The cloud vanished, as he sprang up and exclaimed: “Did he? Bless his old heart! I must run down and get it.”
“Why, how delighted you seem; one would think it was a fortune.”
“O no,—but you see—er well, it is—all right now.”
The cloud was explained! How mortal we are! The poor fellow was “dead broke” and of course had no fee for the clergyman. This seemed a small matter, but for several months that ever-welcome individual, the Pay-master, had not reported to the consequently bankrupt “front,” so there was nothing to borrow, for as long as a dollar remained in camp, it was the common property of the “Boys.”
On the road shortly after, we met Bob beaming as a sunflower, radiant in a brand new pair of yellow buckskin gauntlets, high cavalry boots, freshly blacked, hair and beard barbered, dust swept off his faded uniform, and with a clean paper collar. The owner of this elegant wedding attire called out merrily—“How are you progressing, Colonel?”
“Finely,” was the brief though hardly conscientious reply, which was scarcely verified on reaching the Christian Commission again, when Mr. Houghton said: “I can find no one willing to perform that ceremony!”
Descending from the ambulance and passing into the quarters occupied by Rev. Mr. and Mrs. A., I asked the former to assist in giving away the bride, which he at once consented to do. But the most important character was still wanting.
“Ah, Rev. G., will you not as a home friend kindly perform this service?”
“With pleasure by the Methodist form, but I have conscientious scruples about using another service!”
“Well, please send some one else.”