But that night came news that made everybody give up the idea of a "furlough," or "going home." The Richmond government, being determined to "make the North feel the war as she had not felt it," had organized the "grand raid."

An order came for Captain Leigh's regiment to march at daylight.

"Tobe," said the captain, "you can go in one of the baggage-wagons. Strap up my blanket and poncho, and take them along; and these boots, take particular care of them, for it's not often I can get a pair of cavalry boots to fit as they do."

"Yer needn't be feared, Ma.s.s Cap'n; I'se take care of 'em de bes' I knows."

The main body of the raiders were reported on the line of the South Mountains, making for Gettysburg. Scouting expeditions were sent out from the Northern army in all directions, and a body of troops, including Captain Leigh's regiment, was ordered to proceed by the shortest route to Gettysburg and head the rebels off. One of the baggage-wagons broke down.

The driver of another wagon stopped to help his comrade. The troops pa.s.sed on, and the two wagons were left alone on the mountain. In one of them was Tobe with the captain's boots, over which he kept constant watch. The men worked busily at the wagon and Tobe sat watching them. Suddenly a tramping of horses' feet was heard, and a party of cavalry came round a turn in the road.

"That's good," said one of the men; "there's some of the boys. If they'll wait a few minutes we can go along with 'em."

"'Tain't none of our boys," said the other, after a keen glance; "them's rebs."

At the word, Tobe slid down in the bottom of the wagon under some blankets, and lay silent and motionless with the boots clasped in his arms.

As the soldiers advanced the officer said, apparently in reply to a question, "No, let the men go; we can't do anything with prisoners here.

But we'll look through the wagon, and, if the Yanks have anything we want, 'all's fair in war.'"

They reined their horses by the wagon, and, after a few short, sharp questions, proceeded to break open trunks and bags, and appropriate their contents.

The soldiers were about finishing their examination, when one of them said, "What's that under the seat of that wagon?"

"Oh! nothing but a torn blanket," said another. "'Tain't worth taking. We have got all we want."

"There may be something under it, though."

He pushed aside the blanket with his sabre, and there lay Tobe endeavoring, but unsuccessfully, to hide the boots under him.

"Ah!" said the officer, "this is worth while. Here's just what I wanted.

Come, boy, hand over those boots, quick."

"'Deed, ma.s.sa," said Tobe, "I can't gib 'em ter yer. Dey 'longs ter Ma.s.s Cap'n, an' he tole me take keer ob 'em mos' partic'lar."

"Can't help that. I've got to have them, so pa.s.s them along."

"Please, Ma.s.sa," began Tobe; but the rebel cut him short.

"Will you give me those boots? If you don't do it, and in double-quick time, too, I'll put a ball through your black skin. I won't ask you again.

Now, will you give them up?" and he pulled out his pistol.

"'Deed, ma.s.sa, I can't, case Ma.s.sa Cap'n"--

There was a sharp click, a flash, a long, sobbing moan, and Tobe lay motionless, the boots still clasped in his arms, and great drops of blood slowly gathering upon them.

"Enemy in sight," shouted a picket riding up.

The officer hastily gave an order, and the rebels dashed off at a furious speed a few moments before a party of Union cavalry, with Captain Leigh at their head, appeared, riding from the opposite direction.

A few words sufficed for explanation. Captain Leigh laid his hand on Tobe's shoulder, and spoke his name. At the sound of the voice he loved so well, his eyes opened, and he said faintly, "Ma.s.s Cap'n, I done de bes' I knowed.

I keep de boots.'"

"O Tobe!" groaned the captain, "I wish you had given them up. I would have lost everything rather than have had this."

"Ma.s.s Cap'n."

"Yes, Tobe, what is it?"

"De little chillens, Ma.s.s Cap'n; I meaned ter wait on 'em right smart. Tell 'em"--His voice grew fainter, and his eyes closed.

"Yes, my boy: what shall I tell them?"

"Tell 'em I didn't lose de boots; I kep 'em de bes'--I knowed."

There was a faint sigh, a flutter of the eyelids, and the little life that had been so truly "de bes' he knowed" (ah! if we could all say that!) was ended.

Very reverently Captain Leigh lifted the boots, all wet and stained with blood. "I will never wear those boots again," he said; "but I will never part with them. They shall be Tobe's monument."

In the hall of Captain Leigh's house is a deep niche, and in it, on a marble slab covered with a gla.s.s case, stands a pair of cavalry boots with dark stains upon them, and on the edge of the slab, in golden letters, is the inscription:

"In memory of Tobe, Faithful unto death."

THE CROWDED STREET.

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Let me move slowly through the street, Filled with an ever-shifting train, Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like autumn rain.

How fast the flitting figures come!

The mild, the fierce, the stony face-- Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Where secret tears have left their trace.

They pa.s.s to toil, to strife, to rest-- To halls in which the feast is spread-- To chambers where the funeral guest In silence sits beside the dead.

And some to happy homes repair, Where children pressing cheek to cheek, With mute caresses shall declare The tenderness they cannot speak.

And some, who walk in calmness here, Shall shudder as they reach the door Where one who made their dwelling dear, Its flower, its light, is seen no more.

Youth, with pale cheek and slender frame, And dreams of greatness in thine eye!

Go'st thou to build an early name, Or early in the task to die?

Keen son of trade, with eager brow!

Who is now fluttering in thy snare?

Thy golden fortunes, tower they now, Or melt the glittering spires in air?