IT was four months before Captain Somers was able to visit Boston, so severely had his constitution been shattered by the fatigues of the service, and by the strain of exciting events upon his nervous system. Lilian Ashford and her father visited Pinchbrook several times during this period, and an excellent understanding was established between the captain and the young lady. The visit was returned in the spring, when Somers was able to endure the fatigue; and as his health gradually improved, he repeated his calls till they occurred as often as once a week.

Grandmother Ashford had abundant opportunity now to tell all about the “last war,” and Somers listened with the attention which so interesting a narrative deserved. Perhaps it was fortunate for the venerable lady that her eyesight was impaired, or she might have been wounded to observe that her patient auditor looked more at Lilian than at herself. On one of these occasions the old lady was so imprudent as to leave the young couple in the parlor, and something passed between them which seemed to make Somers very much pleased with himself and with Lilian, and to make Lilian equally well pleased with herself and with Somers. What this was, the experienced reader may possibly be able to divine; but as our story relates mainly to the military history of our hero, it cannot properly be introduced.

Captain Somers was certainly improving in health, but so slowly that there was no present prospect of his being able to join his regiment, or report on the staff of his beloved general, now commanding the grand army of the Potomac. His physician positively refused to permit him even to visit the scene of active operations; and after communicating with “Fighting Joe” by letter, he decided to resign his position in the —th Massachusetts, for his continued absence not only deprived the regiment of his services, but prevented some deserving officer, who performed his duties, from receiving the pay and promotion to which he was justly entitled. But he did not take this decisive step till he was assured by the general that he could have an appointment on the staff as soon as he was able to discharge the duties of the position.

While Somers was absent from the army, the great battle of Fredericksburg had been fought; and the brave, noble, and Christian Burnside, perplexed by the treachery of seeming friends, by the over-zealous movements of real ones, and by the machinations of envious and jealous officers, who should have been foremost to support him, was badly defeated. The rank and file behaved nobly, fought well, and the day ought to have been won; but the parts of the grand army were disjointed; they did not act in concert; and portions of the force were left to be mercilessly slaughtered. The devoted and unselfish Burnside shouldered the responsibility, and stepped down from the exalted military pinnacle to which he had been raised without ambition, and against his own desires.

He was succeeded by Major General Hooker, the “bravest of the brave,” and one of the ablest soldiers which the war had developed. He had fought and lost the great battle of Chancellorsville; but he, too, was a victim of jealousy and indecision on the part of men whose purposes were their own, instead of their suffering country’s.

The culminating battle of the war was fought at Gettysburg by his successor. It was a decisive victory; for the defiant foe was penetrating the heart of the North, and there could be no trifling with the terrible fact that stared the nation full in the face. The generals and the army fought nobly, and the exulting rebels were hurled back, shattered and discomfited, to the soil of Virginia.

The battle of Gettysburg was immediately followed by the surrender of Vicksburg and Port Hudson; and operations in the West and South-west attracted the attention of the country during the remainder of the year, while the army of the Potomac was comparatively quiet in Virginia. The battle of Chickamauga Creek was fought, and the Union army defeated, and only saved from disaster by the skill and firmness of General Thomas.

The Confederate authorities, taking advantage of the lull in the storm of battle in the East, sent General Longstreet and his corps to the West, which being understood in Washington, the eleventh and twelfth corps of the army of the Potomac were despatched, under command of General Hooker, to counteract this addition to the force of the rebels.

Captain Somers had impatiently watched the progress of events in the East and in the West, and mourned over the necessity which compelled him to remain inactive. He had attended to his health, and felt that he was completely restored, even before his stubborn physician would acknowledge the fact. But in the month of September, when he had been nearly a year off duty, the doctor gave him a “clean bill of health.” He had employed much of his time, since his strength would permit, in athletic exercises—in rowing, in gymnastics, and in hard labor in the garden. He was heavier and stronger than he had ever been before, and he was ashamed to remain any longer in idleness when the country needed his arm. He wrote to the general again, just as the stalwart hero was on the point of starting for the West.

Three days after, Somers received a reply, informing him that in a short time he would receive a commission as a captain in the regular army, and an appointment on his staff as senior aid-de-camp. To this agreeable intelligence was added the hardly less agreeable fact that Major de Banyan and Captain Barkwood would also be members of his military family.

“Glory, hallelujah!” shouted Somers, as he rushed into the humble cottage at Pinchbrook.

“What on airth is the matter now, Thomas?” asked his mother, dropping the wet dish-cloth on the floor in her astonishment.

“Read that, mother!” shouted the captain.

“I hain’t got my glasses, Thomas. What is it?”

“A captain in the regular army! A soldier for life. What will Lilian say to that?”

“Dear me! Well, that is news,” added Mrs. Somers, who, however, was not very clear in regard to the distinction between a regular and a volunteer officer. “I suppose the gal will think you are a pretty smart boy. I hope it won’t make you proud and vain, Thomas.”

“I’m proud, mother; but I guess it won’t make me vain. I tell you what, it’s no small thing to be a captain in the regular army. I think Lilian won’t like me any less for this.”

