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agged　about　and　limbered　and　unlimbered　and　fired；　to　the　imminent　danger　of　everybody；　especially　of　the　company。　　In　point　of　marching；　with　all　the　legs　going　together；　and　twisting　itself　up　and　untwisting　breaking　into　single…　file　（for　Indian　fighting）；　and　forming　platoons；　turning　a　sharp　corner；　and　getting　out　of　the　way　of　a　wagon；　circling　the　town　pump；　frightening　horses；　stopping　short　in　front　of　the　tavern；　with　ranks　dressed　and　eyes　right　and　left；　it　was　the　equal　of　any　military　organization　I　ever　saw。　　It　could　train　better　than　the　big　company；　and　I　think　it　did　more　good　in　keeping　alive　the　spirit　of　patriotism　and　desire　to　fight。　　Its　discipline　was　strict。　　If　a　boy　left　the　ranks　to　jab　a　spectator；　or　make　faces　at　a　window；　or　〃go　for〃　a　striped　snake；　he　was　〃hollered〃　at　no　end。

It　was　altogether　a　very　serious　business；　there　was　no　levity　about　the　hot　and　hard　marching；　and　as　boys　have　no　humor；　nothing　ludicrous　occurred。　　John　was　very　proud　of　his　office；　and　of　his　ability　to　keep　the　rear　ranks　closed　up　and　ready　to　execute　any　maneuver　when　the　captain　〃hollered；〃　which　he　did　continually。　　He　carried　a　real　sword；　which　his　grandfather　had　worn　in　many　a　militia　campaign　on　the　village　green；　the　rust　upon　which　John　fancied　was　Indian　blood；　he　had　various　red　and　yellow　insignia　of　military　rank　sewed　upon　different　parts　of　his　clothes；　and　though　his　cocked　hat　was　of　pasteboard；　it　was　decorated　with　gilding　and　bright　rosettes；　and　floated　a　red　feather　that　made　his　heart　beat　with　martial　fury　whenever　he　looked　at　it。　　The　effect　of　this　uniform　upon　the　girls　was　not　a　matter　of　conjecture。　　I　think　they　really　cared　nothing　about　it；　but　they　pretended　to　think　it　fine；　and　they　fed　the　poor　boy's　vanity；　the　weakness　by　which　women　govern　the　world。

The　exalted　happiness　of　John　in　this　military　service　I　daresay　was　never　equaled　in　any　subsequent　occupation。　　The　display　of　the　company　in　the　village　filled　him　with　the　loftiest　heroism。　　There　was　nothing　wanting　but　an　enemy　to　fight；　but　this　could　only　be　had　by　half　the　company　staining　themselves　with　elderberry　juice　and　going　into　the　woods　as　Indians；　to　fight　the　artillery　from　behind　trees　with　bows　and　arrows；　or　to　ambush　it　and　tomahawk　the　gunners。　This；　however；　was　made　to　seem　very　like　real　war。　　Traditions　of　Indian　cruelty　were　still　fresh　in　western　Massachusetts。　　Behind　John's　house　in　the　orchard　were　some　old　slate　tombstones；　sunken　and　leaning；　which　recorded　the　names　of　Captain　Moses　Rice　and　Phineas　Arms；　who　had　been　killed　by　Indians　in　the　last　century　while　at　work　in　the　meadow　by　the　river；　and　who　slept　there　in　the　hope　of　the　glorious　resurrection。　　Phineas　Arms　martial　namewas　long　since　dust；　and　even　the　mortal　part　of　the　great　Captain　Moses　Rice　had　been　absorbed　in　the　soil　and　passed　perhaps　with　the　sap　up　into　the　old　but　still　blooming　apple…trees。　　It　was　a　quiet　place　where　they　lay；　but　they　might　have　heardif　hear　they　couldthe　loud；　continuous　roar　of　the　Deerfield；　and　the　stirring　of　the　long　grass　on　that　sunny　slope。　　There　was　a　tradition　that　years　ago　an　Indian；　probably　the　last　of　his　race；　had　been　seen　moving　along　the　crest　of　the　mountain；　and　gazing　down　into　the　lovely　valley　which　had　been　the　favorite　home　of　his　tribe；　upon　the　fields　where　he　grew　his　corn；　and　the　sparkling　stream　whence　he　drew　his　fish。　John　used　to　fancy　at　times；　as　he　sat　there；　that　he　could　see　that　red　specter　gliding　among　the　trees　on　the　hill；　and　if　the　tombstone　suggested　to　him　the　trump　of　judgment；　he　could　not　separate　it　from　the　war…whoop　that　had　been　the　last　sound　in　the　ear　of　Phineas　Arms。　　The　Indian　always　preceded　murder　by　the　war…whoop；　and　this　was　an　advantage　that　the　artillery　had　in　the　fight　with　the　elderberry　Indians。　　It　was　warned　in　time。　　If　there　was　no　war…　whoop；　the　killing　did　n't　count；　the　artillery　man　got　up　and　killed　the　Indian。　　The　Indian　usually　had　the　worst　of　it；　he　not　only　got　killed　by　the　regulars；　but　he　got　whipped　by　the　home　guard　at　night　for　staining　himself　and　his　clothes　with　the　elderberry。

