curled upward from the chimney. A
vague presentiment of evil weighed upon his heart. Hastening to dispel
the dark and chilling fears that came thick upon him, he hurried down
the slope, and soon passed through the garden and stood within the
cottage. He called aloud--no voice responded to his cry. He rushed
into the little room, which served at once for kitchen and parlor. It
was empty--no fire burned upon the hearth. The humble furniture was in
strange disarray. The casement, which looked out upon the garden was
shattered. The walls and floor were charred and blackened with smoke,
as if the house had taken fire and been saved with difficulty. Pierre
sprang up stairs. In neither of the chambers could he find the loved
ones whom he sought--only the same scene of confusion and desolation.
Turning in dismay from the spectacle, he rushed out of the cottage to
make his way to the nearest neighbors, and inquire into this appalling
mystery. As he hurried along--his brain whirling, his footsteps
uncertain and unsteady--he stumbled against an aged man of venerable
appearance, who was coming in the opposite direction. The young
soldier halted, and touching his cap, begged pardon for his
involuntary rudeness.

"My poor Pierre," said the old man, "I know too well the cause of your
forgetfulness."

The soldier looked up and recognized the familiar and benevolent
features of the good priest of the village, his old tutor and pastor.

"Father," he said, pointing to the cottage, "you have been there--you
know all--tell me--where are they?"

The old man's eyes filled with tears, as he shook his head, and laid
his hand kindly on the young man's shoulder.

"Pierre," said he, "you have read 'whom the Lord loveth he
chasteneth?'"

The soldier bowed his head.

"Pierre," exclaimed the good priest, "let us sit down on this bank.
You are a good and brave boy. You can face danger, and I have sought
to furnish you weapons to wage war against sorrow and trial."

"You have been a father to me, sir," replied the young soldier,
complying with the invitation of his pastor, and taking a seat beside
him. "I will endeavor to listen calmly to all you have to communicate.
Where are my mother and sister?"

"Pierre," said the old man, "arm yourself with all your fortitude. You
will never see your mother more till you meet her in that happier
world, where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at
rest."

Pierre groaned deeply, and cove