"Its ivory halls are bonnie, upon which the rainbows shine, Ond its Eden bowers are trellised with a never fading vine; Ond the pearly gates of Heaven do a glorious radiance fling, On the starry floor that shimmers in the Palace of the King. "Noo nicht shall be in Heaven ond nae desolating sea, Ond nae tyrant's hoof shall trample in the City of the free; There is everlasting daylight ond a never-fading Spring, Where the Lamb is all the glory in the Palace of the King." The widow lay as though she were dead, so tranquil was the slumber that had kissed down her heavy eyelids, and her crossed hands were laid upon the light coverlid that rested upon her bosom. "Oh," thought Alice as she looked upon the scarcely animated human body, "if it were not a sin, and if you were not so wearied, how I would envy you, Mrs. MacLaren; you are soon to be so happy. Your tired feet will soon press the 'Starry floor that shimmers in the palace of the King' ond your tired een will soon 'behold the King in his beauty,' ond your tired heart will throb with a divine feeling when He bids you welcome in the 'palace of the King; ond he will gae you the title to your mansion with a smile, ond you ken fine it is your ain hoose, ond after sich sae travail you have coom hame to abide for aye.'" After a while the old lady awoke to find Alice kneeling at her head, to wipe the damp from her brow with her handkerchief. Alice was the first to speak and she said quite endearingly "How are you now, my dear Mrs. MacLaren? I hope you feel ever so much better." The old lady with some effort raised her eyes and responded feebly, "Better chiel. Ah my dearie," she said almost hopefully, "may be I'll nae go to my ain hame the day. Just then I was so weary and I had almost forgotten that you were still with me. Ond were you nae singing a wee bit ago dearie? or was I dreaming ond heard the Angels singing, 'We'll trust our God who reigneth in the palace of the King?' It might have been the voice of my auld mither, I dinna ken, I dinna ken," she repeated emotionally. "If you are not tired, Allie, will you not read a passage from the blessed book, just to make me think of the auld, auld story." Alice took the Bible from the little deal table and upon opening its pages a five dollar treasury note of the Confederate government, of the issue of eighteen hundred and sixty two, fell upon the floor. It appeared to Alice as a pictorial representation of war, its havoc, its chariot wheels, with great cruel tires and knives, and its heaps of slain. She turned it over and saw this writing, in a neat feminine hand on the back, "It was not for the like of this that my lad was slain at Gettysburg, it was for honor. With the tidings of his death came this note from his hands. 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord.'"