"Yes, yes. He never was a steady boy, as you know. He has set out to learn three different trades, and got sick of them all. I couldn't keep him at school, neither. Of late nothing would do but he must be a soldier. If I thought he'd stick to it, and do his duty, I wouldn't say a word. But he'll get tired of carrying a gun, too, before he has seen hard service. Where is he? Do you know, Frank?" "He is in camp, in the Jackson Blues," mid Frank. "I am going as drummer in the same company." "I'm glad of that," replied Mr. Winch. "For, though he is so much older than you, I think you always have had an influence over him, Frank--a good influence, too." And the neighbor took the young volunteer's hand. Frank's eyes glistened--he felt so touched by this compliment, and so proud that his father had heard it, and could go home and tell it to his mother and sisters. Neighbor Winch went on: "I want you to see John, as soon as you can, Frank, and talk with him, and try to make him feel how wrongly he has acted----" Here the poor man's voice failed him; and Frank, sympathizing with his sorrow, was filled with gratitude to think that he had never been tempted to grieve his parents in the same way. Mr. Manly accompanied his son to the railroad depot, and saw him safely in the cars that were to convey him to camp, and then took leave of him. The young volunteer would have forgotten his manhood, and cried, if the eyes of strangers had not been upon him; even as it was, his voice broke when he said his last good-by, and sent back his love to his mother and sisters and little Willie. III. UNDER CANVAS. The cars were soon off; and the heart of Frank swelled within him as he felt himself now fairly embarked in his new adventure. Soon enough the white tents of the camp rose in sight. The Stars and Stripes floating under the blue sky, the soldiers in their blue uniforms, the sentinels with their glittering bayoneted guns pacing up and down, and above all, the sound of a drum, which he considered now to be a part of his life, made him feel himself already a hero. Several other recruits had come down in the train with him, accompanied by an officer. Frank was a stranger to them all. But he was not long without acquaintances, for he had scarcely alighted at the depot when he saw coming towards him his neighbor and chum, Jack Winch, in soldier clothes--a good-looking young fellow, a head taller and some two years older than himself. "Hello, Jack! how are you?" "Tip-top!" said Jack, looking happy as a prince.