pen their hearts to all the little sorrows and
woes of infant life; to teach confidence and to feed hope; to train up
the creeping tendrils of young desire, and not to suffer them to lie
straggling and tangled on the earth,--what a happier destiny would fall
to the lot of many whose misfortunes in late life date from the crushed
spirit of childhood!

My mother I--I thought of her as she would bend oyer me at night, her
last kiss pressed on my brow,--the healing balm of some sorrow for which
my sobs were still breaking,--her pale, worn cheek, her white dress, her
hand so bloodless and transparent, the very emblem of her malady. The
tears started to my eyes and rolled heavily along my cheek, my chest
heaved, and my heart beat till I could hear it. At this moment a slight
rustle stirred the leaves: I listened, for the night was calm and still;
not a breeze moved. Again I heard it close beside the window, on the
little terrace which ran along the building, and occupied the narrow
space beside the edge of the rock. Before I could imagine what it meant,
a figure in white glided from the shade of the trees and approached
the window. So excited was my mind, so wrought up my imagination by the
circumstances of my dream and the thoughts that followed, that I cried
out, in a voice of ecstasy, "My mother!" Suddenly the apparition stood
still, and then as rapidly retreated, and was lost to view in the dark
foliage. Maddened with intense excitement, I sprang from the window, and
leaped out on the terrace. I called aloud; I ran about wildly, unmindful
of the fearful precipice that yawned beside me. I searched every bush,
I crept beneath each tree, but nothing could I detect. The cold
perspiration poured down my face; my limbs trembled with a strange dread
of I knew not what. I felt as if madness was creeping over me, and I
struggled with the thought and tried to calm my troubled brain. Wearied
and faint, I gave up the pursuit at last, and, throwing myself on my
bed, I sank exhausted into the heavy slumber which only tired nature
knows.

"The Sous-Lieutenant Burke," said a gruff voice, awakening me suddenly
from my sleep, while by the light of a lantern he held in his hand I
recognized the figure of an orderly sergeant in full equipment.

"Yes. What then?" said I, in some amazement at the summons.

"This is the order of march, sir, for the invalid detachment under your
command."

"How so? I have no orders."

"They are here, sir.