ull of pathetic interest
to see that group which gathered from miles around. They had come to
break bread with each other, relate their experiences, and tell of their
hopes of heaven. In that meeting were remnants of broken
families--mothers who had been separated from their children before the
war, husbands who had not met their wives for years. After the bread had
been distributed and the handshaking was nearly over, Robert raised the
hymn which Iola had sung for him when he was recovering from his wounds,
and Iola, with her clear, sweet tones, caught up the words and joined
him in the strain. When the hymn was finished a dear old mother rose
from her seat. Her voice was quite strong. With still a lingering light
and fire in her eye, she said:--

"I rise, bredren an' sisters, to say I'm on my solemn march to glory."

"Amen!" "Glory!" came from a number of voices.

"I'se had my trials an' temptations, my ups an' downs; but I feels I'll
soon be in one ob de many mansions. If it hadn't been for dat hope I
'spects I would have broken down long ago. I'se bin through de deep
waters, but dey didn't overflow me; I'se bin in de fire, but de smell ob
it isn't on my garments. Bredren an' sisters, it war a drefful time when
I war tored away from my pore little chillen."

"Dat's so!" exclaimed a chorus of voices. Some of her hearers moaned,
others rocked to and fro, as thoughts of similar scenes in their own
lives arose before them.

"When my little girl," continued the speaker, "took hole ob my dress an'
begged me ter let her go wid me, an' I couldn't do it, it mos' broke my
heart. I had a little boy, an' wen my mistus sole me she kep' him. She
carried on a boardin' house. Many's the time I hab stole out at night
an' seen dat chile an' sleep'd wid him in my arms tell mos' day. Bimeby
de people I libed wid got hard up fer money, an' dey sole me one way an'
my pore little gal de oder; an' I neber laid my eyes on my pore chillen
sence den. But, honeys, let de wind blow high or low, I 'spects to
outwedder de storm an' anchor by'm bye in bright glory. But I'se bin a
prayin' fer one thing, an' I beliebs I'll git it; an' dat is dat I may
see my chillen 'fore I die. Pray fer me dat I may hole out an' hole on,
an' neber make a shipwrack ob faith, an' at las' fine my way from earth
to glory."

Having finished her speech, she sat down and wiped away the tears that
flowed all the more copiously as she remembered her lost children. When