LITMIR.BIZ

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letter was filled chiefly with an account of the writer's religious experience. Since his last visit to the Oaks he had been constantly rejoicing in the love of Christ, and now, expecting, as he did, to fall in the coming battle, death had no terrors for him. And he owed this, he said, in great measure to the influence of his brother Horace and Elsie, especially to the beautiful consistency of her Christian life through all the years he had known her.

      Through all her grief and sadness, what joy and thankfulness stirred in her breast at that thought. Very humble and unworthy she felt; but oh, what gladness to learn that her Master had thus honored her as an instrument in His hands.

      The door opened softly, and her three little ones came quietly in and gathered about her. They had been taught thoughtfulness for others: Uncle Harold was ill, and they would not disturb him.

      Leaning confidingly on her lap, lifting loving, trustful eyes to her face, "Mamma," they said, low and softly, "we have had our supper; will you come with us now?"

      "Yes, dear, presently."

      "Mamma," whispered little Elsie, with a wistful, tender gaze into the soft sweet eyes still swimming in tears, "dear mamma, something has made you sorry. What can I do to comfort you?"

      "Love me, darling, and be good; you are mamma's precious little comforter. See dears," and she held the photograph so that all could have a view, "it is dear Uncle Walter in his soldier dress." A big tear rolled down her cheek.

      "Mamma," Elsie said quickly, "how good he looks! and he is so happy where Jesus is."

      "Yes, daughter, we need shed no tears for him."

      "Dear Uncle Walter," "Poor Uncle Walter!" the other two were saying.

      "There, papa has finished reading; go now and bid good-night to him and Uncle Harold," their mother said; and they hastened to obey.

      They climbed their father's knees and hung about his neck with the most confiding affection, while he caressed them over and over again, Harold looking on with glistening eyes.

      "Now some dood fun, papa: toss Vi up in oo arms," said the little one, expecting the usual game of romps.

      "Not to-night, pet; some other time. Another sweet kiss for papa, and now one for Uncle Harold."

      "After four years of camp, prison, and hospital life, it is a very pleasant change to be among the children," Harold said, as the door closed upon Elsie and her little flock.

      "I feared their noise and perpetual motion might disturb you," Mr. Travilla answered.

      "Not at all; yours are not boisterous, and their pretty ways are very winning."

      Aunt Chloe and Dinah were in waiting, and soon had the three small figures robed each in its white night-dress.

      Then mamma—seated upon a sofa with little Violet on her lap, the other two, one on each side—was quite at their disposal for the next half hour or so; ready to listen or to talk; her sweet sympathy and tender love encouraging them to open all their young hearts to her, telling her of any little joy or sorrow, trouble, vexation, or perplexity.

      "Well, darlings, have you remembered your verses and our little talk about them this morning?" the mother asked. "Elsie may speak first, because she is the eldest."

      "Mamma, I have thought of them many times," answered the sweet child voice; "we had a nice, nice walk with papa this morning, and the little birds, the brook, and the trees, and the pretty flowers and the beautiful blue sky all seemed to say to me, 'God is love.' Then mamma, once I was tempted to be naughty, and I said in my heart, 'Lord, help me,' and Jesus heard me."

      "What was it, dear?"

      "We had a little tea party, mamma, with our cousins, out under the trees, and there was pie and very rich cake——"

      "And 'serves," put in Eddie.

      "Yes, mamma, and preserves too, and they looked so good, and I wanted some, but I remembered that you and papa don't let us eat those things because they would make us sick. So I said, 'Lord, help me'; and then I felt so glad and happy, thinking how Jesus loves me."

      "My darling! He does, indeed," the mother said, with a gentle kiss.

      "And Eddie was good, and said, 'No, thank you; mamma and papa don't let us eat 'serves and pie.'"

      "Mamma's dear boy," and her hand passed softly over the curly head resting on her shoulder.

      "Mamma, I love you; I love you so much," he said, hugging her tight; "and dear papa, too; and Jesus. Mamma, I wanted to be naughty once to-day when one o' zese cousins took away my own new whip that papa buyed for me; but I remembered I mustn't be selfish and cross, and I said my little prayers jus' in my heart, mamma—and Jesus did help me to be good."

      "Yes, my dear son, and He will always help you when you ask Him. And now, what has Vi to tell mamma?"

      "Vi naughty girl one time, mamma: ky 'cause she didn't want mammy wash face and brush curls. Vi solly now;" and the golden head dropped upon mamma's breast.

      "Mamma's dear baby must try and be patient; mamma is sure she will, and Jesus will help her if she asks Him, and forgive her, if she is sorry for being naughty," the mother said, with a tender caress. "Now let us sing, 'Jesus loves me.'"

      The child voices blended very sweetly with the mother's as they sang in concert; then she told them a Bible story, heard each little prayer, saw them laid in their beds, gave each a tender good-night kiss, and left them to their rest.

      Passing into her dressing-room, she found her husband there, pacing thoughtfully to and fro. At sight of her a smile irradiated his whole countenance, while his arms opened wide to receive her.

      "My dear, dear husband!" she said, laying her head on his shoulder, while he folded her to his heart, "how bravely you bear trials; how patient and cheerful you always are under all circumstances."

      "Not more so than my little wife; we have heard much saddening news to-day, love; but most of it such as to make us weep for our friends and neighbors rather than for ourselves."

      "That is true; our losses are slight, very slight, compared with those of multitudes of others; and yet it must sadden your heart to know that your dear old home is in ruins."

      "Yes, wife, it does; but I were an ungrateful wretch to murmur and repine, had I lost everything but you and our four treasures in yonder room: but you are all spared to me, and I am by no means penniless yet."

      "Very far from it, my own noble husband," she answered, with a look of proud, loving admiration; "for all I have is yours as much as mine."

      "Thanks, dearest; I am not too proud to accept your assistance, and we will build up the old home and make it lovelier than ever, for ourselves and for our children; what a pleasant work it will be to make it as nearly as possible an earthly paradise for them."

      "Yes," she said, smiling brightly; "the cloud has a silver lining."

      "As all our clouds have, dearest."

      "Yes; for 'we know that all things work together for good to them that love God!' But oh, Edward, what an awful end was Jackson's. I shudder to think of it? and yet—oh, I fear it is not right—but I cannot help feeling it a relief to know that he is dead. Even in Europe, I could not divest myself of the fear that he might turn up unexpectedly, and attempt the lives of my dear ones."

      "It is a relief to me also, and not wrong, I think, to feel it so; for we do not rejoice in his destruction, but would have saved him, if we could. Has not the news of Walter comforted you in some measure?"

      "Yes, oh yes; the dear, dear fellow! You have not seen this," she added, taking the photograph from her pocket.

      "No; it is a striking likeness, and you will value it highly."

      "Indeed I shall. Ah, how strange it will be to go home and not find him there."

      Chapter Twenty-Ninth

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