cannot help respecting him for it in
their hearts.

"You needn't blush so, young chap," said tall Abram Atwater, a stalwart,
square-shouldered, square-featured young man of twenty, who alone had not
joined in the derisive merriment. "It won't hurt any of these fellows to
preach to them, and they know it."

Frank cast a grateful look at the tall soldier, who, though almost a
stranger to him, had thus generously taken his part against some who
professed to be his friends. He tried to speak, but could not articulate
a word, he was still feeling so hurt by Jack's ingratitude. Perhaps his
pride was as much wounded as his friendship; for, as we have hinted, he
had been a good deal puffed up with the idea of his influence over Jack.
This incident, as we shall see, had a bad effect upon Frank himself; for,
instead of persevering in the good work he had undertaken, he was
inclined to give up all hope of exerting an influence upon any body.

In the mean time Jack was washing down the sermon, as he said, with more
brandy.

"'Twas such an awful dry discourse, boys;" and he passed the bottle
around to the others, who all drank, except Abram Atwater. That stalwart
young soldier stood in the midst of the tent, straight and tall, with his
arms calmly folded under his blue cape (a favorite attitude of his), and
merely shook his head, with a mild and tolerant smile, when the liquor
was passed to him.

Such was the beginning of Frank's camp life. It was not long before he
had recovered from his confusion, and was apparently on good terms with
his messmates. He spent the afternoon in walking about the camp; watching
some raw recruits at their drill; watching others playing cards, or
checkers, or backgammon; getting acquainted, and learning the ways of the
camp generally.

So the day passed; and that night Frank lay for the first time
soldier-fashion, under canvas. He went to bed with his clothes on, and
drew his blanket over him. It was not like going to bed in his nice
little room at home, with Willie snuggled warmly beside him; yet there
was a novelty in this rude and simple mode of life that was charming. His
companions, who lay upon the ground around him, kept him awake with their
stories long after the lights were out; but at length, weary with the
day's excitement, he fell asleep.

There,--a dweller now in the picturesque white city of tents gleaming in
the moonlight, ruggedly pillowed on his soldier's couch, those soft brow