“'Yes,' said Jackson; 'and there seems to be one less at almost every turn. I feel that my time will surely come sooner or later, before this war closes.' “This was uttered in such a sad and melancholy tone that Henry could not for a moment control his feelings. Recovering, he said: “'It does seem that our family are struggling against fate; just think of the barbarous manner in which Harvey was killed, and see how, recently, the fiendish bushwhackers murdered poor brother Stephen. Would you not desire to be avenged on such wretches as these? Ever since I heard this, which was but a short while ago, (first told me by Seraine,) I have felt almost desperate, and certainly very revengeful.' “'Yes,' said Jackson, 'revenge is saia to be sweet; but suppose you cannot get it, and instead of being revenged, you lose your own life?' “'That is not all, Capt. Lyon,' as Seraine called him by his title; 'Mr. Henry Lyon promised me that he would not enter the service again, but that he would stay at home and take care of his father and mother, and I hope he will do so, and not break his promise to me. I have periled my life for him, and would do the same again.' “Henry clasped her in his arms and said: 'Seraine, I will do anything for you, and now I want to say right here, in the presence of my brother, that I am now and ever have been, ready to fulfill all of my promises to you.' “Seraine looked him in the face and said: 'I have never doubted you, Henry, nor do I now.' “'Jackson here interrupted, and turning to Henry, said: 'What are your promises to Seraine?' “'That she and I would become man and wife whenever she should say that the time had arrived to have the marriage take place. Is it not so, Seraine?' “'Yes, Henry, that is true; but I have never thought that the proper time had arrived.' “'Well,' said Jackson, 'if you will allow me to suggest, I think the time has now arrived. Seraine, your father and mother are growing old; your only brother is in the army and may never return.' And to Henry he said: 'Our mother and father are also growing feeble from so much grief. Mother, I think, cannot survive very much longer, and all of us who are now left, save yourself, are in the army. From our experience thus far the future is not full of hope. You and Seraine may soon be all that are left of both families, except, perhaps, some one or more of our parents. Now, Seraine, let us get your father and mother to go with us to ALLentown, and there, in the presence of both families who yet remain above the sod, (save brother Peter, who cannot be with us,) have this marriage solemnized. Henry, our mother and Jennie would be very happy over this, and so would Mary Anderson and the children, all of whom love Seraine very much.'