But　once　a　year　the　company　had　a　superlative　parade。　　This　was　when　the　military　company　from　the　north　part　of　the　town　joined　the　villagers　in　a　general　muster。　　This　was　an　infantry　company；　and　not　to　be　compared　with　that　of　the　village　in　point　of　evolutions。　There　was　a　great　and　natural　hatred　between　the　north　town　boys　and　the　center。　　I　don't　know　why；　but　no　contiguous　African　tribes　could　be　more　hostile。　　It　was　all　right　for　one　of　either　section　to　〃lick〃　the　other　if　he　could；　or　for　half　a　dozen　to　〃lick〃　one　of　the　enemy　if　they　caught　him　alone。　　The　notion　of　honor；　as　of　mercy；　comes　into　the　boy　only　when　he　is　pretty　well　grown；　to　some　neither　ever　comes。　　And　yet　there　was　an　artificial　military　courtesy　（something　like　that　existing　in　the　feudal　age；　no　doubt）　which　put　the　meeting　of　these　two　rival　and　mutually　detested　companies　on　a　high　plane　of　behavior。　　It　was　beautiful　to　see　the　seriousness　of　this　lofty　and　studied　condescension　on　both　sides。　For　the　time　everything　was　under　martial　law。　　The　village　company　being　the　senior；　its　captain　commanded　the　united　battalion　in　the　march；　and　this　put　John　temporarily　into　the　position　of　captain；　with　the　right　to　march　at　the　head　and　〃holler；〃　a　responsibility　which　realized　all　his　hopes　of　glory。　　I　suppose　there　has　yet　been　discovered　by　man　no　gratification　like　that　of　marching　at　the　head　of　a　column　in　uniform　on　parade；　unless；　perhaps；　it　is　marching　at　their　head　when　they　are　leaving　a　field　of　battle。　　John　experienced　all　the　thrill　of　this　conspicuous　authority；　and　I　daresay　that　nothing　in　his　later　life　has　so　exalted　him　in　his　own　esteem；　certainly　nothing　has　since　happened　that　was　so　important　as　the　events　of　that　parade　day　seemed。　　He　satiated　himself　with　all　the　delights　of　war。




XVIII

COUNTRY　SCENES

It　is　impossible　to　say　at　what　age　a　New　England　country…boy　becomes　conscious　that　his　trousers…legs　are　too　short；　and　is　anxious　about　the　part　of　his　hair　and　the　fit　of　his　woman…made　roundabout。　　These　harrowing　thoughts　come　to　him　later　than　to　the　city　lad。　　At　least；　a　generation　ago　he　served　a　long　apprenticeship　with　nature　only　for　a　master；　absolutely　unconscious　of　the　artificialities　of　life。

