They had something to do with my
coming here, and at last I had for a friend one of their kin. I
think he felt the bond of sympathy between us and prized it, for
he showed me in many silent ways that he was fond of me. There was
about him an infinite pathos, penned up there in his old age among
the tenements of Mulberry Street on the pay of a second-rate clerk,
that never ceased to appeal to me. When he lay dead, stricken like
the soldier he was at his post, some letters of his to Mrs. Harriet
Converse, the adopted child of his tribe, went to my heart. They
were addressed to her on her travels. He was of the "wolf" tribe,
she a "snipe." "From the wolf to the wandering snipe," they ran.
Even in Mulberry Street he was a true son of the forest.
Perhaps the General's sympathies went out to me as a fighter. The
change of front from night to day brought no let-up on hostilities
in our camp; rather the reverse. For this there was good cause:
I had interfered with long-cherished privileges. I found the day
men coming to work at all hours from ten to twelve or even one
o'clock.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279