It was an involuntary tribute yielded by public sentiment to the boy who afterwards became the "Soldier-Author."

This boy-teacher, young as he was, marshaled all his pupils into disciplined order, like the rank and file of the army, and somehow held natural words of command at his disposal whereby he wielded the human material given into his charge, as a general might wield the forces under his command. The school was his miniature world and he was its master--his diminutive kingdom wherein he was king; and within the boundary of this chosen realm his sway was absolute.

First the "Soldier-Schoolmaster," drilling his boy-pupils; then the Soldier of the Saddle, riding through shot and sh.e.l.l and war's fierce din on Virginia's historic fields; and last, but perhaps not least, the "Soldier-Author," winning golden opinions from press and people; through all these changes of his life, from boy to man, one characteristic shows plain and clear--his military bent. It is like the one bright stripe through a neutral ground, the one vein of ore deposit through the various stratifications of its native rock.

The Edwards Select School was continued until the first of November, when Glazier left home once more, this time in company with his sister Marjorie, bound for Troy. On arriving at that city he left his sister at the house of an old friend, Alexander McCoy, and went down into Rensselaer County a second time in search of a school, or rather two schools--one for his sister as well as one for himself. He succeeded in obtaining both of them on the same day, and went back to Troy that night. His own district was East Schodack, near Schodack Centre, where he had previously taught, and his sister secured the school two miles north of the village of Castleton and six miles distant from Albany.

The little school-house near Castleton, where his sister taught, was located in a lovely spot on a height overlooking the Hudson and commanding a fine view of the river and the surrounding scenery.

During the school term in their respective districts, it was Willard Glazier's habit to visit his sister once a week, on Sat.u.r.day or Sunday, and on several occasions a gentleman living at East Schodack, William Westfall by name, who owned a fine horse and sleigh, loaned him the use of his conveyance to drive to Castleton and return. The sleigh was provided with warm robes of fur and the horse was beyond doubt spirited, and a handsome specimen of the genus horse. But as we cannot look for absolute perfection in anything pertaining to earth, it may be stated that this animal was no exception to the universal rule. He had his fault, as young Glazier discovered--a disagreeable habit of running away every time he saw a train of cars. Perhaps the horse couldn't help it; it was no doubt an inherited disposition, descended to him through long lines of fractious ancestors, and therefore it need not be set down against him in the catalogue of wilful sins. But whether so or otherwise, this little unpleasantness in his disposition was an established fact, and unfortunately there were two railroads to cross between East Schodack and Castleton. On Glazier's first ride to Castleton with the Westfall horse and sleigh, he had just crossed the Boston and Albany Railroad when a freight-train rolled heavily by, which put the horse under excellent headway, and on reaching the Hudson River Railroad--the two tracks running very near each other--a pa.s.senger train came up behind him. This completed the aggregation of causes, and away flew the horse down the road to Castleton at break-neck speed. Fences disappeared like gray streaks in the distance; roadside cottages came in view and were swiftly left behind in the track of the foam-flecked animal. All that Glazier could do was to keep him in the road, until at length an old shed by the roadside served his purpose, and running him into it, the horse, puffing and snorting, was obliged to stop. On his return to East Schodack, Mr. Westfall asked him how he liked the horse.

He replied that he thought the animal a splendid traveler. He _did_ think so, beyond question.

The next Sunday young Glazier was driving again to Castleton with the same stylish turn-out; this time with his sister Marjorie in the sleigh.

She had come up to East Schodack the evening before, and he was taking her back to her school. The sleighing was excellent, the day fine, and all went merry as a marriage bell until they reached the railroad. There the inevitable train of cars loomed in view, and the puff, puff of the engine, sending out great volumes of steam and its wild screech at the crossing, completely upset what few ideas of propriety and steady travel this horse may have had in his poor, bewildered head, and, with a leap and a jerk, he was once more running away on the Castleton Road as if the entire host of the nether regions were let loose after him.

For a little while he made things around them as lively as a pot of yeast. Away went whip, robes, mittens and everything else lying loose in the bottom of the sleigh at all calculated to yield to the velocity of a whirlwind or a runaway. But Glazier proved himself master of the situation in this as in many another event of his life, and with one hand holding his frightened sister from jumping out of the sleigh, with the other he twisted the lines firmly around his wrist and kept the horse in the road, until, at the distance of three-quarters of a mile beyond Castleton, he brought the infuriated animal to a stand-still by running him against the side of a barn. Afterwards he drove leisurely back and picked up the robes, and whip and articles spilled during the wild runaway ride.

