Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 by Glimpses of Louisa (v2.1) Page B

           
"I know without asking. Give us your purse, and I'll make him as happy as
a king," said the boy, laughing, as he looked up admiringly at our tall
friend, who looked down on him with an elder-brotherly air pleasant to see.
While Tom was gone, I found out Joe's name and business, promised to write and
tell his mother how finely the regiment went off, and was just expressing a
hope that we might meet again, for I too was going to the war as nurse, when
the order to "Fall in!" came rolling down the ranks, and the talk was
over. Fearing Tom would miss our man in the confusion, I kept my eye on him
till the boy came rushing up with a packet of tobacco in one hand and a good
supply of cigars in the other. Not a romantic offering, certainly, but a very
acceptable one, as Joe's face proved, as we scrambled these treasures into his
pockets, all laughing at the flurry, while less fortunate comrades helped us,
with an eye to a share of these fragrant luxuries by and by. There was just
time for this, a hearty shake of the big hand, and a grateful "Good-by,
ma'am;" then the word was given, and they were off. Bent on seeing the
last of them, Tom and I took a short cut, and came out on the wide street down
which so many troops marched that year; and, mounting some high steps, we
watched for our man, as we already called him.
                            
As the inspiring music, the grand tramp, drew near,
the old thrill went through the crowd, the old cheer broke out. But it was a
different scene now than in the first enthusiastic, hopeful days. Young men and
ardent boys filled the ranks then, brave by instinct, burning with loyal zeal,
and blissfully unconscious of all that lay before them. Now the blue coats were
worn by mature men, some gray, all grave and resolute: husbands and fathers,
with the memory of wives and children tugging at their heart-strings; homes
left desolate behind them, and before them the grim certainty of danger,
hardship, and perhaps the lifelong helplessness worse than death. Little of the
glamour of romance about the war now: they saw it as it was, a long, hard task;
and here were the men to do it well. Even the lookers-on were different now.
Once all was wild enthusiasm and glad uproar; now men's lips were set, and women's
smileless as they cheered; fewer handkerchiefs whitened the air, for wet eyes
needed them; and sudden lulls, almost solemn in their stillness, followed the
acclamations of the crowd. All watched with quickened breath and brave souls
that living wave, blue below, and bright with a steely glitter above, as it
flowed down the street and away to distant battle-fields already stained with
precious blood.
                            
"There he is! The outside man, and tallest of the lot. Give him a cheer, auntie: he sees us, and remembers!" cried Tom, nearly
tumbling off his perch, as he waved his hat, and pointed out Joe Collins.
                            
Yes, there he was, looking up, with a smile on his brave brown face, my little
nosegay in his button-hole, a suspicious bulge in the pocket close by, and
doubtless a comfortable quid in his mouth, to cheer the weary march. How like
an old friend he looked, though we had only met fifteen minutes ago; how glad
we were to be there to smile back at him, and send him on his way feeling that,
even in a strange city, there was some one to say, "God bless you,
Joe!" We watched the tallest blue cap till it vanished, and then went home
in a glow of patriotism,—Tom to long for his turn to come, I to sew vigorously
on the gray gown the new nurse burned to wear as soon as possible, and both of
us to think and speak often of poor Joe Collins and his Lucindy. All this
happened long ago; but it is well to recall those stirring times,—to keep fresh
the memory of sacrifices made for us by men like these; to see to it that the
debt we owe them is honestly, gladly paid; and, while we