“Cat’s foot! She won’t like you any more. If she does, she ain’t the gal I take her to be. Do you suppose she will want you off all the time, when you—”

“Come, mother, you are getting ahead of my time,” said the young captain, with a blush. “Well, I wish the papers would come, for I am in a hurry to be at work again.”

“They’ll come soon enough,” added the mother, sadly, as she thought of another long separation, and the dismal hours that would be spent in waiting for intelligence of him after a battle had been fought.

The next day came a long letter from De Banyan, in which he congratulated himself and his friend on the prospect before them, and proposed to meet him at Louisville on the journey to the new field of operations. The commission and the appointment soon followed, and Somers again donned his staff uniform. The hardest thing before him was to leave home, which had become doubly endeared to him by his long stay. He had seen his twin brother, now in the navy, during a brief visit the latter made to Pinchbrook, when sent to Boston as prize-master of a brig he had captured. This was the only time they had met since the departure of Thomas, at the commencement of the war.

Mrs. Somers was a woman of tender feelings, and she wept bitterly as she again bade her son adieu, and gave him into the keeping of the almighty Father, who had protected and preserved him through so many perils. In Boston, as may well be supposed, he hastened to the house of Mr. Ashford, and saw Lilian, who had already been informed of his intended departure. She now had a deeper interest in him than ever before; and she was sad, but hopeful. Another earnest prayer to God for his safety was to be added daily and nightly to those which went up from the humble home in Pinchbrook.

“Do you see this bundle, Lilian?” said Somers, as he opened the parcel in his hand.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you see?”

“Socks!”

“They are the banner under, or, rather, over, which I fight,” said he, handing her the articles.

“They are hardly worn at all,” replied she, with a sad smile.

“But they have been on my feet in every battle in which I have been engaged. I never wear them except in a fight, for I don’t want to wear them out.”

“I will knit you some more.”

“But they would not be these, if you did,” laughed Somers, trying to be as cheerful as possible. “These socks have helped me to do my duty; and they introduced me to you, which is the best part of it. When the war is over, I am going to put them in a glass case, and keep them in my room, to remind me of the scenes of the past.”

“You are a funny fellow, Thomas,” said she.

“Perhaps I am; but I mean all I say.”

A great deal more was said, which we are afraid would look very silly to some wise and prudent people, if we should transfer it to our page; but the words spoken by both were very earnest and sincere, though perhaps they were rather sentimental, as might have been naturally expected under such circumstances. He spoke the good by, and left the house. He did not see the tears shed by Lilian after he had gone. More than her words, even, they told of her sincerity. Mr. Ashford was not at home when he called, and Somers paid his respects to him at his counting-room. The wealthy merchant was deeply interested in him, and readily accepted the fact which the intimacy between his daughter and the young soldier indicated.

Followed by the prayers and the hopes of devoted friends, he proceeded on his journey to the West. Alick, who had been at work in Pinchbrook during the year, accompanied him as his servant. In due time he reached Louisville, where, in conformity with the arrangement, he met Major de Banyan, and together they repaired to Nashville. They had brought with them their saddles, and other military equipments, but it was necessary to procure horses at this place.

The headquarters of the eleventh and twelfth corps were at Bridgeport, on the Tennessee, about thirty miles from Chattanooga, which was the point at which the military operations centred. Though the country between Nashville and the advanced line of the Union army was in military possession of the loyal forces, it was in a very disturbed condition. There were strong Union men there; but the rebels predominated, and the region was infested with Confederate cavalry and irresponsible guerillas. The military railroad, by which the army received its supplies, was necessarily guarded by troops through every mile of its course.

Having procured their horses, Somers and De Banyan proceeded by the railroad towards their destination. The destruction of a bridge, about twenty miles from Bridgeport, suspended the farther progress of the train, and our officers decided to accomplish the balance of the journey on horseback. Each of them had a servant, and an extra horse to meet the contingencies of the service.

“We shall not be able to find our way, I’m afraid,” said Somers, as they rode along through a wild region.

“You forget that I am at home in this part of the country,” replied the major.

“Are you?”

“I was born and raised not twenty miles from this spot, in the town of Winchester, over in that direction.” he added, pointing to the north-west. “I know every foot of land about here; and I am indebted to that fact for my appointment on the general’s staff.”

“Then we shall not be likely to get lost.”

“No; but the guerillas are as thick around here as raisins in a plum pudding. I suppose I should have an excellent opportunity to be hung if any of them should catch me.”

“What did you come down here for, then?”

“It makes no difference to me. I rather enjoy the excitement of the danger; besides, I should like to help restore my state to her allegiance.”

“It is almost night, major. I don’t think it is prudent for us to beat about this region in the dark.”

“It is safer to beat about than it is to lie down and go to sleep; but there is a house a couple of miles from here, where a Union man used to live. We will stop there if you like.”

“I think we had better do so,” replied Somers.

“Perhaps we had, especially as it looks very much like a storm.”

They reached the house, which was the residence of the owner of a large plantation. It had been an elegant establishment before the war, but it looked like waste and ruin around it. The travellers stopped before the mansion. De Banyan dismounted, and throwing the bridle-rein to his servant, walked up to the front door.