fancy's eye, might be read an interesting tale in every face. We might
trace, in all, some scarcely perceptible relaxation of muscle, that
would say, "With the deportment of the _hero_, we have the feelings of
the _man_. One young officer was there, belonging to a different
regiment, who, certainly, seemed to have none of those amiable
weaknesses, none of those home feelings, which characterize the
husband or the father. He had not even pains of the lover to contend
with. Glory was indeed _his_ mistress, the all absorbing ruling
passion of his mind; he dreamt not, talked not of, thought not of
aught, but glory!"

Panting to distinguish himself with his corps, he would gladly have
annihilated time and space to have reached it, without spending so
many tedious months in making the voyage. Led away by his military
ardor, he thought not of his anxious parents; little recked he of his
mother's sleepless nights, and how her maternal fears would fancy
every breeze a gale, and every gale a storm, while he was subject to
their influence.

Among those waiting to embark, was one who had just parted from his
wife and children; care and anxiety had set their marks on him. He was
a man of domestic habits, and was now, perhaps, to be severed for
years, from all that gave any charm to life; but the fiat for
separation had gone forth, and was inevitable! Soon would immense
oceans roll between them; their resources, which, while they were
together, were barely sufficient for their wants, were now to be
divided; and the pang of parting, severe enough in itself, was
sharpened by the fear that poverty and privation might overtake them,
ere he could send remittances to his family.