the hopes which cling to earth.

One day, as he was talking about his grandparents, and how much he
should have to tell them when he got home, he was asked, "But suppose,
Miller, that it was God's will for you not to get well, but to go to a
better world above, how would you feel?" The awful possibility flashed
upon him for the first time, and, bursting into tears, he exclaimed,
"Must I die, and never see grandpapa and grandmamma again?... I can die
for the country, but I do want to see them once more." After a little
while, with a maturity and strength of character far beyond his years,
he sweetly acquiesced in the will of the wise Disposer of our joys and
sorrows, and transferred his thoughts to eternal realities. He was
comforted by the thought that he should meet those he loved in the
heavenly home. "And perhaps they may be there now," he said, "waiting
for me." At another time, on being reminded that his best and most
loving Friend was always near him, he said that he wished that he loved
him better, and knew how to pray to him aright. "Can't you say, God be
merciful to me a sinner?" "O yes, but do you call that praying?" With
his thin, white hands meekly clasped upon his breast, he would lie for
hours repeating with his slowly moving lips this petition. God heard and
answered it A settled peace filled his soul, making those last few days
the beginning of immortal glory to him, as he awaited with triumphant
faith the hour of transition. To the end his patriotism glowed warmly;
he asked, the day before he died, that a little flag which was in the
tent might be put up where he could see it: "I would love to have that
dear flag the last thing that my eyes shall rest upon on earth."
Patiently he suffered until within a few hours of his death, when he
sank into a deep sleep, to awake no more here. As we gazed at his little
form in the coffin, with the flag he died for laid across his snowy
shroud, that impressive, mysterious "Why?" which is so often asked in
life, came to our thoughts. Why should one so pure and innocent be
called to offer his young life in a struggle for which he was in no
manner responsible? Eternity will unfold all the hidden reasons; but
cannot we even now catch a glimpse of them, remembering that no devotion
is too precious a sacrifice for the principles of truth and liberty, and
that the longest life could not be crowned with loftier praise than the
death of a child-patriot? A wreath of white rose-