Soldiers' record, 1868-11-21

              I J e v o t e d t o t l i e I n t e r e s t s o f t l i e Sol<Jiei-s a^ncl S a i l o r s o f " t h e l a t e W a r .
YOL 1. HARTFORD, CONlV., NOYEMBER 21, 1868. NO. 20
^HE LONG AGO.
. 1 . tA-vYOB,
Oh! a wonderful strciun is the river Time,
As it runs tiirough the realms of tears,
With a faultless ryth and a musical rhyme
And a broader sweep and a surge sublime,
And blends with the ocean of years-
How the winters are drifting libe flakes of snow
And the summers like buds between;
And the yeas in the sheaf so they cpme, so they go
As it glides in our shadow and sheen.
There's a magical isle, up the river Time,
Where the softest of airs are playing ,
There's a cloudless sky, and a tropical dime,
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime,
And the Junes with the roses are straying.
And the name of this isle is the Long ago—
And we bury our treasures there;
There are brows of beauty, and bosoms of snow.
There are heaps of dust—but we loved them so,
There are trinkets and tresses of hair.
There are fragments of songs that nobody sings.
And a part of an infant's prayer;
There's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings,
There are broken vows, and pieces of rings.
And the garments that she used to wear.
There are hands that are waved, -when the fairy shore.
By the mirage is lifted in air.
And we sometimes hear through the turbulent roar
Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before,
Where the wind down the river is fair.
Oh ! remembered for aye, be the blessed isle
All the days of life until night.
When the evening comes wtiu its beautiful smile,
And our eyes are closing in slumber awhile.
May that "greenwood" of soul be in sight.
lOiiv^ at lome.
Colburn's New Monthly.
I N DIFFICTJIiTIES.
A TALE OP EEAL LIFE.
ABOUT two years since, a very intimate
friend of mine, some years my senior, re-lated
the following story to me. I think
I cannot do better than give it in his own
words, for while it.amused, it at the same
time made such an impression on me, that
I paid off divers small debtsi had hitherto
neglected, and have since never allowed
myself any luxury I could not pay for.
I trust this tale may prove as amusing,
and perhaps as profitable to some of my
readers as it was to me.
When I was about twenty-two years of
age I was in the army ; although I was
not rich I was very well off, as my friends
gave me an allowance of two hundred
pounds a year ; but as I was very thought-less
and very extravagant, I spent consid-erably
more than this, allowing my half-yearly
bills to remain unpaid. In a short
time, however, some of my tradesmen ap-plied
to me for payments, threatening to
apply to my relations if I did not comply
with their demands. In order to avoid
the remonstrances of my family, and be-cause
it was far easier, trusting also, per-haps,
in a lucky hit on the Derby, I
borrowed money at high interest on my
commission—in short, in about eighteen-months
1 found I owed about a thousand
pounds. The money-lenders were clam-orous
for payment, threatening to arrest
me, so I was at last compelled to apply to
my friends ; they, however, firmly refused
to help me in any way, telling me that as
I had involved myself so deeply, notwith-standing
tlie liberal allowiince I received,
it was cleur the army was too expensive for
me, and that 1 had better give it up. I
was obliged to sell my commission, which
realized about eight iumdred pounds, but
as it was assigned or morgaged for that
amount to bome of those who had advanced
me money, tliey were paid, ana iny unfor-tunate
tradesmen received nothing. My
friends declined paying them—their claim
being about two hundred pounds—redu-ced
my allowance to fifty pounds a year,
and allowed mo to reside with them until
I could obtain some appointment which
would enable mo to pay my debts. They
also told me that until 1 had done this
and 80 reduenuid niy character, they would
do nothing for me, as they could place no
conlidence in my jjromises.
You see I was already beginning to
reap some of the fruits of my extravagance.
I had left the army, which was the only
profession I then thought I could ever
like and my means were diminished ;but
I was not yet sufficiently punished to in-duce
me to set to work in earnest.
So I remained in London, living. in a
luxurious home, frequenting many of my
former haunts, associating with my friends,
going to my club—in fact, doing nothing,
and trying to persuade my friends and
myself that I was endeavoring to obtain
some sort of an appointment. This went
on for about six months, until my credi-tors,
losing patience, informed me they
would actually arrest me if I did not pay
them. This gave me considerable anx-iety,
although I did not think they would
proceed to such extremities. However,
I took the precaution to give orders to .my
aunt's servants to say if any one called
for me, that I was out of town. I medi -
tated going away, but knew not where
to go. I had no fi-iends out of London,
and of course it was absurd to try and
live on my allowance. I spent that in
cigars and gloves alone.
