A home scene.--A member of one of the Charleston
companies, on leave of absence in the city, received a summons to appear at his post on Sullivan's Island
on one of the nights when the air was rife with the most startling rumors of the coming of an overwhelming fleet.
With cheerful promptitude the brave soldier prepared to obey the imperative call.
He is a husband, and the father of a blue-eyed little girl, who has just begun to put words together.
After the preparation for the camp had been made, the soldier nerved himself for the good-bye.
Those present thought that the wife felt the parting less than the husband.
Lively words flowed fast, and her fair face was as bright and calm as a morning in May.
Her heart seemed to be full of gladness.
She cheered him with pleasant earnestness to show himself a man, and running on in a gleeful strain, admonished him not
to come back if he were shot in the back.
With incredible fortitude she bade her child tell papa good-bye, and to say to him that she would not own him her father if he proved to be a coward.
The echo of the soldier's footfall through the corridor had hardly died away, when a ghastly pallor was seen spreading over the lady's face.
In a voice weak and husky she begged a friend to take her child, and before she could be supported she fell from her chair prostrate on the floor.
By a tremendous effort the noble woman had controlled her feelings; but nature could bear no longer, and she fainted.
The swoon was deep, and it was some time before consciousness returned.
At length she opened her eyes languidly, and looked around upon the sympathizing group, and in a tremulous tone inquired “if she had fainted before her husband left the room
.” --Charleston Courier, April 16