.

WEDNESDAY, June 1. Come by Michael Wine's; dine with him; then come
across the mountain home.

From this time to the memorable day of his martyrdom there is nothing
in the Diary demanding special notice. Notice has already been taken
of his calling at George Cowger's on the South Fork in Pendleton
County, West Virginia, on his way home from this his last journey. At
Mr. Cowger's, while at the dinner table, he said: "I am threatened;
they may take my life; but I do not fear them; they can only kill my
body." This they accomplished.

WEDNESDAY, June 15, 1864. He went to a blacksmith's shop a few miles
away from home; had Nell shod; and on his return was killed by, it is
supposed, some concealed person or persons on a ridge of timber land a
few miles away from home. Some account of his funeral has already been
given in the introduction to this work. His body, when discovered,
showed that it had been pierced by several bullets. But a smile rested
on his face. The writer's own eyes witnessed this. It may be that this
smile was the reflection of the joy that thrilled his soul as he
stepped out of his broken tenement of clay into the presence and light
of his Redeemer. Stephen's living face was as the face of an angel.
Brother Kline's dead face was the face of a saint--no, not the face of
a saint, but the face of the earthly casket in which a saint had
lived, and labored, and rejoiced; and out of which he stepped into the
glories of the eternal world. Amen!

_He Died at His Post._

[Said to have been composed by Brother Kline on the death of Joseph
Miller, who died while on a visit to Ohio.]

Away from his home and the friends of his youth
He hasted, the herald of mercy and truth,
For the love of his Lord and to seek for the lost
Soon, alas! was his fall, but he died at his post.

The stranger's eye wept that in life's brightest bloom
One gifted so highly should sink to the tomb;
For in order he led in the van of his host,
And he fell like a soldier, he died at his post.

He wept not himself that his warfare was done,
The battle was fought and the victory won,
But he whispered of those whom his heart clung to most,
"Tell my Brethren for me that I died at my post."

He asked not a stone to be sculptured with verse;
He asked not that fame should his merits rehearse;
But he asked as a boon when he gave up the ghost,
That his Brethren might know that he died at his post.

Vict