eben holden- 第39部分

'I　wish　to　see　Mr　Greeley；'he　said。

'There　he　is；'I　answered；　'go　and　speak　to　him。　

'Mr　Greeley；'said　he；　'I　have　called　to　see　if　you　can'take　me　on　the　Tribune。　

The　Printer　continued　reading　as　if　he　were　the　only　man　in　the　room。

The　young　man　looked　at　him　and　then　at　me　…　with　an　expression　that　moved　me　to　a　fellow　feeling。　He　was　a　country　boy；　more　green　and　timid　even　than　I　had　been。

'He　did　not　hear　you　…　try　again；'I　said。

'Mr　Greeley；'said　he；　louder　than　before；　'I　have　called　to　see　if　you　can'take　me　on　the　Tribune。　

The　editor's　eyes　glanced　off　at　the　boy　and　returned　to　their　reading。

'No；　boy；　I　can't；'he　drawled；　shifting　his　eyes　to　another　article。　And　the　boy；　who　was　called　to　the　service　of　the　paper　in　time；　but　not　until　after　his　pen　had　made　him　famous；　went　away　with　a　look　of　bitter　disappointment。

In　his　attire　Mr　Greeley　wore　always　the　best　material；　that　soon　took　on　a　friendless　and　dejected　look。　The　famous　white　overcoat　had　been　bought　for　five　dollars　of　a　man　who　had　come　by　chance　to　the　office　of　the　New　Yorker；　years　before；　and　who　considered　its　purchase　a　great　favour。　That　was　a　time　when　the　price　of　a　coat　was　a　thing　of　no　little　importance　to　the　Printer。　Tonight　there　was　about　him　a　great　glow；　such　as　comes　of　fine　tailoring　and　new　linen。

He　was　so　preoccupied　with　his　paper　that　I　went　out　into　the　big　room　and　sat　down；　awaiting　a　better　time。

'The　Printer's　going　to　Washington　to　talk　with　the　president；'said　an　editor。

Just　then　Mr　Greeley　went　running　hurriedly　up　the　spiral　stair　on　his　way　to　the　typeroom。　Three　or　four　compositors　had　gone　up　ahead　of　him。　He　had　risen　out　of　sight　when　we　heard　a　tremendous　uproar　above　stairs。　I　ran　up；　two　steps　at　a　time；　while　the　high　voice　of　Mr　Greeley　came　pouring　down　upon　me　like　a　flood。　It　had　a　wild；　fleering　tone。　He　stood　near　the　landing；　swinging　his　arms　and　swearing　like　a　boy　just　learning　how。　In　the　middle　of　the　once　immaculate　shirt　bosom　was　a　big；　yellow　splash。　Something　had　fallen　on　him　and　spattered　as　it　struck　We　stood　well　out　of　range；　looking　at　it；　undeniably　the　stain　of　nicotine。　In　a　voice　that　was　no　encouragement　to　confession　he　dared　'the　drooling　idiot'to　declare　himself。　In　a　moment　he　opened　his　waistcoat　and　surveyed　the　damage。

'Look　at　that！'he　went　on；　complainingly。　'Ugh！　The　reeking；　filthy；　slobbering　idiot！　I　d　rather　be　slain　with　the　jaw　bone　of　an　ass。　

'You　ll　have　to　get　another　shirt；'said　the　pressman；　who　stood　near。　'You　can't　go　to　Washington　with　such　a　breast　pin。　

'I'd　breast　pin　him　if　I　knew　who　he　was；'said　the　editor。'

A　number　of　us　followed　him　downstairs　and　a　young　man　went　up　the　Bowery　for　a　new　shirt。　When　it　came　the　Printer　took　off　the　soiled　gannent；　flinging　it　into　a　corner；　and　I　helped　him　to　put　himself　in　proper　fettle　again。　This　finished；　he　ran　away；　hurriedly；　with　his　carpet…bag；　and　I　missed　the　opportunity　I　wanted　for　a　brief　talk　with　him。

Chapter　39

My　regiment　left　New　York　by　night　in　a　flare　of　torch　and　rocket。　The　streets　were　lined　with　crowds　now　hardened　to　the　sound　of　fife　and　drum　and　the　pomp　of　military　preparation。　I　had　a　very　high　and　mighty　feeling　in　me　that　wore　away　in　the　discomfort　of　travel。　For　hours　after　the　train　started　we　sang　and　told　stories；　and　ate　peanuts　and　pulled　and　hauled　at　each　other　in　a　cloud　of　tobacco　smoke。　The　train　was　sidetracked　here　and　there；　and　dragged　along　at　a　slow　pace。

