who held the lots in his cap, ten of them marked, “to go,” and all the others containing the fatal words “to remain” It was a moment of dreadful suspense, and never have I seen the extreme of anxiety so powerfully depicted in the countenances of human beings, as in the countenances of each of the soldiers’ wives who composed that group. One advanced and drew her ticket; it was against her, and she retreated sobbing. Another, she succeeded; and giving a loud huzza, ran off to the distant ranks to embrace her husband. A third came forward with hesitating steps: tears were already chasing each other down her cheek, and there was an unnatural paleness on her interesting and youthful countenance. She put her small hand into the serjeant’s cap, and I saw by the rise and fall of her bosom even more than her looks revealed. She unrolled the paper, looked upon it, and with a deep groan, fell back and fainted. So intense was the anxiety of every person present, that she remained unnoticed, until the tickets had been drawn, and the greater number of the women had left the spot. I then looked round and beheld her supported by her husband, who was kneeling upon the ground, gazing upon her face, and drying her fast falling tears with his coarse handkerchief, and now and then pressing it to his own manly cheek.
Captain Loden advanced towards them.— “I am sorry, Henry Jenkins,” said he, “that fate has been against you; but bear up and bo stout-hearted.”
“I am so, Captain,” said the soldier, as he looked up, and passed his rough hand across his face; “but ’tis a hard thing to part from a wife, and she so soon to be a mother.”
“Oh! Captain,” sobbed the young woman, “as you aro both a husband and a father, do not take him from me. I have no friend in the wide world, but one, and will you let him bide with me? Oh! take