us a gift,--no, not one. The
dear boy only slept a minute, just one little minute, at his post; I
know that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and
reliable he was! I know he only fell asleep one little second;--he was
so young, and not strong, that boy of mine! Why, he was as tall as I,
and only eighteen! and now they shoot him because he was found asleep
when doing sentinel duty! Twenty-four hours, the telegram said,--only
twenty-four hours. Where is Bennie now?"

"We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. Allan, soothingly.

"Yes, yes; let us hope; God is very merciful!"

"'I should be ashamed, father!' Bennie said, 'when I am a man, to think
I never used this great right arm,'--and he held it out so proudly
before me,--'for my country, when it needed it! Palsy it rather than
keep it at the plow!'

"'Go then, go, my boy,' I said, 'and God keep you!' God has kept him, I
think, Mr. Allan!" and the farmer repeated these last words slowly, as
if, in spite of his reason, his heart doubted them.

"Like the apple of His eye, Mr. Owen, doubt it not!"

Blossom sat near them listening, with blanched cheek. She had not shed a
tear. Her anxiety had been so concealed that no one had noticed it. She
had occupied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now she
answered a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to receive from a
neighbor's hand a letter. "It is from him," was all she said.

It was like a message from the dead! Mr. Owen took the letter, but could
not break the envelope, on account of his trembling fingers, and held it
toward Mr. Allan, with the helplessness of a child.

The minister opened it, and read as follows:

"DEAR FATHER:--When this reaches you, I shall be in eternity. At first,
it seemed awful to me; but I have thought about it so much now, that it
has no terror. They say they will not bind me, nor blind me; but that I
may meet my death like a man. I thought, father, it might have been on
the battle-field, for my country, and that, when I fell, it would be
fighting gloriously; but to be shot down like a dog for nearly
betraying it,--to die for neglect of duty! O father, I wonder the very
thought does not kill me! But I shall not disgrace you. I am going to
write you all about it; and when I am gone, you may tell my comrades. I
cannot now.

"You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would look after her boy;
and, when he fell sick, I did all I could for him. He wa