One evening, at about seven o'clock,
just as I had come down dressed for din-ner,
and was crossing the hall to go into
the drawing-room, I saw the butler open
the street-door, and, not having yet had
time to close the drawing-room door,
overheard the following dialogue:
" Is Mr. at home ? "
" No He has just gone abroad."
" Can you forward this letter to him ?"
" No He did hot leave his address ;
he never does."
"Oome, that's nonsense," said the man,
passing the footman and walking into tlie
hall. " I know he is in London, and that
he lives here ; and it you won't undertake
to deliver this letter to him, I'll sit here
and wait until he comes in,"
All remonstrance on the part of the
footman was quite useless; the man was
told ho was not in my house, that he had
no right to remain there, all in vain ; so
one of the servants was eventually obliged
to call a policeman, who, when he found
the house was the private residence of
lady, who refused to give my address, or-dered
my obnoxious friend out. He went
at once, not forgetting to express the
opinion he had formed of my humble self,
and which was anything but flattering.
Although it is now some years since this
occurrence took place, the feelings I ex-perienced
on the occasion rccur to me as
vividly as though it had only happened
yesterday. I was perfectly stunned, de-prived
almost of the power of collecting
my ideas, and I scarcely think it is possi-ble
for any one, no matter what they may
have done, to feel more ashamed than I
did on that eventful day. No one spoke
to me, but my relations were tiilking to
each other; and I heard, as in a dream
such words or parts of sentences as the
following: "Disgrace," " Subject to insult
in one's own house," '' Scandal in the
neighborhood," Servants," etc. I me-chanically
went into dinner, where I fan
cied I saw the butler, who was usually a
very grave man, actually smiling at me.
However, this must have been mere im-agination
on my part—he never could
bave presumed so to forgot himself-
Although nothing was saic] on the sub-e
j t , t kii3vv I must leave my Hunt's house
at once, so I resolved to proceed to Paris
the next day, and there to seek some sort
of employment which should enable mo
to pay my debts, or, at any rate, maintain
myself, until my relations should relent,
and perhaps come to my aid ; so 1 packed
mv portmanteau and prepared for my de-parture.
I, however, forsaw great difli-culties
in my way, which my imagination
increased; I began to think every one
conspired to impede my escape; I was not
certain whether some of my creditors, or
their agents, might not be standing at the
very dSor, or aUttle way olf, to Stercept '''
me as soon as I appeared: In order, there ^^
fore, to attract as little notice as possible,
I sent a man-servant with my luggage to
th6 3'ailway station, and directed him to
ta'l^e my ticket, register my luggage, and,
in fact, make all arrangements, so that I
might arrive just in time, and jump, as it
v^rere, from the cab into the train. About
five minutes before the appointed time I
drove up to the station, carefully muffled
up, in overcoats and divers wraps, with rh'y
travelling cap closely pulled down over
my face, which gave people the idea I was
suffering from a violent cold, and casting
a hurried glance around as I arrived, I
hastily jumped out of the ,cab, and was
rapidly entering the station, alrea'dy con-gratulating
myself on the good luck I had
met with, when 1 suddenly heard some
one running after me, and calling out
something, which I was toO agitated to
near ; despair gave me courage, and I
walked on even faster, hoping, I scarcely
Icnow what, but determined at any rate
not to appear to notice that any one call-ed
me, or show that I had anything to
fear, when I suddenly heard the voice
of my pursuer, who by this time
had caught me up, saying, " Please, sir,
you have forgotten to pay your cab." 1
stopped, turned round, and saw a railway
porter, closely followed by the cabman.
I was so pleased with this discovery,
that I immediately proceeded to pay the
cabman double his fare, and gave the
porter a shilling, doubtless for having
caused me so much anxiety. I felt a man
again, a free-born British subject, and
moved forward with a feeling of great
independence, assuming a graver and
more becoming step-r-even venturing to
look those I passed straight in the face.
I reached the platform, received my tick-et
from my servant, and, having summon-ed
the guaid, I was just about to enter a
first-class carriage, when a hand Was laid
upon my arm, and a man, who was evi-dently
out of breath, and must have fol-lowed
me, said, " Excuse me, sir," ( Oh!
I thought, no doubt this time, and the
idea made me feel so faint, I was obliged
to lay my hand for support on the door
of the carriage), " but I presume you are
going to Paris, and if you would be so
kind as to post this letter for me when
you arrive, you will do me a great service.
