which the petty trials and discomforts of the camp
could not impair.

While the regiment was at Camp Cameron, the state colors and a standard,
procured by the liberality of its friends, were presented; and the
patriotic speeches delivered on this occasion made a deep impression upon
the mind and heart of the soldier boy. To him they were real--perhaps more
real than to those who uttered the burning words. He was in a situation to
feel the full force of the great sacrifice which the soldier makes for his
country. He devoted himself, heart and soul, to the cause; and what was
but an idle sentiment in the mind of the flowery speech-makers, was truth
and soberness to him who was to meet the foe at the cannon's mouth and at
the bayonet's point.

"We are off on the 29th," said old Hapgood, one evening, as he entered the
barrack where Tom was writing a letter to his mother.

"Good! I am glad to hear it. I was just telling my mother that I hoped we
should not have to stay much longer in this place," replied Tom.

"I think we are having an easy time of it here," added the veteran. "When
you find out what hunger and fatigue mean, you will learn to be contented
with such a place as this."

"I'm contented enough; but I want to get into the field, and have
something done."

"Time enough, my boy. I used to feel just so, Tom, when I went to Mexico;
but after a while I got so I didn't care what we did or where we went."

Tom added a postscript to his letter, informing his mother of the time
fixed for the departure of the regiment. The intelligence in this instance
proved to be correct, for on the appointed day the little colonel marched
his command into the city, where it was duly embarked on the cars for New
York. It was a day of excitement, for the streets of the city were
thronged with people, whose cheers and applause were the benison with
which the regiment went forth to do and to die for the nation. Tom was
delighted with this warm reception, but more by meeting his mother and his
brother and sisters at the station. It was a joyous and yet a sad
meeting. Mrs. Somers wept; and what mother would not weep to see her son
go forth to encounter the perils of the battle-field, and the greater
perils of the camp?

It was a sad parting; and many a mother's heart was torn with anguish on
that day, when she pressed her noble boy to her bosom, for the last time,
as she gave him to his country. Cold, stern men, who had never wept
be