snow the body of him they loved, in the hope of restoring vitality. At length, after the severer measures of blistering and bleeding had been resorted to, consciousness returned. He was spared for a nobler end, to fulfil his own choice — "As a soldier I will die!"
Three mails arrived in England, without any tidings of him — a time, it need scarcely be said, of heart-sickening suspense to those who loved him; it was like life from the dead when the tidings of his recovery came, in his own hand-writing. A serious illness had followed the accident. During its continuance the kindest attentions were lavished on him both by officers and men, and he was nursed with devoted tenderness by Lieutenant Douglas MacGregor, with whom of late his friendship had been ripening into an affection almost brotherly.
With reference to his preservation, he thus writes after a short account of the circumstances:
"January 8th, 1855.
"How I thank God that no one but myself slept in my tent that night; and surely I have cause to praise Him for His goodness in snatching me from the jaws of death. My first impulse, after raising my heart in gratitude to that God who had preserved me, was to see whether my little picture was safe at my heart; it was there. I took a long, long look at the sweet face of her, whose love had made summer of my gloomy winter; and thanked God again for having spared my life.
"January 12th, — I have just returned from a night in the trenches, having come off the sick list yesterday morning. Last Sunday I was unable to leave my tent, but I had a happy communion with Jesus in my solitude, and derived much pleasure from the fourteenth and fifteenth of St. John. How true is the
