oon as
you are restored, we will go to work together. Only do not idly mourn
now! I have had your brother's room put in order; we will take charge
of some wounded man and nurse him."

Martha looked wonderingly at her mother. How was such self-control
possible! That is the blessing which long and careful culture brings,
while it, at the same time, strengthens the moral sense. Her mother was
dressed with care; she looked as she did in more peaceful days, and
displayed no emotion, deeply as her heart was torn by the loss of her
dearly beloved son. She told me that a messenger had come after
bandages and to get help for the battle-field, and that her husband had
sent word by him that the young lieutenant had been the first officer
that had fallen. He had not been rash, but had moved forward at the
head of his men with steadfast courage, had broken the ranks of the
enemy, and, while crying, "The day is ours! the day is ours!" he had
fallen with a bullet in his heart.

Martha was now restored, and a half hour after our arrival we were on
our way to the town-hall. Her sister, who was engaged in cutting out
garments, came towards us, gave Martha her hand, and repressed the
rising tears. She spoke softly to Martha: she evidently begged her not
to give vent to her grief before those who were present. Martha
accompanied her quietly to the table, and helped to spread out the
linen.

The daughter of Councillor Reckingen, who was just budding into
womanhood, and who had hitherto been a stubborn, proud girl, lording it
over every one, sat among the workers and was in entire harmony with
them, while her father had cast aside his grief and joined his comrades
in the field. She was placed specially in Christiane's charge.

The children, who were making lint in the basement, were singing the
song of "The Good Comrade"--in the hall upstairs everything was still.
Orders were given quietly, and the women and maidens passed silently to
and fro. It seemed as if some one was lying dead in the adjoining room;
but, above all this affliction and sorrow, there was a spirit which had
never before shown itself among those present. All class distinctions
had ceased, for all were united in their sympathy for their fellow-men.

Why does this spirit of friendship, this unanimity, appear only in
times of trouble and sorrow; why not in every-day life?

I felt sure that this union of hearts would remain with us and beautify
our lives, and this though