LIEUTENANT ALLEN had gone through many battles without harm. At last, he received a terrible wound at Gettysburg, and a few days after was lying in the hospital, so ill and weak that he scarcely recognized any one about him. He was a Christian man, and not afraid to die, but as little by little his strength revived, he began to think about his wife and his little children.
Nelly was eleven, Mary nine, and there was a little babe born the very day he received his wound. From the hospital Lieutenant Allen’s colonel wrote home to his friend’s. The letter threw the little family into consternation. Mrs. Allen could not go; her father was ill; and an only brother of the Lieutenant was far in the west.
“Mamma, may I go?” asked Nelly, her,’ cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright with tears.
“You, my poor girl!” said her mother mournfully.
Later in the day, a neighbor came in who was going to Gettysburg, and Nelly renewed her entreaties, which at last prevailed.
One day the Lieutenant waked from an uneasy sleep. Could he believe his eyes? There sat his little girl — his own little Nelly — her gentle eyes so full of love, her innocent kiss upon his cheek so fervent, her sweet voice so soft in its murmuring fondness, that her father began to rally from that moment.
In one of the wards was a poor boy who soon drew Nelly’s attention. His face was so pale and swollen, and his breath so labored, that the child was frightened.
“Papa, is he dying?” she asked.
“Yes, my dear,” said the nurse, “You” had better not look at him. Poor soul, he has been trying to pray; but he did not seem to know what to say.”
Another moment and Nelly was at the bedside of the dying boy, breathless, eager, her little hands clasped, as she bent earnestly down, and cried in her low, clear voice: —
“Just say ‘Jesus;’ only say Jesus save me!’”
The boy looked up anxiously, his white lips moved.
“Just look to Jesus, He will hear you!” cried the child again.
The fluttering breath was still for a moment; and from the laboring throat came in one low, shrill voice— “Jesus, I trust in Thee!”
A beautiful smile of delight illumined the young face that bent over him.
“O papa!” she cried, a moment after, as the nurse laid her hand on the poor young Sergeant’s eyes, now closed forever, “I hope he has gone to be with Jesus;” and, laying her head on the pillow, she cried quietly. Death was so new to her.
The Lieutenant got well enough to return home with his little daughter; and after a month’s furlough, he went back to the service of his country. Through all the trials of his life on the battle-field, the thought of his little daughter cheered him; and he was never happier than when, enclosed in her mother’s letter, came a sweet, childish note from Nelly, full of news about her pets, and especially the dear baby, who would certainly walk by the time papa came home.
The baby did walk by the time papa came home; but there was no Nelly to greet him. She, dear child! had departed to be with Christ, which was far better. A severe fever had brought death, and little Nelly was safe forever. During the delirium of her illness, she thought herself in the hospital, and ever and anon, clasping her hands, would cry out — “Just say, Jesus, save me!”