feebly, taking the cliaplain's hand; 'the bitterness is over now, and I feel willing to die. Tell my mother'—he paused, gave one sob, dry, and full of the last anguish of earth—'tell her how I longed to see her ; but if God will permit me I will be near her. Tell her to comfort all who loved me; to say that I thought of them all. Tell my father that I am glad that he gave his consent. Tell my minister, by word or letter, that I thought of him, and that I thank him for all his counsels. Tell him I find that Christ will not desert the passing soul, and that I wish him to give my testimony to the living, that nothing is of 'real worth but the religion of Jesus; and now, will you pray with me?' With swelling emotion and tender tones the chaplain besought God's grace and presence; then, restraining his sobs, he bowed down and pressed upon the beautiful brow, already chilled with the breath of the coming angel, twice, thrice, a fervent kiss. They might have been as tokens from the father and mother, as well as for himself
"So thought, perhaps, the dying soldier, for a heavenly smile touched his face with new beauty, as he said, 'Thank you; I won't trouble you any longer. You are wearied out ; go to your rest.' 'The Lord God be with you!' was the firm response. 'Amen,' trembled from the fast whitening lips. Another hour passed, still the chaplain did not go to rest, but retired to an adjoining room ; he was about to return to the bedside of the dying
