say to goin'? You wanted to go last
year, but mother was sick, an' you couldn't; and now mother's gone to
glory, why, show your grit an' go. Think about it, any how.'

And Hopeful did think about it--thought till late at night of the
insulted flag, of the fierce fights and glorious victories, of the dead
and the dying lying out in the pitiless storm, of the dastardly outrages
of rebel fiends--thought of all this, with his great warm heart
overflowing with love for the dear old 'Banger,' and resolved to go.
The next morning, he notified his 'boss' of his intention to quit his
service for that of Uncle Sam. The old fellow only opened his eyes very
wide, grunted, brought out the stocking, (a striped relic of the
departed Frau Kordwaener,) and from it counted out and paid Hopeful every
cent that was due him. But there was one thing that sat heavily upon
Hopeful's mind. He was in a predicament that all of us are liable to
fall into--he was in love, and with Christina, Herr Kordwaener's
daughter. Christina was a plump maiden, with a round, rosy face, an
extensive latitude of shoulders, and a general plentitude and solidity
of figure. All these she had; but what had captivated Hopeful's eye was
her trim ankle, as it had appeared to him one morning, encased in a warm
white yarn stocking of her own knitting. From this small beginning, his
great heart had taken in the whole of her, and now he was desperately in
love. Two or three times he had essayed to tell her of his proposed
departure; but every time that the words were coming to his lips,
something rushed up into his throat ahead of them, and he couldn't
speak. At last, after walking home from church with her on Sunday
evening, he held out his hand and blurted out:

'Well, good-by. We're off to-morrow.'

'Off! Where?'

'I've enlisted.'

Christina didn't faint. She didn't take out her delicate and daintily
perfumed _mouchoir_, to hide the tears that were not there. She looked
at him for a moment, while two great _real_ tears rolled down her
cheeks, and then--precipitated all her charms right into his arms.
Hopeful stood it manfully--rather liked it, in fact. But this is a
tableau that we've no right to be looking at; so let us pass by how they
parted--with what tears and embraces, and extravagant protestations of
undying affection, and wild promises of eternal remembrance; there is no
need of telling, for we all know how foolish young people will be under
such circumstan