And I got acquainted with a good many of the Seventh
Cavalry, and the dragoons, and officers, and families, and horses, in the
first few days, and some more in the next few and the next few and the
next few, and now I know more soldiers and horses than you can think, no
matter how hard you try. I am keeping up my studies every now and then,
but there isn’t much time for it. I love you so! and I send you a hug
and a kiss.
CATHY.
P.S.—I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons, I am an officer,
too, and do not have to work on account of not getting any wages.
V
GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES
SHE has been with us a good nice long time, now. You are troubled about
your sprite because this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of miles from
civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of savages? You fear
for her safety? Give yourself no uneasiness about her. Dear me, she’s
in a nursery! and she’s got more than eighteen hundred nurses. It would
distress the garrison to suspect that you think they can’t take care of
her. They think they can. They would tell you so themselves. You see,
the Seventh Cavalry has never had a child of its very own before, and
neither has the Ninth Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers,
they think there is no other child like theirs, no other child so
wonderful, none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly looked
after and protected. These bronzed veterans of mine are very good
mothers, I think, and wiser than some other mothers; for they let her
take lots of risks, and it is a good education for her; and the more
risks she takes and comes successfully out of, the prouder they are of
her. They adopted her, with grave and formal military ceremonies of
their own invention—solemnities is the truer word; solemnities that were
so profoundly solemn and earnest, that the spectacle would have been
comical if it hadn’t been so touching. It was a good show, and as
stately and complex as guard-mount and the trooping of the colors; and it
had its own special music, composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of
the Seventh; and the child was as serious as the most serious war-worn
soldier of them all; and finally when they throned her upon the shoulder
of the oldest veteran, and pronounced her “well and truly adopted,” and
the bands struck up and all saluted and she saluted in return, it was
better and more moving than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage,
because stage things are make-believe, but this was real and the players’
hearts were in it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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