COLONEL FREDDY;
OR,
THE MARCH AND ENCAMPMENT OF THE DASHAHED ZOUAVES.
CHAPTER I.
RAISING A REGIMENT.

One bright afternoon last summer, about two weeks after the dreadful battle of Bull Run, Freddy Jourdain burst open the door of his mother's room and rushed in, exclaiming: "Jolly, mother! such fun! What do you think the boys in our school are going to do?"

"Why what?" asked his mother.[36]

"Yes, I should really like to know why you come tearing up stairs yelling like forty steam engines!" added his sister Bella, who was rather a particular young lady.

"Well," began Freddy, looking very important, "I'll try to explain, but I don't believe you women can understand about us boys!"

"After that speech I think you had better explain," said Bella, "if you're not in want of a thimble pie on your knuckles."

"Well, then," cried Freddy, with sparkling eyes, "the boys at our school are all square against that old Jeff. Davis, and in recess yesterday, we concluded that we ought to go and help shoot the Southerners. So we've[37] organized a regiment, and I'm chosen Colonel; and I'm going to take my regiment to camp on Monday, that is, if you'll let me. Mayn't I, mother? It's such fun, and Tom Pringle's given me such a jolly popgun! Hurrah for Jackson and the Stars and Stripes!" So saying, Freddy cut a caper in the air, that made about forty "chaney alleys," "stony alleys," "glass agates," and "middles," pop out of his satchel, which was slung over one shoulder, and roll into all the corners of the room.

"Where is your encampment to be?" said his mother, as gravely as she could.

"Oh, down on Mr. Schermerhorn's place at Astoria. Peter Schermerhorn[38] told us to-day that his father was willing we should have it there, and has invited us all to come and stay a whole week. We're to live in real tents!" (here Freddy couldn't help cutting another caper,) "and cook our own dinners, and—oh, mother, mayn't I go? say!"

"I do not think of any objection at present," replied Mrs. Jourdain, "but you must wait until your father comes home, and hear what he has to say. It was very kind of Mr. Schermerhorn to invite you all, but I am afraid he will be driven distracted with such a number of harem-scarem boys running about his place."

At this moment Joseph, the black waiter, knocked at the door, and announced,[39] with an air of high-flown elegance, that "Major Schermerhorn was in the drawing salon (which he considered the purest Parisian French for front parlor), and desired to see Col. Jourdain;" and our young friend was off like a shot, Joseph following at a dignified pace.

Joseph, like most other colored servants in New York, was a person of the highest fashion, according to his own notions. No short words for him, I can tell you. I remember well the first time I called upon his mistress, I inquired, "Does Mrs. Jourdain live here?" and Joseph, drawing himself up with an air of superior refinement, replied, "Mrs. Jourdain resides here, madam." At dinner parties, when[40] he waited upon table, he was the most dignified person present, and held his head up so high that he looked as if it would shortly go through the chandelier. He was always dressed in the finest broadcloth and patent leather, his black face and white necktie presenting an admirable contrast, while he used all the five cornered words in the dictionary in replying to any question, and always handed the dishes to the ladies with a flourish of the most astonishing character.

Now, if I tell you a secret, you must promise not to let any one know it. Freddy's parents live in the Fifth avenue above Madison Square, in the city of New York. His father is a rich man, and Freddy, a bright, manly lad,[41] between thirteen and fourteen at the time I am writing about, and the only son, is a good deal indulged. But don't think he ever abuses the kindness of his loving papa and mamma; no—although he is full of noise, fun, and innocent mischief, he is a good, obedient little fellow—and that is why they love to do all they can to make him happy. But you must not tell that I said where he lives.

When Mr. Jourdain came home that evening, Freddy, of course, began to tell him the first thing, about the regiment and Mr. Schermerhorn's delightful invitation. You may be sure he gave a full-length description of the pleasures of camp life, as retailed by Peter to an enthusiastic audience[42] at recess; and backed up his request to go by such powerful pleas of sparkling, eager eyes, flushed, happy face, and irresistible, dimpling smile, that the hardest-hearted papa in existence would have said "yes." Mr. Jourdain, being anything but hard-hearted, readily consented, as he was intimately acquainted with Mr. Schermerhorn and family, and knew there was no fear on a private place of their meeting with danger, or getting into trouble.

Then his father went on to ask a great many questions about the regiment, how many boys belonged to it, what their sizes were, and where they lived; all of which Freddy delightedly answered, and kept up a continuous[43] chattering until a quarter past nine, which, being his bed time, he was reluctantly obliged to trot up stairs.

After he was fairly out of the room, his father and mother had a long consultation, which resulted next day in Mr. Jourdain's paying a visit to "Brooks Brothers," the tailors in Broadway, and afterward going to a certain store in Maiden Lane, which had all manner of toy knapsacks and guns in the window. What could he have gone there for, I wonder? and then betaken himself to the police station in B—— street? Really, it seems very mysterious, but wait a little, and you'll see.

Meanwhile Freddy, with his satchel hanging down his back to look as[44] much like a knapsack as possible, marched off to school bright and early; whistling the "Star-spangled Banner" as he went along, and looking with the utmost pity upon strange boys, who hadn't the honor of belonging to his glorious regiment, the "Dashahed Zouaves," as his father had advised him to name it.

He reached Dr. Larned's academy just as Peter, Harry, and half a dozen others were going in. They greeted him directly with a shout of "Well, Fred, what does your father say?"

"Oh, I'm to go!" cried Freddy, "I say, fellows, what do you think of the Dashahed Zouaves for a name?"

"That's splendid! capital!" was the cry of the party. I am afraid I[45] must add that Peter said "that's gay!"

There was no time to talk ............