Year: 1864

have been his wife. But he is dead, and
if should loose you also, oh! whom have
l left?"


"Never fear, mother. All who fight
do not fall. | shall come back to you, and
you shall sit when you are old under my
vine and fig tree and tell your grandchil-
dren stories of how their father helped to
save the country


"Heaven grant it," she whispered, try
ing to be brave, and smile as he left her
to tell the boys of the Twenty-frst that
he was ready to accept the commission
of Lieutenant that had been offered him.


1t was proud day when he marched
away with his men, Even his mother, as
she watched him from the window, and
met the fearless eyes which sostened into
glance of love as they saw her face, felt
a thrill of exultation, pride in her brave
son, which, for the time, kept her tears
back. But the tears came when she heard
no longer the martial music that cheered
him on-when the MONDAY silence fell
around her, and the MONDAY light, gay,
glaring, pitiless, looked in upon her. She
| shut her window blinds end drew down
her curtains; for the bright day seemed
hooking her. Mute with sorrow, she sank
upon her knees, as if there were prayer
in the very attitude, and then, l think,
Heaven comforted her To her soul, at
last, came peace.


But the hardest trial came afterward
As the slow days went on, and she could
not hear her boys gay voice making the
house CHEEKY, could catch no echo OF
laughter, no gleam of sunshine from his
face, all her faith in heaven, all her be-
lief that she had done right could not ease
her longing and heartache.


You know how it Is when friend dies
and you believe they nave gone home to
happiness beside which the brightest hours
OF earth fade iuto nothing, If you could
you would not take the responsibility of
of calling them back to the sphere of
doubt and waiting anl yet,


The least touch OF the hands Il the morning
you ke;t iav & night: ,


Their least step or the stairs still throbs


through you, If ever so light:


Their least gift which they left to your child


hood in long years ago,


Is now turned from a toy to o relic, and @aZed
II through tears


And if Charley Wayne had been dead
his mother would hardly have felt her
solitude deeper than she felt it for the first
few weeks after he went away. But as
time passed on she grew more accustomed
to her loneliness, aud his letters began to
give her comfort He was in an engage
ment now and then, and came through
safely. She began to hope she should see
him again.


Before 1862 was over she heard of his
promotion-Captain Charley ROW; she
had grown strong enougJ to feel glad and
proud when she heard of it. She wrote
him cheerful letter Of praise and con-
! graduation, which he put next his heart
and wore more proudly than his ne'g hon
ors. He had never rknown-would he ever
know-a dearer love? His mother was
still for him first among women.


One day, early in March, he wrote her
how beautiful the Virginia spring was !;
how the wild bright blossoms were opening
soft eyes to a softer sky, and the birds
were singing q song of peace, peace. when
for man there was no peace. While she
was reading his letter other tidings came
long dispatch from one who knew and
loved her boy; the story of an action such
as in these days of great battles we scarce
ly think of, where only few companies
we're engaged, bat in which Charley had
fallen, severely wounded-fallen as she
would be proud 10 hear, while bravely
cheering on his men. He was wounded
in arm and leg, but was safely in the hos
pital, and, they hoped, would do well.


r. =, ct, h. .%r 4,
weakest and most loving type of women
in the hour which try mems souls. l do
not think Holmes, used to the horrors of
the dissecting room, made ready one whit
more coolly to start on his "search for the
Captain, than she on hers for Captain
Charley. think she forgot nothing that
she could need, and l do not believe tear
fell till all her preparations were over, and
she sat in the cars on her way to him.
What if her tears did fall then silent and
bitter, behind her thick veil ~? There
would be no stain Of them when he saw
her face, which must be cheerful for his
sake.


How the time went she never knew till
she stood beside his bed-saw him white
and weak, with the impress of terrible
pain on his face-but saw him alive, in
this world.


"How you must have hurried, mother,
to get here so soon! I did not expect
you yet, but am glad you are here. They
will cut my arm off tomorrow, They
can't save it. Sometimes such an opera
ton proves fatal. 1 don't think it will in
my case. I keep up good heart but il
1 should die, / should like to touch your
hand and see your face the last thing in
this world. First and last there's nothing
like mother.


All that night she sat by him. If she
was tired with her journey she did no!
know it. She only knew that tonight be
was with her-to-morrow might be flow