A broken shaft was the only result of this last adventure, which Glazier of course, put in repair before his return to East Schodack. Mr.

Westfall never knew until after the close of the school term that his horse had afforded the young teacher an opportunity to tell what he knew about runaways.

The school at East Schodack closed with an exhibition exceedingly creditable to the efforts of the teacher, at which Mr. Allen Barringer was present, and in a speech before the school complimented young Glazier in the highest terms. The programme of exercises was an excellent one, and was made up of original addresses, declamations, recitations and music. After the close of the school, Mr. Barringer presented Glazier with a certificate which ent.i.tled him to teach for three years, and also gave him in addition the following letter of recommendation--a tribute of which any young teacher might be justly proud, and which he carefully preserved:

"To Whom it May Concern:

"This is to certify, that I am well acquainted with Willard Glazier, he having taught school during the winters of 1859 and '60 in my Commission District. I consider him one of the most promising young teachers of my acquaintance. The school that has the good fortune to secure his services will find him one of the most capable and efficient teachers of the day.

"Allen Barringer,

"School Commissioner, Rensselaer County.

"Schodack, New York, 1860."

Early in the year 1860 he resumed his studies at the State Normal School, and remained at that inst.i.tution until the guns of Sumter sounded their war-cry through the land.

This period was the great turning-point in Willard Glazier's life, and hereafter we encounter him in a far different _role_.

CHAPTER XI

INTRODUCTION TO MILITARY LIFE.

The mutterings of war.--Enlistment.--At Camp Howe.--First experience as a soldier.--"One step to the front!"--Beyond Washington.--On guard.--Promotion.--Recruiting service.--The deserted home on Arlington Heights.--"How shall I behave in the coming battle?"--The brave Bayard.--On the march.--The stratagem at Falmouth Heights.--A brilliant charge.--After the battle.

The inevitable results of the discord so long pending between North and South acc.u.mulated day by day; and when, at length, Abraham Lincoln was elected by a large popular majority, that election was, as everybody knows, immediately followed by the calling of a Southern States Convention, the secession, one after another, of each of those States, the capture of Fort Sumter, the killing of Ellsworth, and the defeat of the Federal troops at Bull Run. All of these occurrences contributed to inflame the pa.s.sions, intensify the opinions, and arouse the enthusiasm of the people of both sections to fever-heat.

It was in the whirl and torrent of this popular storm that Willard Glazier was caught up and swept into the ranks of the Union army.

His regiment, the Harris Light Cavalry, was originally intended for the regular service--to rank as the Seventh Regular Cavalry. The general government, however, concluded to limit the number of their regiments of horse to six--the reasons for which are given by Captain Glazier in his "Soldiers of the Saddle," as follows:

"Under the military _regime_ of General Scott, the cavalry arm of the service had been almost entirely overlooked. His previous campaigns in Mexico, which consisted chiefly of the investment of walled towns and of a.s.saults on fortresses, had not been favorable to extensive cavalry operations, and he was not disposed, at so advanced an age in life, materially to change his tactics of war."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Cavalry Column On The March.]

Hence, this regiment was mustered into service as the "Second Regiment of New York Cavalry," and, as Senator Ira Harris had extended to the organization the influence of his name and purse, it soon came to be called the "Harris Light Cavalry," and retained that t.i.tle throughout the whole of its eventful career. The natural tastes of young Glazier led him into this branch of the service in preference to the infantry, and we find him writing to his sister Marjorie as follows:

Camp Howe, near Scarsdale, New York, _August 16th, 1861_.

My Dear Sister: From the post-mark of this letter you will at once conjecture the truth ere I tell it to you, and I can fancy you saying to yourself when you glance at it: "Willard is no longer talking about enlisting but has really entered the army." You are right, I now wear the Union Blue.

Many of our home friends will doubtless wonder why I have sacrificed my professional prospects at a time when they first began to look cheering, in order to share the hardships and perils of a soldier's life. But I need not explain, to _you_, my reasons for doing so. When our country is threatened with destruction by base and designing men, in order to gratify personal ambition and love of sway, it becomes her sons to go to her rescue and avert the impending ruin. The rebelling South has yet to learn the difference between the _true principles_ of the Const.i.tution and the _delusion_ of "State rights." It is as easy to die a volunteer as a drafted soldier, and in my opinion, is infinitely more honorable.

