Slowly and sadly the poor children wandered around; for their sorrow pressed like a weight upon them. They would come softly to his bedside, smooth his golden hair, and kiss his forehead, and hope he would yet get well; then seeing his pallid face, and little wasted hands lying so still outside of the white bedspread, they would go hastily away, and shed bitter, bitter tears; vainly struggling to repress them, lest he should hear and be grieved.
The joyous little birds still sang in the trees; the majestic Highlands still rose in the blue air; and the splendid sunset clouds still covered their summits with a glory; the glittering water was beautiful as ever. The drums beat to reveille, and crowds of gay people walked about the parade-ground.
And Charley was dying.
Even now, the loving guardian angels were waiting on the other side of the dark valley, to conduct this summer blossom to his heavenly home. Myriads of little children were tuning their golden harps, to greet his purified spirit with a hymn of joyful welcome, and Jesus was saying, "Come."
And now, his last day on earth was passing—lovely and serene. Charley's little bed had been moved in the afternoon, close to the open window, where he could see the white sails gliding by on the smooth silvery water. A peace from within, not of this world, illuminated his sweet face. He had sent for all his brothers and sisters, and with a faint voice, and at broken intervals, was talking to them, and giving to each one some little trifle belonging to him; and one by one, convulsed with sobs, they would rush from the room—and after a painful struggle would return, with their tears forced back; their loving gaze fastened upon him, whom in a few short hours they would see no more.
When the good doctor entered, and saw that the end was so near, his features worked painfully, and covering his face with his hands, in another moment the great scalding tears trickled through. This brave man, in the midst of battle, with the death strokes falling right and left, and the great cannons booming destruction before him, had walked without fear or flinching among the dead and wounded, giving help and succor; but now, loving and tender-hearted as he was brave, he had covered his face, and was weeping like a child.
"Tell the doctor not to cry," whispered the dying boy. "I am going home to Jesus. I am going now," he said, with a gasping sigh. "Kiss me, mother. Oh! how I thank you for all your love and kindness. I thank you all; I bless you all. God bless you all;" and thus to the end, grateful and loving, Charley spoke his last words.
For now his silken hair lay heavy and damp upon his snow-white forehead; and as the solemn twilight deepened into shade, and the first star broke like a promise in the sky, one little upward fluttering sigh was heard, and they knew that this life was ended, and Charley was winging his bright way to HEAVEN.
Not a word was spoken, not a sob broke the stillness. The moonbeams, struggling into the room, disclosed the little mother on her knees by the small white couch, her head buried in the white coverings. The children sat sorrow-stricken, motionless, almost breath less, their eyes fastened on the face of the dead child, in a despairing hope that he might speak again; but not a breath stirred those still lips. The good doctor, after a while, tenderly raised the heart-broken mother, and led her away, and then sending for some kind neighbors, they gently and lovingly prepared the remains of Charley for their last quiet resting-place.
How lovely now looked what was left of the good and lovely boy. The glistening golden curls pressed closely around the broad, open brow, white as a lily, and a heaven-sent smile just parted the pale lips. The leaves of a cluster of white roses curled around his little hands, which were folded so tenderly above his stilled and quiet heart; and every flower that he loved was placed with tears and kisses all about him.