be sentry, and I would take his place; but I was too tired, father. I could not have kept awake if a gun had been pointed at my head; but I did not know it until—well, until it was too late."

6. "God be thanked!" interrupted Mr. Owen, reverently. "I knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly at his post."

"They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve, — given to me by circumstances,—' time to write to you,' our good Colonel says. Forgive him, father, he only does his duty; he would gladly save me if he could: and do not lay my death up against Jemmie. The poor boy is brokenhearted, and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let him die in my stead.

7. "I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Comfort them, father! Tell them I die as a brave boy should, and that, when the war is over, they will not be ashamed of me, as they must be now. God help me; it is very God seems near and dear

hard to bear! Good-by, father! to me, not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but as if He felt sorry for his poor, sinful, broken-hearted child,

And, down bebe with Him and my Savior in a
From o

Calm

burst from Mr. Owen's heart.

(emnly,

"Amen."

"Amen,"

-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all ming home from pasture, and precious little Blossom stand on the back stoop, waiting for me, never come! God bless you all!

Bennie."

but I shall never

Forgive your poor

8. Late that night the door of the "back stoop" opened softly, and a little figure glided out, and down the foot-path that led to the road by the mill. She seemed rather flying than walking, turning her head neither to the right nor the left, looking only now and then to Heaven, and folding her hands, as if in prayer. Two hours later, the same young girl stood at the Mill Depot, watching the coming of the night train; and the conductor, as he reached down to lift her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face that was upturned toward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A few questions and ready answers told him all; and no father could have cared more tenderly for his only child, than he for our little Blossom.

9. She was on her way to Washington, to ask President Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, leaving only a note to tell her father where and why she had gone. She had brought Bennie's letter with her: no good, kind heart, like the President's, could refuse to be melted by it. The next morning they reached New York, and the conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute, now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. And so, in an incredibly short time, Blossom reached the Capital, and hastened immediately to the White House.

10. The President had but just seated himself to his

morning's task, of overlooking and signing important papers, when, without one word of announcement, the door softly opened, and Blossom, with downcast eyes, and folded hands, stood before him.

"Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheerful tones, "what do you want so bright and early in the morning?” "Bennie's life, please, sir," faltered Blossom.

"Bennie'? Who is Bennie?"

"My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at his post."

11. "Oh, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers before him. "I remember! It was a fatal sleep. You see, child, it was at a time of special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost for his culpable negligence."

"So my father said," replied Blossom gravely, "but poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie's night, not his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought about himself, that he was tired too."

"What is this you say', child? Come here; I do not understand," and the kind man caught eagerly, as ever, at what seemed to be a justification of an offense.

12. Blossom went to him: he put his hand tenderly on her shoulder, and turned up the pale, anxious face toward his. How tall he seemed, and he was President of the United States too! A dim thought of this kind passed for a moment through Blossom's mind; but she told her simple and straightforward story, and handed Mr. Lincoln Bennie's letter to read.

He read it carefully; then, taking up his pen, wrote a few hasty lines, and rang his bell.

Blossom heard this order given:

AT ONCE."

"SEND THIS DISPATCH

13. The President then turned to the girl and said,— "Go home, my child, and tell that father of yours, who could approve his country's sentence, even when it took the life of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks the life far too precious to be lost. Go back, or until to-morrow; Bennie will need a change after he has so bravely faced death; he shall go with you."

- wait

"God bless you, sir," said Blossom; and who shall doubt that God heard and registered the request?

66

14. Two days after this interview, the young soldier came to the White House with his little sister. He was called into the President's private room, and a strap fastened upon the shoulder." Mr. Lincoln then said, "The soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die for the good act so uncomplainingly, deserves well of his country." Then Bennie and Blossom took their way to their Green Mountain home. A crowd gathered at the Mill Depot to welcome them back; and, as farmer Owen's hand grasped that of his boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently,-"THE LORD BE PRAISED!"

QUESTION. Why the rising inflection on Bennie and say, as marked in the 10th and 11th paragraphs? See page 29, Note I. under Rule II.

LESSON XVI.

THE LAST RIDE.

MISS MULOCK.

"YOU "You must long; and, perhaps, I might stay a little

OU must let me remain out a good while to-day, I

later, to watch the sunset. I never can see it from my room, you know; which seems rather hard, now the even

ings are so beautiful and spring-like." Philip soothed him as an elder brother might have done, and promised all, provided he felt strong enough. Then he took Leigh in his arms like a child, and carried him down stairs to the gay carriage.

2. "Now, where shall we go, Leigh?" was the first question proposed, as they drove along High Street. Leigh pleaded for some quiet road: he wanted to go far out in the country, to that beautiful lane which runs along by the river side. He had been there once at the beginning of his illness, and had often talked of the place since. It haunted him, he said, with its overhanging trees, and the river view breaking in between them, its tiny wavelets all sparkling in the sun. He knew it would look just the same this calm, bright May afternoon. So, accordingly, they went thither.

3. It was one of those spring days when the Earth seems to rest from her joyful labor of budding and blossoming, and to be dreaming of summer. The birds in the trees, the swans in the water, the white clouds in the sky, were alike still; and upon all things had fallen the spell of a blessed silence-a silence full of happiness, and hope, and love. Happiness, hope, and love, what words, what idle words, they would sound unto the two who were passing slowly under the shadow of the trees! Oh, Earth! beautiful, cruel mother! How canst thou smile with a face so fair, when sorrow or death is on thy children! But the Earth answers softly: "I smile with a calm and changeless smile to tell my frail children that if in me, made but for their use, is such ever-renewed life and joy, shall it not be so with them'? And even while they gaze upon me, I pour into their hearts my deep peace!"

4. It was so with Philip and Leigh. They sat silent,