Year: 1862

friend" said the chaplain.


go, only the casualty Of war; we must
some of us expect it, you know" &


"Do you suffer much?'


"At times, sir, very seriously; I feel
so we'll, oaly the distress here"-and he
pressed his hands to his side. az


You will be up soon, hope - -. - S
~ trust SO, sir; the doctors say t.m a
bad wound, but will yield with care. /
only wish had my mother here. She
has heard of it, doubtless started before
this. It will seem so comforting to see
her; you don't know how I long to pee
her" ,sl


All! mothers, you are first though 81
when the hardy soldier feels the pang
of pain. 1t is your name he calls, Eour
form he sees through the mist Of de
lirum, your voice he hears in every gen.
tie word that is spoken. He knows
whose touch will be the tenderest,
through the sympathy of suffering, he
knows who has borne the most for him;
and on the tented field, tie holy name
of mother receives a fresh baptism Of
love and beauty. . . = q


81 can imagine how you feel,", said
the chaplain, land have no doubt you
will see her soon. Meanwhile, you
know there is Friend who will be more
to you than mother OF father, sister or
brother"


II realize that, sir, said the young
man. 81 am professor of religion, and
have been for years. When was shot,
and before, I commended my soul 10
Him for life or death; but I confess 1
have much to live for. am not yet
brought where I am willing to die"
"It may be for the reason that you
are not yet called to die" replied the
chaplain; "but in life you know it is one
important thing to be prepared for
death. -
After short prayer the minister and
sick man parted.


He seems very strong and sanguine,"
he said, as he met the surgeon again;
"and likely to recover"


"No doubt Of it, sir, no doubt" was
the hasty reply of the surgeon as he
passed on.


The hour of midnight had struck from
the great clock in the hall. Slowly and
solemnly it knelled the departing mo-
ment and its echo rolled through the
halls, vibrating on many an ear that
would never hear the sound of the
striking hours again. The chaplain
still sat up in his room writing letters;
for three or four of his wounded SOL
diers, and strange stiffness fell around
him as he closed the last sheet, and sat
back with folded hands to think. He
could not tell why, but dc what and go
where be would, the face of the young
volunteer with whom he had spoken last
haunted him. He arose to move to the
window where the breeze was Cooler,
when a knock was heard at the door,
and a rapid voice called "Chaplain!"-
He hurried to lift the latch. The sur
geon stood there, looking like shadow
in the dim moonlight that crept into the
passage.


"Chaplain, sorry to disturb you, and
more sorry to give you an unpleasant
duty to perform"


"Why, what Is it?' was the quick re-
j oiuder.


"Tbat fine young fellow whom you
talked with is going"


"What? you do not mean"


"Won't live an hour, or two at the
most tried to tell him but couldn't;
and, finally I thought of you. You can
ease it, you know.


A great shadow fell on the chaplain;
for a moment he was stunned and
choked and his voice grew husky as he
made reply:


1t is sad errand; but none the less
it is my duty. Poor fellow! l can't
realize it. indeed l cannot. His voice
was so natural I'll be there presently;
and left alone, he threw himself upon
his knees to wrestle for strength in
prayer.


The atmosphere was filled with low
sighs from the strugglers with pain
and disease. Going softly up to the
couch at which he had stood before,
the chaplain gazed upon the face before
him. 1t looked as calm as that of
sleeping infant, but he did not sleep
Hearing a slight noise, his eyes flew
open and rested in some surprise on the
chaplain.


II felt as if I must see you again be-
fore retired, said the latter, striving
to steady his voice. Glow do you feel
now?"


80, better, 1 thank you, in fact al
most we'll. The pain is gone, and 1 fell
quite hopeful. 1 rather think the sur
geon does, though he said nothing"


Again that fearful swelling in the
chaplain's throat. How shall he tell
him of his danger-how prepare the
mind so calmly resting on almost GER
tainty2 the poor hopeful soul that
would never look with earthly eyes
upon the mother he SO longed for


Another moment and the young man
appeared TO be struck with some pecu-
liarity in the face or movements of the
chaplain. The large eyes sought his
with an intenseness that was painful,
and he strove to interpret that which
made the difference between this and his
former demeanor.


"Your cases weary you, chaplain, "
he said quietly, "you must have been
very faithful for it is past midnight


II was on the point of going to bed,
when 1 was called to prepare dying
man for his last hour" was the fearful
response of the chaplain.


"Indeed! what poor fellow goes next?"
rejoined the young man, with a mourn
full inquiry.


There was no answer. For the wealth
of worlds the chaplain would not have
spoken now. That tone so UNCONSCIOUS
of danger, that eye SO full of sympathy
Still strange silence. What did he