Daybreak.
Chapter XII.
So As By Fire.
When spring came again, the letters from Mr. Granger were less frequent, and as weather and work grew warmer, the family had to content themselves with a few lines at irregular and sometimes long intervals.
They were not to be anxious, he wrote, even if they should not hear from him for several weeks. As the newspapers and the speech-makers had it, we were making history every day, and he must write his little paragraph with the rest. It took both hands to wield the pen, and he must have a care to make no blots. Which was a roundabout way of saying that his military duties required all his time. They must remember that "no news is good news," and try to possess their souls in patience.
On his next furlough he would
"Shoulder his crutch,
and tell how fields were won,"
or lost; but till then a hasty scrawl must suffice. He thought of them whenever he lay down to rest; and sometimes, when he was in the midst of the hurry and noise of battle, he would catch a flitting vision of the peaceful fireside where friends sat and thought of him. That home was to him like the headland beacon to the mariner far away on the rough horizon, and threw its point of tender light on every dark event that surged about him.
"I shall be there before long. Meantime, good-by, and don't worry."
From Mr. Southard they had heard less frequently, and less at length. His monthly letters to his congregation were usually accompanied by a few lines addressed to Mr. or Mrs. Lewis, telling them in rather formal fashion where he was, and as little as possible of what he was doing. At present, the regiment of which he was chaplain still had their quarters at New Orleans.