“I was a sentimental boy like you once, and I was just as certain that I should be made a field-marshal, and have the command of the French army in the Crimea——”
“I thought you were in the English army in the Crimea,” interposed the young lieutenant, eager to change the subject.
“Certainly, in the English army; that’s what I said,” continued the gallant captain, entirely unmoved by the interruption. “I was just as sure of having the command of the British army in the Crimea as you are of becoming a brigadier by the time we get into Richmond. But I have no friends at court as you have now.”
“I never thought of such a thing as being a brigadier,” protested Somers. “I never even expected to become a second lieutenant.”
“It isn’t much to be a brigadier. I served with ‘Old Rosey’ in West Virginia for a time. We had a captain there who didn’t know any more about military than a swine does about Lord Chesterfield’s table etiquette. He went into action with a cane in his hand, hawbucking his company about just as a farmer does a yoke of cattle. That fellow is a brigadier-general now; and there’s hope for you and me, if we can only have a friend at court.”
“I am higher now than I ever expected to be, and I wouldn’t give a straw for fifty friends at court.”
“That’s because you are sentimental; but you’ll get over that.”
“Lieutenant Somers,” said Senator Guilford, who had risen from his seat, and approached that occupied by the two officers, “I shall leave the train at the next stopping-place, in order to procure proper medical attendance for my daughter. I desire again to express my thanks to you for the signal service you have rendered to my daughter.”
Our hero blushed again, and stammered out some deprecatory remark.
“When you are in Washington, you must call and see me. You must promise this for Emmie’s sake, if not for mine,” added the Senator.