Daisy In The Field

"I do not think Washington agrees with Daisy," Mrs. Sandford

said one morning at breakfast.

"She never looked better," said the doctor.

"No. Oh, I don't mean that; she looks all herself; yes, she is

in great beauty; but she is uncommonly abstracted and

uninterested."

"Not being in general a sensitive person," observed Dr.

Sandford.

I explained that I had never been more interested in my life;

but that these things made me sober.

"My dear Daisy!" Mrs. Sandford laughed. "You were never

anything but sober yet, in all your little life. I should like

to see you intoxicated."

I felt on dangerous ground and was silent. The doctor asked

why? - to Mrs. Sandford's last speech.

"No matter!" said the lady. "The first man she loves will know

why."

"The first," said Dr. Sandford dryly. "I hope she will not

love more than one."

"She will be an uncommonly happy woman then," said Mrs.

Sandford. "Nonsense, Grant! every woman loves two or three

before she has done. Your first liking will come to nothing, -

Daisy, my dear, I forewarn you; - and most probably the second

too; but no one will be the wiser but yourself. Why don't you

blush, child? On my word, I believe you are growing pale!

Never mind, child; I am not a prophet."

I believe the blushes came then, and they all laughed at me;

but Dr. Sandford asked me very kindly if I was too tired to

see the review that day? I was not tired; and if I had been,

nothing would have tempted me to be absent from the review. I

went everywhere, as far as I could; and Dr. Sandford was

always with us, indulging every fancy I expressed or did not

express, it seemed to me. He had to work very hard at other

times to make up for it; and I thought Washington did not

agree with him. He looked pale and jaded this day.

I thought so after the morning's work was done; at the time I

had no leisure for such thoughts. The morning's work was a

review of many thousand troops, by the President. Dr. Sandford

and our friends had secured an excellent place for us, from

which we could well see all we wished to see; and I wished to

see everything. For various reasons. The platform where Mr.

Lincoln stood had its own peculiar attractions and interests.

It held himself, first of all, standing in front, in plain

view much of the time. It held besides a group of men that one

liked to look at just then. General Scott was there, and I

know not how many other generals; the members of the Cabinet,

and inferior military officers; and each colonel of the

regiments that passed in review, after passing, dismounted and

joined the group on the platform. I looked at these officers

with particular interest, for they and their command were

going straight across into Virginia expecting active service

soon. So I looked at their men. While each regiment marched

by, the band belonging to it halted and played. They were

going to the war. In good earnest they were going now. This

was no show of pleasure; it was work; and my heart, it seemed

to me, alternately beat and stood still. Sometimes the

oppression of feeling grew very painful, obliged as I was to

hide carefully the greater part of what I felt. A little

additional stir was almost more than I could bear. One

regiment - the Garibaldis, I think, had bouquets of flowers

and greens in their hats. I did not indeed notice this, until

the foremost came just in front of the platform and the

President. Then the bouquets were taken out from the hats, and

were tossed, in military order, rank by rank, as the files

passed by, to Mr. Lincoln's feet. It was a little thing; but

how it shook me! I was glad of the rush which followed the

passing of the regiment; the rush of people eager to secure

these bunches of flowers and evergreens for memorials; the

diversion of interest for a moment gave me chance to fight

down my heart-swelling.