e I do not feel at present free to reveal. The attending circumstances were so deeply pathetic, and hi

his violin! If there was anything his platoon boys admired more, even than himself, it was the music of his ever generous, ever delighting violin. Deep in so

profaned height of the music masters. Bach was his favorite. And when, with the mute, to soften the waves from unfriendly ea

e spell of his music I would drop anchor in the harbor of the fairest dream. Now, it would be a landscape the brush of his bow would paint

rown eyes, that were not the least attractive feature of his handso

picture tonig

ds Working in a Gas

the breeze. A yacht is just off shore; the sail, a creamy bit of color; at the tiller a chap, handso

ery thing I was th

yes, her pictures, for surely he had twenty of them. Then he narrated "the sweetest story ever told"; how wonderful she was, how ten

noblest in the boys, and my Lieutenant served his Battery and wrought deeds of valor to a degree all excelling and inspiring.

seemed to come from a heart utterly broken. He stood leaning against a caisson staring at the letter, his face deathly white. Instinctively I realized it all

s more than any man in the world, and always would, still, as she did not, could never, love him

him. It was the supreme hour and crisis of his life. If there were ever a time when he needed her love to sustain h

rary, never was he more attentive to Battery duties or considerate toward his men. Bravely would he laugh and jest and try to appear happy; but I knew it was all merely heroic ende

reads

uet hall

are fled, and

save he d

t enemy-observing plane the movement had evidently been noted, for it was not seven minutes later that a high explosive s

. "I am not afraid to die, Chaplain. It's my turn I guess. There is a letter here in my blouse pocket. I wrot

endearing title at the top of the page. It declared his deep, abiding love for her: a love so unselfish and complete as not wanting to ever, either directly or indirectly, mar her happiness. In

hen I finished reading. "If it is all righ

preference for my ministrations; and with all my soul I helped him make Acts of Faith, Hope, Charity, and perfect Co

y helped me carry his poor torn body to the shelter of a neighboring ravine. On the hillside we b

sacrifice. Some day, when the wounds of cruel war are healed, I may forget. And yet, reviewing it all in the light of the supernatural and the greater reward awaiting him beyond the stars, may we not believe that an all-wise, eve