ster to
the army,--how the lines were broken, how the cannon were lost, how Paul
was shot through the breast, how, had it not been for General Thomas, it
would have been a day of utter ruin. Father Surplice went up to the
little old house to break the sad tidings to Paul's mother, for he could
best give comfort and consolation in time of affliction.

"I have sad news," he said. She saw it in his face, even before he
spoke, and knew that something terrible had happened. "A great battle
has been fought, and God has seen fit that your son should die for his
country."

She made no outcry, but the tears glistened in her eyes. She wiped them
away, and calmly replied: "I gave him freely to the country and to God.
I know that he was a dutiful, affectionate son. I am not sorry that I
let him go." Then with clasped hands she looked upward, through her
blinding tears, and thanked God that Paul had been faithful, honest,
true, and good.

The neighbors came in to comfort her, but were surprised to find her so
calm, and to hear her say, "It is well."

It was a gloomy day in New Hope,--in the stores and shops, and in the
school-house, for the children affectionately remembered their old
teacher. When the sexton tolled the bell, they bowed their heads and
wept bitter tears. Mr. Chrome laid down his paint-brush and sat with
folded hands, saying, "I can't work." Colonel Dare dashed a tear from
his eye, and said, "So slavery takes our noblest and best." He walked
down to the little old house and said to Mrs. Parker, "You never shall
want while I have a cent left." Judge Adams came, and with much emotion
asked, "What can I do for you?"

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in
green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters," she replied, so
calmly that the Judge felt that she was the strong one and he the weak.

When Azalia heard the news the rose-bloom faded from her cheeks and her
heart stood still. In imagination she saw Paul lying on the ground, with
blood flowing from his side, enduring dreadful agony, while waiting the
coming of death. She could hardly think of him as gone, never to return,
yet the church-bell was tolling mournfully, gone, gone, gone! She
clasped her hands upon her heart to keep it from bursting.

"Be comforted, my child. He has gone to a better world than this," said
her mother, sympathizing in her sorrow.

Daphne came in, and bathed Azalia's burning brow, kissed her te