It was a tender recognition which we respected. He looked after her, it seemed to me, and almost saw her in her new home. The months wore on, and our cares were still increasing. News of battles lost and won came to us daily, and at last a letter telling of Lieutenant Minot having been wounded seriously. It was impossible for any one to reach him at present, and we must wait until he got to Washington, whither he would be sent as soon as he was able. Our fears were great, but at last a letter came from Washington, stating he would start for home on the twenty-first of October, and he desired Hal to meet him in New York. Hal found that the wound was in the shoulder, and the ball was still in it. Unsuccessful probing had caused him great suffering, and we should hardly have known him. When the real state of the wound was known, Aunt Hildy said: "I can get that ball out," and she went to work energetically. She cut cloth into strips and bound all about the place where the ball entered, and then she made a drawing "intment," as she called it, and applied it daily, and in about four weeks, to our great delight, the ball came out. Ben had the receipt for that wonderful "intment," and he calls it "Aunt Hildy's miracle." When the cold days of the fall came upon us, Aunt Hildy felt them greatly, and the morning of December tenth we awoke to find her gone; she had gone to sleep to wake in a better home. It seemed as if we could not have it so, but when I remembered all she had told me of her hopes and fears, when I knew she had found Clara and was glad, I said we were selfish; let our hearts say "Amen." The town mourned Aunt Hildy, and again our church was filled to overflowing, and the sermon Mr. Davis preached was a just and beautiful tribute to our beloved friend, the true and faithful Hildah Patten. The day after the burial, father said to us in a mournful tone: "Now I have a duty to perform, and when she talked to me about it, she said, 'Do it right off, Mr. Minot; don't wait because you feel kinder bad to have me laid away. It's the best way to do what you've got to do, and get it over with.' "So to-night we'll read the papers, and then we will carry out her desires--good old soul; I do wish she could have stayed longer. I can hardly see how we're going to live without her." The evening drew near, and Halbert, Mary and Ben, with little Hal, were seated in the "middle room," while my father, with a trembling hand, turned the key in a small drawer of the old secretary, and took out a roll of papers and a box. As he did so a thought struck him, and he turned suddenly, saying: "Why are not all here? She told me to have Matthias and Peg and John come over. I believe a few more sad partings would make me lose my memory." "I'll go over for them," said Ben; "it is early yet."