But　I　do　not　think　his　early　education　was　neglected。　　And　yet　it　is　easy　to　underestimate　the　influences　that；　unconsciously　to　him；　were　expanding　his　mind　and　nursing　in　him　heroic　purposes。　　There　was　the　lovely　but　narrow　valley；　with　its　rapid　mountain　stream；　there　were　the　great　hills　which　he　climbed；　only　to　see　other　hills　stretching　away　to　a　broken　and　tempting　horizon；　there　were　the　rocky　pastures；　and　the　wide　sweeps　of　forest　through　which　the　winter　tempests　howled；　upon　which　hung　the　haze　of　summer　heat；　over　which　the　great　shadows　of　summer　clouds　traveled；　there　were　the　clouds　themselves；　shouldering　up　above　the　peaks；　hurrying　across　the　narrow　sky；the　clouds　out　of　which　the　wind　came；　and　the　lightning　and　the　sudden　dashes　of　rain；　and　there　were　days　when　the　sky　was　ineffably　blue　and　distant；　a　fathomless　vault　of　heaven　where　the　hen…hawk　and　the　eagle　poised　on　outstretched　wings　and　watched　for　their　prey。　　Can　you　say　how　these　things　fed　the　imagination　of　the　boy；　who　had　few　books　and　no　contact　with　the　great　world？　　Do　you　think　any　city　lad　could　have　written　〃Thanatopsis〃　at　eighteen？

If　you　had　seen　John；　in　his　short　and　roomy　trousers　and　ill…used　straw　hat；　picking　his　barefooted　way　over　the　rocks　along　the　river…　bank　of　a　cool　morning　to　see　if　an　eel　had　〃got　on；〃　you　would　not　have　fancied　that　he　lived　in　an　ideal　world。　　Nor　did　he　consciously。　　So　far　as　he　knew；　he　had　no　more　sentiment　than　a　jack…knife。　　Although　he　loved　Cynthia　Rudd　devotedly；　and　blushed　scarlet　one　day　when　his　cousin　found　a　lock　of　Cynthia's　flaming　hair　in　the　box　where　John　kept　his　fishhooks；　spruce　gum；　flag…root；　tickets　of　standing　at　the　head；　gimlet；　billets…doux　in　blue　ink；　a　vile　liquid　in　a　bottle　to　make　fish　bite；　and　other　precious　possessions；　yet　Cynthia's　society　had　no　attractions　for　him　comparable　to　a　day's　trout…fishing。　　She　was；　after　all；　only　a　single　and　a　very　undefined　item　in　his　general　ideal　world；　and　there　was　no　harm　in　letting　his　imagination　play　about　her　illumined　head。　　Since　Cynthia　had　〃got　religion〃　and　John　had　got　nothing；　his　love　was　tempered　with　a　little　awe　and　a　feeling　of　distance。　　He　was　not　fickle；　and　yet　I　cannot　say　that　he　was　not　ready　to　construct　a　new　romance；　in　which　Cynthia　should　be　eliminated。　Nothing　was　easier。　　Perhaps　it　was　a　luxurious　traveling　carriage；　drawn　by　two　splendid　horses　in　plated　harness；　driven　along　the　sandy　road。　　There　were　a　gentleman　and　a　young　lad　on　the　front　seat；　and　on　the　back　seat　a　handsome　pale　lady　with　a　little　girl　beside　her。　　Behind；　on　the　rack　with　the　trunk；　was　a　colored　boy；　an　imp　out　of　a　story…book。　　John　was　told　that　the　black　boy　was　a　slave；　and　that　the　carriage　was　from　Baltimore。　　Here　was　a　chance　for　a　romance。　　Slavery；　beauty；　wea