t doubt. My
boy! it is a solemn thing to feel that death may be drawing near. But I
am not afraid. I think I have no cause to be afraid."

He raised himself up and looked into the boy's face with a smile, as he
repeated:

"David--I have no cause to fear--since Jesus died."

"No, papa," said David, faintly. "But mamma--and--all of us."

"Yes, it will be sad to leave you, and it will be sad for you to be
left. But I am not afraid. `Leave thy fatherless children; I will
preserve them alive, and let thy widow trust in me.' He has said it,
and He will bring it to pass. The promise is more to me, to-night, than
untold wealth could be. And Davie, I leave them to your care. You must
take my place with them, and comfort your mother, and care for your
brothers and sisters. And David you must be a better soldier than I
have ever been."

David threw himself forward with a cry.

"Oh papa! how can I? how can I? I am afraid, and I do not even know
that my name is enrolled, and that is the very first--"

"My boy! But you may know. Have you ever given yourself to our great
leader? Have you asked him to enrol your name? Ask Him now. Do not I
love you? His love is greater far than mine!"

There had been moments during that day when the Lord had seemed very far
away from His servant, but he felt Him to be very near Him now, as he
poured out his heart in prayer for his son. He did not use many words,
and they were faintly and feebly uttered, but who shall doubt but they
reached the ear of the Lord waiting to hear and answer. But they
brought no comfort to David that night. Indeed he hardly heard them.
There was only room in his heart for one thought. "Death may be drawing
near!" his father had said, and beyond that he could not look. It was
too terrible to believe. He would not believe it. He would not have it
so.

By and by when there came the sound of footsteps on the stairs, he
slipped unseen out of the room, and then out of the house, and seeking
some place where he might be alone, he went up into the loft above old
Don's crib, and lay down upon the hay, and wept and sobbed his heart out
there. He prayed, too, asking again for the blessing which his father
had asked for him; and for his father's life. He prayed earnestly, with
strong crying and tears; but in his heart he knew that he cared more for
his father's life and health than for the better blessing, and though he
wept all his tears out, he ar