I cannot describe the emotions of the returned soldier when the horse stopped at the garden gate.

Leaping from the vehicle, he rushed into the house, and bolted into the kitchen, even before the family had seen the horse at the front gate.
"How d'ye do, mother ?" cried Tom, as he threw himself pell-mell into the arms of Mrs.Somers.
"Why, Tom!" almost screamed she, as she returned his embrace.

"How _do_ you do ?" "Pretty well, mother.

How do you do, father ?" "Glad to see you," replied Captain Somers, as he seized his son's hand.
"Bless my soul, Tom!" squeaked gran'ther Greene, shaking in every fibre of his frame from the combined influence of rhapsody and rheumatism.
Tom threw both arms around Jenny's neck, and kissed her half a dozen times with a concussion like that of a battery of light artillery.
"Why, Tom! I never thought nothin' of seein' you!" exclaimed Mrs.Somers.
"I thought you was sick in the hospital." "I am better now, and home for thirty days." "And got your new rig on," added his father.
"Captain Barney wouldn't let me come home without my shoulder-straps.

I met him in the city.