and I got cut off from our boys. I think I must have lost my
head, for I forgot which way they went."

"Who is Bert?" asked Roberta.

"Bert was my brother, and the best boy that ever lived. Curse them!" he
cried, shaking his clenched fist; "curse the Yankees. What right have they
on Kentucky soil, anyhow?"

"O, don't curse them," said the child; "my papa is a Yankee."

"Is he?" He stopped short and looked at her with a kind of pity. "I am
sorry for you, that's all; sorry from my heart. I'd rather be a negro
trader."

"I'm sorry too," said Roberta. There was a droop about the corners of her
mouth. "But don't you worry about your brother. Mam' Sarah and me will
find him and do all we can for him."

"Will you?" said the hoy eagerly; "will you, really? O! that will be too
kind for any thing. I can never forget it, never."

"But how am I to know him? Is he like you?"

"Yes, he is like me; we were twins; but ten million times better looking.
He looked like an angel, as he is, as he is."

Great throes convulsed his chest in his efforts to control himself.

"I don't want to be a baby, but I was never away from Bert a day in my
life. Say, I can tell you how to know him. He has a picture of mother and
a Testament in his pocket, with his name written on the fly-leaf, 'Albert
Kurl.'"

"Well, we will find him," said Roberta.

There was a whispered consultation between the three, Mam' Sarah, Roberta
and the soldier. It seemed entirely satisfactory. And then Mam' Sarah told
Roberta they must hurry home on account of her mammy. "We kin cum back,
honey, en find him."

And come back they did. They found him and washed the blood away from the
poor mangled features, straightening out the twisted limbs as well as they
could. Roberta took charge of the little pocket Bible with his name
written on the fly-leaf, and the picture of his mother, such a stately,
beautiful lady. Albert Kurl's body was not the only one they looked for.
Mam' Sarah's tears fell like rain, as she went from one to another
searching for curly-haired Mars Charley, the little boy she nursed. She
would have known him, she was sure, no matter how he looked. But, thank
God, he was not there. She remembered so well the morning he rode off on
his prancing horse, with the bands playing Dixie.

"Charlie," called Aunt Betsy, "take this Bible with you."

"O Auntie," laughed the merry young fellow, "I can't, but I'll promise to
say, 'Now I lay me down to sleep' ev