two years rolled away-two short, bright years of individual and national prosperity, and then came a change. to use the words of the immortal dickens, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us; we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way." these utterances of inspiration so fittingly describing the period that ushered in the bloody french revolution, may be applied with equal truth and force to the years that inaugurated the war between the states in fair america.

did not prosperity bud and blossom in every vale and hamlet of this fair domain? and yet were a people ever more unmindful of, or more ungrateful for their blessings? bickering and strife, dissension and hatred, grew fiercer with the growth of the nation's grandeur. slavery, on one hand said, "i will," and freedom, on the other, "you shall not." so the war-cloud, "the size of a man's hand" only at first, appeared upon the dim horizon of the future. wisdom sought to devise plans for averting war, but folly shook her locks tauntingly, and said mockingly, "ha! ha! war is pleasant pastime." so the culmination was reached, and a misguided people, clamorous for war, sounded the tocsin that caused rivers of blood to flow from brothers' hearts, and enshrouded a grand and happy people in desolation and disgrace.

at the time when the war-cloud of fratricidal conflict was rolling dark and broad over the land, a treacherous enemy on the border were menacing and even destroying many of our country's peaceful citizens. upon the broad frontier at the far west it became the duty of the government to hold these wily foes in check by a strong and reliable armed force. to this north-western outpost of service captain marshall had been ordered by the voice of his country. not ordered there as to a holiday excursion, but ordered into actual bloody conflict, and to an ordeal that would have tried the bravery and courage of a veteran. at the head of his command, company a, 3d regiment u. s. regulars, captain marshall reached this post of danger in the hour of its most imminent peril. but for this timely arrival of troops, the peaceful little town of minneopoli might have been laid waste, and its defenceless inhabitants cruelly butchered or carried away captive. but the premeditated destruction of the town was averted, the treacherous "red-skins" disappointed, and captain marshall's bravery demonstrated beyond a peradventure.

it was the night after the attack of the indians, and the bloody repulse. all was quiet. the troops were reassembled in camp. the usual garrulity of the soldiers was checked by the recollection of their dead comrades, so recently laid to rest in soldiers' graves. all, too, remembered the danger through which they had passed, and many were moody and silent. at length a bright-faced, light-headed young recruit spoke out, seeing the silence and sadness around the camp-fire. "i say, captain, that was a wretched red-skin of a chief that you hauled in yesterday. he looked more like the prince of darkness than the chief of a tribe. i thought once, cap'n, he had you; and i was just ready to pick him off, when i saw you were safe."

"yes, carlos, that was a close place, and but for a kind fate, i should be sleeping with those brave fellows who have left us. peace to their resting-places."

"i was sorry you did not kill him; he deserved death. but how quick he did surrender, when he saw you close in on him with your sword! ha! ha!"

"yes, mico is a bad, bad indian, and has caused more trouble to this settlement than all the other indians combined. i guess he will enjoy his freedom, when he gets it again. confinement and chains are worse than death to him."

"i tell you, cap'n, they are cowardly devils. they can't stand gunpowder. at the very smell of it they run out from their hiding-places, like so many rats from a burning building. i hated to see one of them taken alive. it's not like fighting civilized people; is it, cap'n? i am in favor of the black flag in a fight with these red devils."

"war is war, carlos, and brutalizes the most intelligent people on earth, if they indulge in it. i trust our troubles are ended here, for a long time, if not forever, now that mico is our prisoner. at any rate, i hope all will remain peaceful and tranquil till i go home and return. for a month i have a leave of absence, to visit my native state."

"going home, captain, to see your mother?" spoke up a fair-haired young boy, scarcely eighteen, who had sat a silent listener to the conversation between carlos and his commander.

"ah! franco, i have no mother; she died long ago," replied the captain; "but i am going back to my native state. my father and a brother and sister live there."

"it has been many a long day," said franco, "since i saw my native hills, and heard my mother's gentle voice, as she went singing about our humble home. i often wonder how she could sing so, with so much poverty and care constantly about her. maybe i shall never see her again ;" and a shade of sorrow crept over the fair young face of the french recruit.

the captain replied, "i trust that you may, franco, though you are now so many leagues away. what brought you away from her, franco?"

"poverty, captain, poverty; and unless i can lighten the burden of my mother's life by returning, i shall never go back!"

silence at length settled upon the camp, and one by one the groups of comrades disbanded. the campfires were extinguished, and at an early hour sleep tenderly enfolded these guardians of their country's peace and security.