The majority of American regular soldiers are isolated beings--so far as home and friends are concerned--and about the only interest the nation at large takes in their welfare is, that they do their duty, and earn their pay. This difference is understood by the soldiers of both armies; and it has its effect on their character. In England, the army is regarded as an important part of the nation. In the United States, it is not; but only as a certain assemblage of men, employed by the people to do a certain work--for which they receive good wages, and plenty of food: for in these respects, the American soldier has an advantage over the English, almost in the ratio of two to one! Volume One, Chapter IX. A FRUITLESS SEARCH. There were speculators in New Orleans, engaged in buying land warrants from the returning volunteers. I sold mine to one of them, for one hundred and ten dollars. Besides this amount, I had about fifty dollars saved from my pay. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I shall now have the pleasure of recording the fact that I made one move in the right direction. I set sail for my childhood's home. Conscience had long troubled me, for having neglected to look after the welfare of my relatives; and I embarked for Dublin with a mind gratified by the reflection that I was once more on the path of duty. So much pleasure did this give me, that I resolved ever after to follow the guiding of reason, as to my future course in life. The right course is seldom more difficult to pursue than the wrong one, while the wear and tear of spirit in pursuing it is much easier. How many strange thoughts rushed into my brain--how many interrogations offered themselves to my mind, as we dropped anchor in Dublin Bay. Should I find my mother living? Should I know my brother William and my sister Martha? What had become of Mr Leary? Should I have to kill him? Such questions, with many others of a similar nature, coursed through my soul while proceeding towards the city. I hurried through the streets, without allowing anything to distract my thoughts from these themes. I reached the house that had been the home of my childhood. At the door, I paused to recover from an unusual amount of excitement; but did not succeed in quelling the tumultuous emotions that thrilled my spirit with an intensity I had never experienced before. I looked cautiously into the shop. It was no longer a saddle and harness-maker's, but a dingy depot for vending potatoes, cabbages, and coals! I thought a great change must suddenly have taken place in the whole city of Dublin. It did not occur to me, that six years was a sufficient period of time for turning a saddler's shop into a greengrocer's--without any reason for being surprised at the transformation.