“I, myself,” he said, “do not expect to live through this fight. I do not want to, and that is why I have come to speak to you for the last time.” He saw her frame quiver and tears spring to her eyes, but he went on: “I shall leave with General Jackson a letter my father wrote to me before he died, and which I found among his papers a few days after I first met you. After this fight is over I want him to deliver it into your hands—then you may think differently,” he added, “and I should not want you to think evil of me after I am dead.” “Tell me now,” she said, and turning she came up and stood looking into his face, her eyes moist and yet afire with love and hope. “Tell me now. I do so wish to hear you say.” He could not restrain himself. He stooped and laid his lips on hers. “It is my first—my last,” he said, and though she clung to his neck for one brief moment and he heard her sob, he shook her quietly off, and answered the call to horse that was sounded in the yard where his commander and his aides had mounted and were ready to go. “Goodbye, my darling,” he whispered. “I shall go on, knowing I have your love and if I fall know that you were mine—forever.” [_To be continued._] A VISION My thoughts were earthy, and the tainted springs And ugly chattels of the city lay Along my path—when, as one doth obey A subtle call, soul-heard, that instant brings A voice, a vision of diviner things— I looked, and, lo! the sky, of softest gray, Was radiant with roseate tint and play Of light on clouds like wide, seraphic wings. Then faded all around me while my heart Was fixed on that bright cloudscape, passing fair, Tranquil and shining o’er the sordid mart As tho’ the embodiment of purest prayer. Ah, Master of all Beauty, would that we Each day some vision of Thyself might see! _Ingram Crockett._ THE FIRST CAMP MEETING IN AMERICA By Helen Harcourt How and when did the now familiar camp meeting originate? Very few among us can answer that question. Very few know that this unique means of attracting the masses, especially those who, from necessity or choice, rarely enter a church door, took its rise in this country in the year 1799. Those were early days, and primitive customs, and quiet, rural simplicity were the rule, for the population of the young republic was still small and scattered, but for the most part, that very simplicity made the people all the more susceptible to any unusual religious influences.