It is the old story; my poor boy!"
"No; my only creditors were my landlady and my laundress, two poor
widows who never willingly distressed me, but who occasionally asked
for 'that little amount' so piteously that my heart bled to lack it
to give them. And as victuals and clean shirts were absolute
necessaries of life, every week my debts increased. I could have
faced a prosperous male creditor, and might, perhaps, have been
provoked to bully such an one, had he been inclined to be cruel; but
I could not face poor women who, after all, I believe, are generally
the best friends a struggling young man can have; and so, not to
bore a smart young lieutenant with a poor private's antecedents--"
"Oh, Traverse--"
"--I will even make an end of my story. 'At last there came a weary
day when hope and faith beneath the weight gave way.' And, hearing
that a company of volunteers was being raised to go to Mexico, I
enlisted, sold my citizen's wardrobe and my little medical library,
paid my debts, made my two friends, the poor widows, some acceptable
presents, sent the small remnant of the money to my mother, telling
her that I was going farther south to try my fortune, and--here I
am."
"You did not tell her that you had enlisted?"
"No."
"Oh, Traverse, how long ago was it that you left St. Louis?"
"Just two weeks.
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