Young　men　with　no　appreciation；　as　it　seemed　to　me；　of　the　sad　business　we　were　off　upon；　went　roistering　up　and　down　the　aisles；　drinking　out　of　bottles　and　chasing　around　the　train　as　it　halted。　These　revellers　grew　quiet　as　the　night　wore　on。　The　boys　began　to　dose　their　eyes　and　lie　back　for　rest。　Some　lay　in　the　aisle。　their　heads　upon　their　knapsacks。　The　air　grew　chilly　and　soon　I　could　hear　them　snoring　all　about　me　and　the　chatter　of　frogs　in　the　near　marshes。　I　closed　my　eyes　and　vainly　courted　sleep。　A　great　sadness　had　lain　hold　of　me。　I　had　already　given　up　my　life　for　my　country　…　I　was　only　going　away　now　to　get　as　dear　a　price　for　it　as　possible　in　the　hood　of　its　enemies。　When　and　where　would　it　be　taken？　I　wondered。　The　fear　had　mostly　gone　out　of　me　in　days　and　nights　of　solemn　thinking。　The　feeling　I　had；　with　its　flavour　of　religion；　is　what　has　made　the　volunteer　the　mighty　soldier　he　has　ever　been；　I　take　it；　since　Naseby　and　Marston　Moor。　The　soul　is　the　great　Captain；　and　with　a　just　quarrel　it　will　warm　its　sword　in　the　enemy；　however　he　may　be　trained　to　thrust　and　parry。　In　my　sacrifice　there　was　but　one　reservation　…　I　hoped　I　should　not　be　horribly　cut　with　a　sword　or　a　bayonet。　I　had　written　a　long　letter　to　Hope；　who　was　yet　at　Leipzig。　I　wondered　if　she　would　care　what　became　of　me。　I　got　a　sense　of　comfort　thinking　I　would　show　her　that　I　was　no　coward；　with　all　my　littleness。　I　had　not　been　able　to　write　to　Uncle　Eb　or　to　my　father　or　mother　in　any　serious　tone　of　my　feeling　in　this　enterprise。　I　had　treated　it　as　a　kind　of　holiday　from　which　I　should　return　shortly　to　visit　them。

All　about　me　seemed　to　be　sleeping　…　some　of　them　were　talking　in　their　dreams。　As　it　grew　light；　one　after　another　rose　and　stretched　himself；　rousing　his　seat　companion。　The　train　halted；　a　man　shot　a　musket　voice　in　at　the　car　door。　It　was　loaded　with　the　many　syllables　of　'Annapolis　Junction　。　We　were　pouring　out　of　the　train　shortly；　to　bivouac　for　breakfastin　the　depot　yard。　So　I　began　the　life　of　a　soldier；　and　how　it　ended　with　me　many　have　read　in　better　books　than　this；　but　my　story　of　it　is　here　and　only　here。

We　went　into　camp　there　on　the　lonely　flats　of　east　Maryland　for　a　day　or　two；　as　we　supposed；　but　really　for　quite　two　weeks。　In　the　long　delay　that　followed；　my　way　traversed　the　dead　levels　of　routine。　When　Southern　sympathy　had　ceased　to　wreak　its　wrath　upon　the　railroads　about　Baltimore　we　pushed　on　to　Washington。　There　I　got　letters　from　Uncle　Eb　and　Elizabeth　Brower。　The　former　I　have　now　in　my　box　of　treasures　…　a　torn　and　faded　remnant　of　that　dark　period。

DEAR　SIR'pen　in　hand　to　hat　you　know　that　we　are　all　wel。　also　that　we　was　sorry　you　could　not　come　horn。　They　took　on　terribul。　Hope　she　wrote　a　letter。　Said　she　had　not　herd　from　you。　also　that　somebody　wrote　to　her　you　was　goin　to　be　married。　You　had　oughter　write　her　a　letter；　Bill。　Looks　to　me　so　you　hain't　used　her　right。　Shes　a　comm　horn　in　July。　Sowed　corn　to　day　in　the　gardin。　David　is　off　byin　catul。　I　hope　God　will　take　care　uv　you；　boy；　so　goodbye　from　yours　truly

EBEN　HOLDEN

I　wrote　immediately　to　Unde　Eb　and　told　him　of　the　letters　I　had　sent　to　Hope；　and　of　my　effort　to　see　her。

