"Sir, don't you think God was very good to take care of you in the battles?"
"He was, child; He has always been good to me."
"Then why did you let any one be so wicked as to tear this Bible so?"
Hubert kissed the boy's cheek: he could not answer the home-thrust, but taking the Bible from his hand, said—
"Good bye, Frank; now run away home."
The child went away as he was desired, but Hubert's heart reproached him in a moment; he thought he had been harsh, so, bending forward, he called the little fellow back.
There was a tear in the boy's eye when he returned, and stood gazing up again into Hubert's face, which convinced Hubert that he had disappointed him; so, taking his little hand, he said—
"Frank, do you wish to ask me anything more?"
"Yes, sir, I want to ask all about being a soldier."
Hubert could not resist, nor refuse to listen to the inquiries of that little heart. And there they sat—the once disobedient, sinning, reckless son, and the little artless child. It relieved the older bosom to talk of the past, and Hubert told into that little ear more than he had told any one before. It was a strange sympathy; but the boy drew closer to him, leant his little arms upon the veteran's knee as he gazed earnestly into his face, while Hubert told him something of his own youth-time, and about being a soldier.