long as a drop of blood was left in his veins--highly poetical, but it
required strong terms to express our hero's enthusiasm--whereat the men
and boys applauded most vehemently, and the ladies flourished their
cambrics with the most commendable zeal. Tom bowed--bowed again--and kept
bowing, just as he had seen General McClellan bow when he was cheered by
the troops. As the people would not stop applauding, Tom, his face all
aglow with joy and confusion, descended from the platform, and took his
seat by the side of his mother.

The magnates of Pinchbrook then made speeches--except Squire
Pemberton--about the war, patriotism, gunpowder, and eleven-inch shot and
shells. Every body thought it was "a big thing," and went home to talk
about it for the next week. Tom's father, and mother, and sister, and
gran'ther Greene, said ever so many pretty things, and every body was as
happy as happy could be, except that John was not at home to share in the
festivities. Letters occasionally came from the sailor boy, and they went
to him from the soldier boy.

Mrs. Somers was not a little surprised, the next day, to hear her son
announce his intention to take the first train for the city; but Tom could
not postpone his visit to No ---- Rutland Street any longer, for he was
afraid his uniform would lose its gloss, and the shoulder-straps their
dazzling brilliancy.

Tom's courage had nearly forsaken him when he desperately rang the bell at
the home of Lilian Ashford; and he almost hoped the servant would inform
him that she was not at home. Lilian was at home, and quaking like a
condemned criminal before the gallows, he was ushered into the presence of
the author of his socks.

Stammering out his name he drew from his pocket the battered photograph
and the shattered letter, and proceeded at once to business. Lilian
Ashford blushed, and Tom blushed--that is to say, they both blushed. When
he had presented his relics, he ventured to look in her face. The living
Lilian was even more beautiful than the Lilian of the photograph.

"Dear me! So you are the soldier that wore the socks I knit," said Lilian;
and our hero thought it was the sweetest voice he ever heard.

"I am, Miss Ashford, and I did not run away in them either."

"I'm glad you did not," added she, with a musical laugh, which made Tom
think of the melody of the spheres, or some such nonsense.

"I have to thank you for my promotion," said Tom, boldly.

"Thank me!" exclai