For Ned, standing in the open door-way, his perverse moodiness all gone, wore an expression the Professor had never seen before.
“Happened!” said Ned. “Something to live for, something to die for. We know now that we have a country. Haven’t you heard the news?”
“Dear me!” said the Professor, “that’s what I came to tell you; but your quarrel drove it out of my head.”
“How could anything else come into your head?” said Ned.
“Tell me what it is,” asked Tom, impatiently.
“The President has called the people to arms, to aid him in saving the country,” said Ned, fairly glowing as he spoke.
“Yes,” said the Professor, “is it not grand to think that we are aroused at last?”
“Well,” said Ned, “I have still more to tell you. I have enlisted.”
There was a pause of a few moments; then the Professor grasped Ned’s hand, and said simply:――
“I’m going with you, old fellow,” said Tom; and he threw his arm over Ned’s shoulder, and smiled at the Professor.
It is well that I formed the habit of keeping a note-book some time ago. How interesting what I am now writing will be to my wife and children in years to come, when I sit before my own fire, in my own house! The college chronicle of funny adventures and curious stories that my note-book has previously contained is suspended for a time; and I am thinking of matters of life and death now. Well, it is splendid to have a life to lose; and the thought of death, in this cause, has a grand, awful thrill in it, that drives away all the former terror death has possessed for me. These remarks are intended as an opening of my war note-book. Here am I, just twenty-one, and a captain,――a whole captain. It is absurd; no, it isn’t. Col. Burke is raising a regiment. He has as much superfluity about him as an iron nail has, and no more. He was introduced to me about a week ago, and was told about my visits to the people around Crescent Court. People will make me out a philanthropist, which I am not; for I despise most people I know, though the lower classes are quite interesting, but dirty. I never talked religion to any of those creatures in my life. I have given them very little in charity; but I have listened to what they say as I would to my own classmates; and, having talked with them at the North End, I have bowed to them at the West End. In a word, I have carried _les convenances_ into Richmond Street, and have not electioneered. Result, I have some influence, which is useless, except in keeping me clear of pickpockets. So the colonel would have me raise a company. I laughed at the idea, but consented to try; and here are over fifty recruits already. I told them that I had about as much to learn as any of them, and agreed to have the captain elected by vote, myself becoming a private. I should have been very much disgusted if they had taken me at my word; but they didn’t. So I am a captain; but my lieutenants are still to be found.