he wild commotion in her heart by
remembering that it was just and right for the Lord of the harvest to
gather his "choicest grains." Down on the lowlands by the river the
nurserymen were selecting their fairest trees, and transplanting them in
their orchards on the pleasant hills beyond the stream. Why, then,
should she complain if the kind Father had seen fit to do the same?

It was consoling to take from her bureau drawer, where her keepsakes
were stored, the letters which Paul had written, undo the black ribbon
which she had tied around the package, and read again and again that
which she almost knew by heart. What manly words were there: "Life is
worth nothing unless devoted to noble ends. I can see the millions yet
to come beckoning me to do my duty for their sake. What answer can I
give them if I falter?"

So read one of the letters. They were words which she could not forget.
They were written from the trenches before Vicksburg, when the prospects
of the country were dark and gloomy,--when craven men at home were
crying, "Peace! Peace! Let us have peace at any price!" forgetting that
there can be no reconcilement between right and wrong. Paul had
sacrificed everything--life itself--for the sake of those who were to
come after him,--for Truth and Justice. She thought of him as asleep
beneath the sod of the battle-field where he fell,--of all that was
mortal lying there, but of his soul as having passed up into heaven,
perhaps even then beholding her from the celestial sphere. "What answer
can I give to those who come after me?" The question haunted her through
the waning days and the lonely nights. What could she do? How listless
her life! of how little account! How feeble, forceless, and narrow all
her efforts! What sacrifices had she made? None. She had lived for
herself alone. Was this all of life? In the silent hours, when all
around were hushed in slumber, her longing soul, with far-reaching
sight, looked out upon the coming years, and beheld the opening
prospect,--a country saved, a nation redeemed, justice and truth
triumphant, and Peace, with her white wings, brooding over the land!
This through sacrifice of blood, of strength, of ease and comfort. To
withhold the sacrifice was to lose all. To her the coming millions were
beckoning as they had beckoned to him. With prayers of consecration she
gave herself to the country,--to go wherever duty called, to labor, to
endure hardship, and brave scenes which wo