battle--clad in their military dress, in waiting for the last
trump and the final parade at the great review--the victims of the
fight, he laid the dead arm reverently in the ground, and covered
it with its kindred clay. He thought of his sister's remark, about
preparing the shroud before death, but here was he burying part of
the body of a man who was yet alive.

Neville, meanwhile, had been speaking words of spiritual comfort
and counsel to the wounded and the dying, and receiving their last
faint-whispered messages to loved ones far away. He also read,
over the ghastly trench in which the dead were being buried--one
wide, long, common grave, in which lay side by side friend and
foe, those recently arrayed in battle with each other, slain by
mutual wounds, and now at rest and for ever--the solemn funeral
service. As he pronounced the words, "Dust to dust, ashes to
ashes," the earth was thrown on the uncoffined dead, and then over
the soldiers' grave their comrades fired their farewell volley and
again mounted guard against the foe.

Zenas received a lesson in surgery that day of which he found the
benefit more than once before the war was over. He was soon able
to apply one of Katharine's lint bandages or dress a wound with a
deftness that elicited the commendation not only of the subject of
his ministration, but even of the knight of the scalpel himself.
Neville, too, evinced no little skill in the surgeon's beneficent
art.

"Young Drayton," said the surgeon, "I think we shall have to
trespass on the hospitality of your house on behalf of Captain
Villiers, here. He has received a severe gunshot wound, from which