Late　in　May；　after　Virginia　had　seceded；　some　thirty　thousand　of　us　were　sent　over　to　the　south　side　of　the　Potomac；　where　for　weeks　we　tore　the　flowery　fields；　lining　the　shore　with　long　entrenchments。

Meantime　I　wrote　three　letters　to　Mr　Greeley；　and　had　the　satisfaction　of　seeing　them　in　the　Tribune。　I　took　much　interest　in　the　camp　drill；　and　before　we　crossed　the　river　I　had　been　raised　to　the　rank　of　first　lieutenant。　Every　day　we　were　looking　for　the　big　army　of　Beauregard；　camping　below　Centreville；　some　thirty　miles　south。

Almost　every　night　a　nervous　picket　set　the　camp　in　uproar　by　challenging　a　phantom　of　his　imagination。　We　were　all　impatient　as　hounds　in　leash。　Since　they　would　not　come　up　and　give　us　battle　we　wanted　to　be　off　and　have　it　out　with　them。　And　the　people　were　tired　of　delay。　The　cry　of　'ste'boy！'was　ringing　all　over　the　north。　They　wanted　to　cut　us　loose　and　be　through　with　dallying。

Well；　one　night　the　order　came；　we　were　to　go　south　in　the　morning　…　thirty　thousand　of　us；　and　put　an　end　to　the　war。　We　did　not　get　away　until　afternoon　…　it　was　the　6th　of　July。　When　we　were　off；　horse　and　foot；　so　that　I　could　see　miles　of　the　blue　column　before　and　behind　me；　I　felt　sorry　for　the　mistaken　South。　On　the　evening　of　the　i8th　our　camp…fires　on　either　side　of　the　pike　at　Centreville　glowed　like　the　lights　of　a　city。　We　knew　the　enemy　was　near；　and　began　to　feel　a　tightening　of　the　nerves。　I　wrote　a　letter　to　the　folks　at　home　for　post　mortem　delivery；　and　put　it　into　my　trousers'pocket。　A　friend　in　my　company　called　me　aside　after　mess。

'Feel　of　that；'he　said；　laying　his　hand　on　a　full　breast。

'Feathers！'he　whispered　significantly。　'Balls　can't　go　through　'em；　ye　know。　Better　n　a　steel　breastplate！　Want　some？　

'Don't　know　but　I　do；'said　I。

We　went　into　his　tent；　where　he　had　a　little　sack　full；　and　put　a　good　wad　of　them　between　my　two　shirts。

'I　hate　the　idee　o'bein'hit　'n　the　heart；'he　said。　'That's　too　awful。　

I　nodded　my　assent。

'Shouldn't　like　t'have　a　ball　in　my　lungs；　either；'he　added。　'　'Tain't　necessary　fer　a　man　t'die　if　he　can　only　breathe。　If　a　man　gits　his　leg　shot　off　an'don't　lose　his　head　an'keeps　drawin'his　breath　right　along　smooth　an　even；　I　don't　see　why　he　can't　live。　

Taps　sounded。　We　went　asleep　with　our　boots　on；　but　nothing　happened。

Three　days　and　nights　we　waited。　Some　called　it　a　farce；　some　swore；　some　talked　of　going　home。　I　went　about　quietly；　my　bosom　under　its　pad　of　feathers。　The　third　day　an　order　came　from　headquarters。　We　were　to　break　camp　at　one…thirty　in　the　morning　and　go　down　the　pike　after　Beauregard。　In　the　dead　of　the　night　the　drums　sounded。　I　rose；　half…asleep；　and　heard　the　long　roll　far　and　near。　I　shivered　in　the　cold　night　air　as　I　made　ready；　the　boys　about　me　buckled　on　knapsacks；　shouldered　their　rifles；　and　fell　into　line。　Muffled　in　darkness　there　was　an　odd　silence　in　the　great　caravan　forming　rapidly　and　waiting　for　the　word　to　move。　At　each　command　to　move　forward　I　could　hear　only　the　rub　of　leather；　the　click；　click　of　rifle　rings；　the　stir　of　the　stubble；　the　snorting　of　horses。　When　we　had　marched　an　hour　or　so　I　could　hear　the　faint　rumble　of　wagons　far　in　the　rear。　As　I　came　high　on　a　hill　top；　in　the　bending　column；　the　moonlight　fell　upon　a　league　of　bayonets　shining　above　a　cloud　of　dust　in　the　valley　…　a　splendid　picture；　fading　into　darkness　and　mystery。　At　dawn　we　passed　a　bridge　and　halted　some　three　minutes　for　a　bite。　After　a　little　march