to pray for him. By un by de young man begin to pray
hisself, and den he smiled, and den, oh, I neber can forget how Hannar
Amander clapped her hands and shouted 'Now I know he's numbered wid de
army ob de Lor'! kase he smiles.' Dat was his first smile; but I can
tell you, gemmen, it grew brighter and brighter, and by un by his face
was all smiles, and he died saying he'd meet his moder and all ob us in
Hebben, and praising de bressed Lor'!"

The old man wiped his eyes, and there was a brief pause, none caring
even in that rough, hastily collected crowd to break the silence that
followed his plain and pathetic statement.

"But how did you get the sword?" at last inquired one.

"Before he died he said he was sorry he could not pay us for our
kindness," resumed the old man. "Hannar Amander said dat shouldn't
trouble him, our pay would be entered up in our 'ternal count.

"And den he gab me dis sword and said I should keep it and sell it, and
dat would bring me suffin'. And he gab Susan Matildar his penknife. De
Secesh am 'quiring about de sword. I'd like to keep it, to mind de young
man by, but we've all got him here," said the old man, pointing to his
heart. "I'd sooner gib it to you boys dan sell it to de Rebels, but de
Sargeant yer was good enough to pay me suffin for it, and den I cant
forget dat good young man, I see his grave every day. We buried him at
de foot ob our little lot, and Susan Matildar keeps flowers on his grave
all day long. Her missus found out he was from de Norf and was sorry
'fore he died he had been a Rebel, and she told Susan Matildar she
wouldn't hab buried him dere. But Hannar Amander said dat if all de
Rebels got into glory so nice dey'd do well; and de sooner dey are dere
de better for us all, dis ole man say."

This last brought a smile to the crowd, and a collection was taken up
for the old man.

"Bress you, gemmen! bress you! Served my Master forty-five years and hab
nuffin to show for it. Our little patch Hannar Amander got, but I tries
to sarve de Lor at de same time, and dere is a better 'count kept ob dat
in a place where old Master dead and gone now pas' twenty years, will
nebber hab a chance ob getting at de books."

The old man had greatly won upon his hearers, when the bugle called them
to their posts.

Our corps from this place took the road to White Plains, near which
little village they encamped in a wood for two nights and a day, while a
snow-storm whitened the fields