" 'You must think of her often,' I said.

" 'All the time,' he answered seriously, a thoughtful expression
stealing over his young face. 'I write to her twice a week
regular, and sometimes oftener. For her sake I hope my life may
be spared to return.'

" 'I hope so, too,' I answered warmly. Then after a minute's
silence, I added from some impulse: 'Will you let me call you
Frank? I have a boy at home, not many years younger than you. His
name is Frank also--it will seem to remind me of him.'

" 'I wish you would,' he answered, his face lighting up with
evident pleasure. 'Everybody calls me Frank at home, and I am
tired of being called Grover.'

"So our compact was made. I shall feel a warm interest in this
brave boy, and I fervently hope that the chances of war will
leave him unscathed.

"I must give you a description of Hiram Marden, another of our
small company, a very different kind of person from Frank Grover.
But it takes all sorts of characters to make an army, as well as
a world, and Marden is one of the oddities. Imagine a tall young
fellow, with a thin face, lantern jaws, and long hair 'slicked'
down on either side. Though he may be patriotic, he was led into
the army from a different cause. He cherished an attachment for a
village beauty, who did not return his love. He makes no
concealment of his rebuff, but appears to enjoy discoursing in a