Slowly and sadly the poor children wandered around; for their sorrow
pressed like a weight upon them. They would come softly to his
bedside, smooth his golden hair, and kiss his forehead, and hope he
would yet get well; then seeing his pallid face, and little wasted
hands lying so still outside of the white bedspread, they would go
hastily away, and shed bitter, bitter tears; vainly struggling to
repress them, lest he should hear and be grieved.

The joyous little birds still sang in the trees; the majestic
Highlands still rose in the blue air; and the splendid sunset clouds
still covered their summits with a glory; the glittering water was
beautiful as ever. The drums beat to reveille, and crowds of gay
people walked about the parade-ground.

And Charley was dying.

Even now, the loving guardian angels were waiting on the other side of
the dark valley, to conduct this summer blossom to his heavenly home.
Myriads of little children were tuning their golden harps, to greet
his purified spirit with a hymn of joyful welcome, and Jesus was
saying, "Come."

And now, his last day on earth was passing--lovely and serene.
Charley's little bed had been moved in the afternoon, close to the
open window, where he could see the white sails gliding by on the
smooth silvery water. A peace from within, not of this world,
illuminated his sweet face. He had sent for all his brothers and
sisters, and with a faint voice, and at broken intervals, was talking
to them, and giving to each one some little trifle belonging to him;
and one by one, convulsed with sobs, they would rush from the
room--and after a painful struggle would return, with their tears
forced back; their loving gaze fastened upon him, whom in a few short
hours they would see no more.

When the good doctor entered, and saw that the end was so near, his
features worked painfully, and covering his face with his hands, in
another moment the great scalding tears trickled through. This brave
man, in the midst of battle, with the death strokes falling right and
left, and the great cannons booming destruction before him, had walked
without fear or flinching among the dead and wounded, giving help and
succor; but now, loving and tender-hearted as he was brave, he had
covered his face, and was weeping like a child.

"Tell the doctor not to cry," whispered the dying boy. "I am going
home to Jesus. I am going _now_," he said, with a gasping sigh. "Kiss
me, mother. Oh! how I th