ay the saint
will look at it--the saint who thundered awful warnings at me in the
little church at St. George's. But even that day there was something
gentler than the dreadful holiness of you. Do you remember how you
pleaded, begged as if of your father, for your brothers and sisters?
'Deal not with us according to our sins, neither reward us according to
our iniquities,' you said. Do you remember? As you said that to God, I
say it to you, I love you. I leave my fate at your mercy. But don't
forget that you yourself begged that, with your hands stretched out to
heaven, as I stretch my hands to you, Norman, Norman--'Deal not with me
according to my sins, neither reward me according to my iniquities.'"

The noises of a ship moving across a quiet ocean went on steadily. Many
feet tramped back and forth on the deck, and cheerful voices and
laughter floated through the skylight, and down below a man knelt in a
narrow cabin with his head buried in his arms, motionless.

CROWNED WITH GLORY AND HONOR

Mists blew about the mountains across the river, and over West Point
hung a raw fog. Some of the officers who stood with bared heads by the
heap of earth and the hole in the ground shivered a little. The young
Chaplain read, solemnly, the solemn and grand words of the service, and
the evenness of his voice was unnatural enough to show deep feeling. He
remembered how, a year before, he had seen the hero of this scene
playing football on just such a day, tumbling about and shouting, his
hair wild and matted and his face filled with fresh color. Such a mere
boy he was, concerned over the question as to where he could hide his
contraband dress boots, excited by an invitation to dine out Saturday
night. The dear young chap! There were tears in the Chaplain's eyes as
he thought of little courtesies to himself, of little generosities to
other cadets, of a manly and honest heart shown everywhere that
character may show in the guarded life of the nation's schoolboys.

The sympathetic, ringing voice stopped, and he watched the quick,
dreadful, necessary work of the men at the grave, and then his sad eyes
wandered pitifully over the rows of boyish faces where the cadets stood.
Just such a child as those, thought the Chaplain--himself but a few
years older--no history; no life, as we know life; no love, and what was
life without--you may see that the Chaplain was young; the poor boy was
taken from these quiet ways and sent direct