CHAPTER XXIV. It is not on the battlefield I'd breathe my latest sigh. I ask no laurel for my grave— No trophy for my tomb."-OLD SONG. UR story must now pass over some years since the capture of the young men at Grey Craigs. It is a night after an engagement between the enemy and a detachment of the British troops on the shores of Spain. There had been hard fighting all day, and at last the arms of the English proved victorious, and the foe had been repulsed with great slaughter. And now, when the shades of evening began to fall around, the officer in command, our old friend Davie Gordon, passed with his men over the field of battle to seek their dead, to bury them, and to carry the wounded to the ship. There is a great sorrow in the officer's heart Р this day, for his young and gallant friend Ray Blanchard had been shot dead at his side. Deep and strong had been the love between these two men, and Davie felt that with his friend much of sunshine had passed out of his life. When the men commenced their search the sun was setting amidst floating clouds of blended saffron and gold, and the dark shadows of the neighbouring mountains were falling across the plain, throwing still deeper into shade the gloomy antique streets of the adjacent city, where confusion and dismay yet reigned. Numberless watch-fires cast their lurid glare on the slow-rolling, broad-bosomed river, lighting up also the dark groves of olives overhanging its glassy surface. The battle had raged the hottest in the forest, into the depths of which the soldiers penetrated, lighted by the moon which now rose over the city and poured a full flood of its silvery light on all around. The trees were in full foliage, and the branches hung heavy with dew, which they pushed aside in their progress, rending at the same time the webs of silver gauze which the busy spiders were weaving in the moonbeams. The waving lemon-trees glittered in many shades of green, while dark masses of shadow, cast by the huge trunks of the chestnut, were interspersed with streaks of light falling silently on the grass; very clear and full fell that light on the pale and rigid features of the dead, fierce and contracted from the recent death-struggle, and on the wounded and dying, quivering with intensity of agony, grasping the gory ground with convulsive clutch, or raising their hands and eyes imploring pity and assistance. It was not long before Gordon found the dead body of his friend; but he had passed away quietly and calmly, and his face in death had the same sweet expression that it wore in life. "My brother, my more than brother!" exclaimed Gordon, as he bent over it, and a tear trickled from his cheek, which he wiped off with his hand; but it was no time for grief, and so wrapping him in his cloak they quickly dug a grave and laid him where he had fallen, grasping his sword in his dead hand. It was a sad and dreadful time, as all through the long night the wearied men toiled at their sorrowful work; some digging graves for the dead, whose only shroud was their tattered and bloody uniform, and their coffin the military cloak; and others conveying the wounded in carts to the boats. Not till the gray light of morning dawn did their labour cease. The officer, Captain Gordon, is much changed since the night of the penny wedding, more than four years ago. He has got an air of command in his bearing, but his face is as sunny and kindly as ever. His young fiery spirit has been tempered and subdued by suffering and trial. And now, when the ship was sailing for England, Gordon had time to look after the sick and dying, and to speak a kind word to some poor storm-tossed soul. Passing near one poor fellow desperately wounded, he was surprised to be called by name. Gordon ap proached him, and asked kindly "if he could do anything to serve him?" "You come from Grey Craigs?" murmured the soldier faintly. "I do," was the answer; do you come from that place also?" The soldier shook his head, but said softly, "I do not belong to it, but I have, or once had, a brother and sister there. Mr. Ramsay the schoolmaster is my brother." "Mr. Ramsay!" exclaimed Gordon; "I know him well, and also his sister. Are you, can you be, the long-lost and sorely mourned for brother?" 66 They speak of me then?" he said, and a gleam of pleasure passed over his face. "I thought they would have forgotten me. I was the prodigal son, but now I can say, like another prodigal in the Bible, 'I will arise and go to my Father,' and He will not cast me out." Thanks be unto God for these words!" said Gordon reverently; "and now, my man, tell me, are you badly wounded? I will take good care of all the sufferers, but more especially of you for the sake of your brother and sister." "The doctor tells me I cannot live many days, if I even see over to-morrow," was the answer; once it would have been fearful news, now, thanks be to the Lord! He sent and saved me in His great mercy-me, the chief of sinners. And I wish you to tell this to my friends at home. Surely their prayers held me up in the midst of sin and wanderings. I was determined when I got opportunity to make my way home, but you see there is no chance now. I am only glad I have seen you, that you might take a message to them.” 66 Well, you must speak no more just now," said Gordon kindly. "I will come and see you whenever I can get away from my duties." For some days Ramsay lingered, though getting weaker and weaker; still he was able to speak a little, and tell of his past life, that Gordon might be able to satisfy the curiosity of his brother and sister, should he ever see them again. At last, on the morning of the fourth day after the battle, he breathed his last, quietly and peacefully, leaving his few possessions to Gordon to take home to his friends, and amongst them was his Bible, which he considered his greatest treasure. It had been kept through all |