I shall return to my studies as soon as the Rebellion is put down and the authority of our Government fully restored, and not _until_ then.

Let me give you a sketch of our movements thus far. Having reached Troy at 3 o'clock on the afternoon of the day you and I parted, I spent the remainder of the evening until 8 o'clock in the city. At that hour we embarked for New York, and the boys had a very exciting and enthusiastic time on board the steamer Vanderbilt.

Wednesday was spent at 648 Broadway, Regimental Headquarters of the "Harris Light Cavalry;" and on that night we came by train to our present camp: or, rather, as near it as we could, for it is two miles from the nearest station. The spot is picturesque enough to be described. An old farm, surrounded by stone fences that look like ramparts, const.i.tutes the camp. The Hudson and Harlem rivers are in full view, and the country around is full of beauty. On the first night we _bivouacked_ upon the bare sod, with no covering for our bodies but the broad canopy of heaven. It was not until a late hour on the following afternoon that our white tents began to dot the ground and gleam through the dark foliage of the trees.

Crowds of visitors from the neighboring village come out every day to see us. My health was never better, and this sort of life affords me keen enjoyment. The very roughness of it is invigorating. My present writing-desk is the top of the stone wall I have alluded to, so you must criticise neither my penmanship nor my style. I received a letter from father on Tuesday afternoon, and, thank G.o.d! I enter the service with his full approbation. The discipline enforced here is strict, our rations are good, fruit is very abundant, and to be had for the asking; so that if you will only write soon and often, there will be little else required to fill the wants of

Your affectionate brother, Willard.

Fortunately for their future comfort, the Harris Light Cavalry, at the very outset of its military career, was placed under the charge of a rigid and skilful disciplinarian--one Captain A. N. Duffie--who, having graduated honorably at the celebrated French military school, St. Cyr, possessed all the martial enthusiasm as well as personal peculiarities of his excitable countrymen.

The captain either was, or believed himself to be, an eloquent speaker, and his efforts at rhetorical display, added to his French p.r.o.nunciation of English words, became a source of great amus.e.m.e.nt to the men. He was wont to harangue them, as if they were about to enter upon a sanguinary battle. The old stone walls of the peaceful farm were pictured as bristling with the enemy's bayonets, and the boys were called on to "charge" at the hidden foe and capture him.

"One morning," says Captain Glazier, "after a week spent in drill, we were all surprised by receiving an order to 'fall into line,' and discovered that the object of this movement was to listen to a Napoleonic harangue from Captain Duffie. So loud had been our protests, so manifest our rebellious spirit on the subject of fortifying a peaceful farm on the banks of the Hudson, that the captain undoubtedly feared he might not be very zealously supported by us in his future movements, and, like Napoleon on a.s.suming command of the Army of Italy, sought to test the devotion of his men. After amusing us a-while in broken English, appealing to our patriotism and honor, he at length shouted:

"'Now, as many of you as are ready to follow me to the cannon's mouth, take one step to the front!'

"This _ruse_ was perfectly successful, and the whole line took the desired step."

The time pa.s.sed pleasantly enough in this camp of instruction, despite the monotony of drill and guard duty, and, by the time the order to break camp reached the men, they were well advanced in the duties of the soldier.

The regiment left Camp Howe about the end of August, and, pa.s.sing through New York, entered that most beautiful and patriotic of cities, Philadelphia, where they were royally entertained by the managers of the "Volunteer Refreshment Saloon." They at length reached Washington and encamped a half mile beyond the Capitol.

From this point Glazier writes to his mother as follows:

Camp Oregon, Near Washington, D.C., _August 25th, 1861_.

Dear Mother: I am at present seated under the branches of a large peach tree that marks the spot where two sentinels of our army, while on duty last night, were shot by the rebels. I was one of the same guard, having been a.s.signed to such duty for the first time since entering the service. Like all other sentinels, I was obliged to walk my lonely beat with drawn sabre.

It may interest you to know where I performed my first guard duty.

It was in front of the residence of a rabid secessionist, who is now an officer in the famous Black-Horse Cavalry. You may remember that this regiment was reported to have been utterly destroyed at Bull Run, and yet I am informed by Washingtonians that it had but two companies in the fight. So much for newspaper gossip.