, leaves so many blanks. I keep,
however, throughout all changes and chances, the faculty of gleaning to
right and left some fallen grain. Of course, as I leave out the future,
I say nothing of my wish to be introduced to him in happier times--that
is out of our department just now.

I have written to Madame L. It is the last blow for her. The fate of
some of us is as it were a medal on which are struck the image and
superscription of sorrow. Adversity has worked so well that there is no
room for any symbol of joy. But I think that this dedication of a life
to grief is not unaccompanied by a secret compensation in the conviction
that misfortune is at last complete; it is something to reach the
high-water mark of the waters of sorrow. The fate of such sufferers
seems to me to be an outpost showing others whence tribulation
approaches.

Day by day a new crop is raised in the little military burial-ground
here. And, over all, the triumphant spring.

_March 20._

Our holiday is coming to an end in sweetness, while all is tumult and
carnage not far off. I think the regiment has had a long march.

_March 20._

DEAR BELOVED MOTHER,--After so many graces granted me, I ought to have
more confidence, and I intend to do my best to give myself wholly into
the hands of God; but these are hard times. I have just heard of the
death, among many others, of the friend whose bed I shared in our
billet. He had just been appointed Second Lieutenant. Mother dear: Love.
That is the only human feeling we may cherish now.

_March 21._

DEAR GRANDMOTHER,--As the day of trial draws near I send you all my
love. I can do no more. We are probably called upon to make such a
sacrifice as forbids us to dwell upon our ties. Let us pray that the
certitude of Goodness and Beauty may not fail us when we suffer.

_March 21, Sunday, with
lovely sunshine._

DEAR BELOVED MOTHER,--I think that we may be kept here one day more, and
that we shall leave on Tuesday. I don't know where I shall rejoin my
battalion, or in what state I shall find it, for the action seems to be
violent and long. Rumours are very contradictory as to our gains. But
all agree as to the large number of casualties. We can hear a tremendous
cannonade, and the good weather no doubt induces the command on both
sides to move.

I should have wished to say many things about the noble Nature that
surrounds us with its glory, but my thoughts are gone on in advance,
there wher