It is of importance to me it should be de-livered
in Paris in the course of the day,
and I was just too late for the post," My
heart beat once more. I could breathe
again. I was delighted; of course I
would take the letter, I said; why
nothing, would give me greater pleasure
than to oblige him. It was no trouble at
all; should be sure to post it mysell, etc.
I believe if he had asked me, I should
willingly have taken several boxes.
So I at last got into the carriage, an
elderly gentleman, who was also rather
late, getting in at the same time, and sit-ting
down opposite to me. Th6' signal
was given, the train started, and In a few
minutes we were some distance from the
great city. " Well, " I said to myself, "
I am lucky ; at any rate I have got my
freedom ; it won't be very pleasant work-ing
in Paris, but I shall bo free, and have
no stain on my character there—no expo-sure
before the world. " I drank some
brandy from a travelling flask, as the emo
tions I had experienced made mo feel very
shaky, lighted a cigar, and feeling at peace
with all my fellow-passengers, commenced
inspecting their various countenances—
in fact, I considered my escape to be ac-complished,
for, of course, even supposing
they got an idea of the route I was taking,
they would never send to Dover after me,
so I smoked on, and thoroughly enjoyed
my cigar, which, by the way, was a very
good one.
1 was not destined, however, to remain
long undisturbed, for on looking at my
fellow-passengers, 1 was suddenly startled
by noticing that my opposile neighbor
was looking at me very intently, and ap-mo
carefully. I
turned my eyes away, and determined nei-ther
to think of or even notice the genttlij-^v
man's scrutiny, which I thought, at any
rate, very in'polite, and again applied my
self with renewed vigor to my cigar;
but somehow it seemed to have lost all
flavor, and I could not help glancing at
my opposite neighbor. Tins time I
thought I detected, a sort of self-satisfied
expression on his countenance, as though
he had just discovered something in me o
ii pleasant nature. Prei^ently, catching
my eye, he addressed me.
" A cold evening."
" Yes, very " . ;
"You are so well .covered, I suppose
you don't feel it much ?"
"•^ft^'ell, it is perhaps better to be care-
M." .. . -ui
It is ; but I am surprised you should
have arrived at thi^ conclusion. Young
men are generally so reckless, particularly
in your profession."
They are sometimes."" (" What can
he mean ? " I thought. He surely
does not know me.") .
"You are ir- the army, I believe ? "
" No, I am not."
" True, 1 forgot. You have been."
"Yes, I have."
But imagine my consternation when,
bending towar ds me in a confidential way,
and speaking in a low voice, my compan-ion
said:. ,,
" I believe I am addressing Mr.rr—?
I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks,'
and for one moment debated whether I
should own my name or assume another;
but reflecting, if he following me, it
would be quite uselesS-Hrying to deceive
him, I mustered all , my courage, and,
steadying, my. voic,e as well as 1 could,,^
answered:
" Ye—s, you are."
"Ah, I thought I could not be mistaken.
I seldom am ; and, " he added with a
knowing smile, " to tell you the . truth, I
have seen one of those photographs you
had taken at Meyer's, and they are really
capital."
What wonderful, means they em ploy,I
thought. How could he find out 1 went
there to be photographed ? But he con-tinued
:
"Yes, I have been watching you some
time, young, man."
"Indeed," I said. (" You old brute,"
I thought, giving up all hope, and feeling
a cold perspiration all over my neck and
forehead.)
" VYhere ore you going to? " he said.
" Well, I was gomg to P a r i s , " I replied,
wishing to make him understand I quite
saw his meaning,
" Oh, I can't allow;, you to do that now
we have met, I must insist on carrying
you off for a short time. I'll see you are
comfortably put up. You shall stay with
me. I don't suppose your buisnesa is so
very important as to prevent your accept-ing
my invitation ? "
Well, I thought, at any rate he is very
polite, and even kind, for he evidently
spares me, and does not expose nie before
the other passengers. As he is chaffing,
I'll try and answer him in the same spirit,;
so I replied I should be very glad to accept
I'.is kind invitation.
" That's right, I don't like people who
make a fuss. They always come in the
end."
" No doubt, " I said to myself. " They
have not much choice."
" Now, I dare say you'd like to know
who I am, and what sort of a place you are
going to,stay at ? "
" Oh, not at all, thank you. I am not
curious. I'll make tho best of it when I
got there."
" Eh ?—what't" said my friend, evil
dently rather astonished. " Make the
best of it ? Why, as for that, it is a place
many a duke has been glad enough to live
in before now-"
" Really you surprise mo," 1 said, at
the same time sincerely pityiug such un-fortunate
dukes.