A soldier, wounded during our last war, lay dying in his cot. Suddenly the deathlike stillness of the room was broken by the cry, |Here! Here!| which burst from the lips of the dying man. Friends rushed to the spot and asked what he wanted. |Hark,| he said, |they are calling the roll of heaven, and I am answering to my name.| In a few moments once more he whispered, |Here!| and passed into the presence or the King.
-- The way to heaven is straight as an arrow.
-- Heaven is just as much a place as Chicago. It is a destination.
[Illustration: Joseph Makes Himself Known to His Brethern. GUSTAVE DORE. Genesis, xiv.]