happiness when the body was all worn out. A thought of the cottage and of
his mother crossed his mind, and he dropped asleep to dream of the joys of
home.

Short and sweet was that blessed time of rest; for at four o'clock, after
only one brief hour of repose, the regiment was turned out again, and
resumed its weary march to the southward. But that short interval of rest
was a fountain of strength to Tom, and without a murmur he took his place
by the side of his grumbling companions. Ben and Fred were disgusted with
the army, and wanted to go back; but that was impossible.

Again, for weary hours, they toiled upon the march. They passed Fairfax,
and encamped near the railroad station, where a full night's rest was
allowed them. By the advice of Hapgood, Tom went to a brook, and washed
his aching feet in cold water. The veteran campaigner gave him other
useful hints, which were of great service to him. That night he had as
good reason to bless the memory of the man who invented sleep as ever
Sancho Panza had, and every hour was fully improved.

At six o'clock, the next morning, the regiment marched again. Tom's legs
were stiff, but he felt so much better than on the preceding day, that he
began to think that he could stand any thing. In the early part of the
afternoon his ears were saluted by a new sound--one which enabled him more
fully than before to realize the nature of the mission upon which he had
been sent. It was the roar of cannon. On that day was fought the battle of
Blackburn's Ford; and when the regiment reached its halting-place at
Centreville, the story of the fight was told by enthusiastic lips.
Massachusetts men had stood firm and resolute before the artillery and
musketry of the rebels, and every man who heard the story was proud that
he hailed from the Old Bay State, and panted for the time when he might