The officer, like most men of his class, though stern and uncompromising in duty, was far from unkindly, and was a deeply religious man. In the presence of death, all differences were dwarfed, and common humanity asserted itself. He turned to the dying man with a subdued manner and grave inquiries. ‘Ah! brother,’ said he, ‘this is an hour to prove the vanity of earthly things. I would fain ask if you have made your peace on high, and laid down your weapons of rebellion against the Divine Majesty? Bethink you that He is a God pardoning iniquity, transgression, and sin, and showing mercy unto all truly penitent souls. Look to the risen and glorified Mediator; for I am not one of those who would bid men fix their thoughts on Calvary, as if what was done there were still in course of being accomplished. But rest ye on a completed Atonement whereby thy peace is purchased for ever. Then thou shalt have no fear even in the gloomy valley.’ The dying man had recognised the officer as an opponent, and at first there had been a faint thrill of resistance to his words. But the tone was so sincerely kind, and there was such evident human interest and religious earnestness, that he accepted with a grateful look the exhortation addressed to him. No word passed his lips, but his eyes glanced upwards as if in silent prayer. The officer knelt down, and poured out with Puritan quaintness and fervour strong intercessions for the sufferer, praying that he might not fail of eternal glory. The awed farmer and his wife listened as to a strange tongue, and when the voice ceased Captain Melford was heard to say ‘Amen.’ They then saw one convulsive shudder pass through his frame, and all was over—Death had claimed his own. What remains can be narrated briefly. The officer gave orders that the funeral should be conducted reverently; and on learning the name and rank of Captain Melford, undertook to communicate with his friends. After a time, the soldiers withdrew from the village, and its quiet life once more flowed into its former channels. John Sprayby and Barbara Dimbell were then married; and the old folks cautiously brought forward Captain Melford’s legacy, and set up the young ones on a farm. It was the beginning of assured prosperity to them; and to this day their descendants, still bearing the name of Sprayby, are found on the same farm. The little village of Bullenham bears no trace of the rough edge of war which once descended upon it, nor do many even of the neighbours know how from the red soil of battle sprang the large and peaceful prosperity of the Sprayby family. THE GORSE. As I lingered at the window, Weary of the summer heat, Looking out upon the shadows Of the now deserted street, Came with gleam of yellow blossoms Scattered memories faintly glad, Wakened by the gorse and heather In the cap of country lad.