Now and then a letter from the front revived her drooping spirits, as her soldier boy told of his many escapes amid the charging columns and roar of battle. After many months or maybe years she received the sad tidings that her gallant soldier was no more; his gallant spirit had flashed out with the guns, and his manly form, wrapped in a soldier's blanket, had been consigned to an unmarked grave far away from home and loved ones. The last rays of hope fled, and she resigned herself to her sad and lonely fate. They were true to their country in its sore distress, true to their heroes wearing the gray, and true to their God who doeth all things well. Could any one lead a more consecrated life? Now, let us, instead of deriding, cast the veil of charity over their desolate lives. The once smooth cheek is furrowed with the wrinkles of time, the glossy braids have whitened with the snows of winter, the once graceful form is bending under the weight of years, while the bright eyes have grown dim watching, not for the soldier in gray, but for the summons that calls her to meet him on that bright and beautiful shore, there to be with loved ones who have gone before, and receive the reward of "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." Soon the last one of those patriotic women of the sixties will have passed over the river, and their like may never be seen again, but their love of home and country will be handed down to generations yet unknown. With best wishes for the household, W. H. ANDREWS. A MOTHER'S LETTER [From a dying soldier boy.] The Alabama papers in 1863 published the following letter from Private John Moseley, a youth who gave up his life at Gettysburg: BATTLEFIELD, GETTYSBURG, PA., _July 4, 1863_. DEAR MOTHER: I am here, prisoner of war and mortally wounded. I can live but a few hours more at furthest. I was shot fifty yards from the enemy's line. They have been exceedingly kind to me. I have no doubt as to the final result of this battle, and I hope I may live long enough to hear the shouts of victory before I die. I am very weak. Do not mourn my loss. I had hoped to have been spared, but a righteous God has ordered it otherwise, and I feel prepared to trust my case in His hands. Farewell to you all. Pray that God may receive my soul. Your unfortunate son, JOHN. TOM AND HIS YOUNG MASTER [In Richmond During the War, pages 178-179.]