At the time of which we write, recruiting officers were not very particular in regard to the age of those whom they received into the volunteer army. If the young man seemed to have the requisite physical qualifications, it was of little consequence what his age was; and Tom Somers was tall enough and stout enough to make a very good soldier.  
Captain Benson examined the certificate brought to him by the young recruit, not, however, because it was deemed a necessary legal form, but because he was acquainted with his father and mother, and would not willingly have done any thing to displease them. The matter, therefore, was disposed of to the satisfaction of all the parties concerned, and Tom actually commenced his career as a soldier boy. He immediately resigned his situation in the store, for the company now numbered forty men, not half a dozen of whom had any knowledge whatever of military drill.
 
As the volunteers of the Pinchbrook company could ill afford to lose the time devoted to drill before they should be mustered into the service of the United States, the town voted to pay each man fifteen dollars a month for three months. This generous and patriotic action of the town rejoiced the heart of Tom Somers, for his mother actually needed the pittance he had earned at the store. Mrs. Somers had heard nothing from her husband; but the destruction of the Gosport Navy Yard, and the seizure of several northern vessels in the harbor of Norfolk, left her little to hope for in that direction. Suddenly an impregnable wall seemed to rise up between the North and the South, and she not only feared that Captain Somers had lost all his worldly possessions, but that he would hardly be able to escape himself from the fiery furnace of secession and treason.
 
To her, therefore, the future looked dark and forbidding. She foresaw that she and her family would be subjected to the pressure of want, or at least be dependent upon the kindness of friends for support. She had freely stated her fears to her children, and fully exhibited the insufficiency of the family resources. The vote of the town was a perfect godsend to Tom, and a fat legacy from a rich relative would not have kindled a stronger feeling of gratitude in his soul.
 
For the next five weeks, Tom was employed forenoon, afternoon, and evening, in the drill, and he soon made himself proficient. The company was recruited nearly up to its maximum number, and was then attached to the —th regiment, which had just been formed and ordered to Fort Warren.
 
On the 27th day of May, the company, escorted by the patriotic citizens of Pinchbrook, marched to Boston, and Tom took a sorrowful farewell of his mother, his brother and sisters, and a score of anxious friends.
 
“Now don’t let the rebels hit you in the backbone, Thomas,” said gran’ther Green, as he shook the hand of the soldier boy.
 
“No, gran’ther; if I can’t fight, I won’t run away,” replied Tom.
 
“You’ve got good blood in your veins, my boy: don’t disgrace it. I don’t know as you’ll ever see me again, but God bless you, Thomas;” and the old man turned away to hide the tears which began to course down his wrinkled cheek.
 
“Be a good boy, Thomas,” added his mother.
 
“I will, mother.”
 
“And remember what I’ve been telling you. I’m not half so much afraid of your being killed by a bullet, as I am of your being ruined by bad men.”
 
“You needn’t fear any thing of that kind, mother.”
 
“I shall pray that you may be saved from your friends as well as from your enemies. We shall see you again before you go off, I hope.”
 
“Yes, mother; we shall not be sent south yet.”
 
“Don’t forget to read your Testament, Thomas,” said Mrs. Somers.
 
“I won’t, mother,” replied the soldier boy, as he again shook hands with all the members of the family, kissed his mother and his sisters, and hitching up his knapsack, took his place in the ranks.
 
His heart seemed to be clear up in his throat. During the tender scene he had just passed through, he had manfully resisted his inclination to weep, but he could no longer restrain the tears. Suddenly they came like a flood bursting the gates that confined it, and he choked and sobbed like a little girl. He leaned upon his musket, covering his face with his arm.
 
“It’s a hard case,” said private Hapgood, who stood next to him in the ranks.
 
“I didn’t think it would take me down like this,” sobbed Tom.
 
“Don’t blubber, Tom. Let’s go off game,” added Ben Lethbridge, who stood on the other side of him.
 
“I can’t help it, Ben.”
 
“Yes, you can—dry up! Soldiers don’t cry, Tom.”
 
“Yes, they do, my boy,” said Hapgood, who was a little old man, nearly ten years beyond the period of exemption from military duty. “I don’t blame Tom for crying, and, in my opinion, he’ll fight all the better for it.”
 
“Perhaps he will, old un; but I don’t think much of a soldier that blubbers like a baby. I hope he won’t run away when he sees the rebels coming,” sneered Ben.
 
“If he does, he’ll have a chance to see how thick the heels of your boots are,” answered the old man.
 
“What do you mean by that, old un?” demanded Ben.
 
“Attention—company! Shoulder—arms! Forward—march!” said the captain; and the discussion was prevented from proceeding any further.
 
The band, which was at the head of the citizens’ column, struck up an inspiring march, and Tom dried his tears. The escort moved off, followed by the company. They passed the little cottage of Captain Somers, and Tom saw the whole family except John, who was in the escort, standing at the front gate. The old soldier swung his hat, Tom’s sisters and his mother waved their handkerchiefs; but when they saw the soldier boy, they had to use them for another purpose. Tom felt another upward pressure in the region of the throat; but this time he choked dow............