and Frank was! 'In the desert,
in the battle, in the ocean-tempest's wrath, we stood together, side by
side; one hope was ours, one path!'"

"This, then, is Seth Tucket!" exclaimed Mrs. Manly, who knew him by his
poetry.

"That's my name, ma'am, at your service!" And Seth made another
tremendous bow. "But I see," he said, "you're anxious; ye want to git to
the hospital. I tell ye, Frank'll be glad to see ye; he used to rave
about you in his delirium; he would call '_mother! mother!_' sometimes
half the night."

"Poor child! poor, dear child!" said Mrs. Manly. "I can't wait! help me,
sir,--show me the way to him, if nothing more!"

"Hello!" shouted Seth. "Whose cart is this? Where's the driver of this
cart? It's been standin' here this hour, and nobody owns it." He jumped
into it. "Who claims this vehicle? 'Who so base as would not help a
woman? If any, speak! for him have I offended!' Nobody? Then I take the
responsibility--and the cart too! Hop in, ladies. Here's a board for you
to set on. I'll drive ye to the hospital, and bring back the kerridge
before Uncle Sam misses it."

The women were only too glad to accept the invitation, and they were soon
seated on the board. Seth adjusted his anatomy to the edge of the
cart-box, and drove off. But he soon stood up, declaring that a hungry
fellow like him couldn't stand that board,--he was too sharp set.

Mrs. Manly did not venture to ask again about Atwater,--what he had
already said of him having gone so heavily to the poor wife's heart. But
she could inquire about the old drum-major, who, she had heard, was
wounded.

"Old Sinjin? Wal! I'm in jest the same dilemmy consarning him as Atwater.
They've both been sick and at the pint of death ever sence the fight. Now
one of 'em's dead, and t'other's alive. A chap that was at the hospital
told me this morning, 'One of them sickest fellers in your regiment died
last night," says he; 'I don't know which of 'em,' says he. And I haven't
had a chance yet to find out."

"O, haste then!" cried the young wife. "May be my husband is living
still!"

"Shouldn't wonder the least might if he is," said Seth, willing to
encourage her. "For he has hung on to life wonderfully; he said he
believed you was coming, and he couldn't bear the idee of dying before he
could see you once more. Old Buckley's bullet has been found, you'll be
pleased to know."

"Old Buckley? Who is old Buckley?"

"The Maryland secessionist that shot your hus