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"He talks about what he doesn't know," Boardman pronounced sententiously. "When he's lived with decent folks a little longer, he'll get some sense knocked into his puppy head, maybe." "Maybe," Brome Porter assented, dismissing this crude, raw, green, ignorant young man with a contemptuous grunt.
Every thing of value had been taken away, and all that remained was in terrible confusion. During this robbery Mr. Boardman was painfully awake to every thing which transpired; while his wife, wearied with toil, slept as sweetly as if the villains who had caused such havoc had been kind attendants on errands of mercy. And providential was it that she did not awake.
"I see," said Boardman, showing his teeth, fine and even as grains of pop-corn, in a slight sarcastic smile. "Sort of poetical justice," he suggested. "Well, it is sort of," said Mavering, with a shamefaced consciousness. "What train are you going back on?" "Seven o'clock." "I'll be there."
His is a boundless curiosity about both men and events. His eyes are the clue to his character. Boardman Robinson, with the caricaturist's gift for catching that feature which exhibits character, said to me one day during the War, "I just passed Colonel House on the street. The most wonderful seeing eyes I ever saw!"
Harry Liscom was as white as a sheet. Once or twice he tried to push his mother away, as if he wished to do the comforting and cuddling himself; but she would not have it. "Poor child! poor child!" she kept repeating; "it's all over, don't be frightened," as if Harriet had been a baby. Then Mrs. H. Boardman Jameson came close to Caroline Liscom, and tears were running down her cheeks quite openly.
Boardman, who was in bad health, but soon she was joining her husband in thanking God for having protected them. After the robbery the officer commanding the British troops stationed two sepoys outside the mission house, and some idea of the dangers which surrounded the Boardmans may be formed from the fact that one day the sentry was attacked by a tiger.
"Oh, I think there are nice people everywhere," said the young man, with the bold expansion of youth. "Yes," sighed Mrs. Pasmer. "We saw two such delightful young people coming in and out of the hotel in Rome. We were sure they were English. And they were from Chicago! But there are not many Western people at Campobello, are there?" "I really don't know," said Mavering. "How is it, Boardman?
But his affections were now only a mirage of the past. "That gives him no power over me here," stubbornly said the defeated husband. "True; but THIS does," quietly said Boardman, handing him a paper.
D. W. Skinner, suffering from old wound, and who will be discharged; Portner E. Whitney, pioneer, good soldier; George Jacobs, private, cooking for the company; Junius Gaskell, sick most of the time; Charles Richards, paroled prisoner, sees no duty; Freeman Allen has a bad leg; Rufus Rundell, in quartermaster's department always has been; John Boardman, drummer. Where are the other 80?
Burney, each with her baby; and seven Englishmen besides Mr. Boardman. Among them rode the ghastly figure of the sick officer, who had been taken from his bed, but who hoped to encourage his men by appearing on horseback; but his almost orange skin, wasted form, sunken eyes, and perfect helplessness, were to Mrs.
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