X. OLD HUNDRED AT NIGHT.

During the Peninsular campaign several of us (says a correspondent of one of the public journals) were sitting in our tent, a few hours after sunset, on Sabbath evening, when one of the number, laying his hand on my knee, suddenly exclaimed, "Hark, what is that?"

In an instant the talking ceased, and every ear was bent forward to catch the sound which had fixed the attention of our comrade. A silence ensued for a moment, and then there was wafted across the air the music of that glorious anthem, "Old Hundred," in which it seemed as if a thousand voices participated.

All of us immediately sought the open air, and there stood until the last note died away upon our ear. Never before had we heard anything so magnificently grand as this same "Old Hundred" sung by the soldiers of the Union army on the plains of Yorktown. The air was made vocal with the music, and the woods around reverberated with the mighty strain. Beneath the canopy of heaven the soldiers gazed upward into the star-lit sky, and sang, all with one voice,

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

It was solemn, soul-stirring, to hear these words thus chanted that have so often stirred the best, holiest emotions of man's heart. It was a scene not unfitted to inspire the genius of a Christian poet or artist.

ANECDOTE OF GENERAL SEDGWICK.

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XI. A PRECIOUS TESTIMONY.

My son (says Dr. Thompson)1 had learned to trust in Jesus as a friend. I see him now as he stood with me alone in his chamber, strapping his knapsack for his journey to Wheeling the parting interview. The day had been given to his outfit.

"Well, John," I said, "I believe I have procured everything that you will need. But there is one thing that you alone can care for. You are going upon a very serious business, with temptations and dangers, perhaps sickness and death, before you. You must keep near to Christ, my son, in prayer; never forget that."

Pausing for a moment in his preparations, he turned his large, loving eyes full upon me, looking his whole soul into mine, and answered,

"Father, I think I'm all right there."

His religious habit was so reticent, so thoughtful, so sincere, that those few words expressed to me his whole inner life.

The well-thumbed Testament and knapsack manual for devotion, among his effects, bear witness to his fidelity; and the testimony borne by all to the pureness of his speech and manner, and to the Christian elevation of his whole life, prove how thoroughly he was right within.

XII. ANECDOTE OF GENERAL SEDGWICK.

I have seen a second lieutenant, (says one of our soldiers) in all the pomp and circumstance of a majorgeneral, come dashing down the road, slashing at weary

1 See the article on page 169.

stragglers with his sword, or swearing at those who were not quick enough in dragging themselves from under his horse's feet. One day, a soldier, one of our best, had fallen, exhausted by over-work and illness, and lay helpless in the road, when an officer came dashing along in evident haste to join his staff in advance. It was pitiable to see the effort the poor boy made to drag his unwilling limbs out of the way. He struggled up only to sink back with a look that asked only the privilege of lying there undisturbed, to die. In an instant he found his head pillowed on an arm as gentle as his far-away mother's might have been, and a face bent over him, expressive of the deepest pity, in every lineament. It is characteristic of our bravest boys, that "they say but little. The uncomplaining words of the soldier in this instance were few, but understood.

The officer raised him in his arms and placed him in his own saddle, supporting the limp and swaying figure by one firm arm, while with the other he curbed the steps of his impatient horse to a gentler pace. For two miles, without a gesture of impatience, he travelled in this tedious way, until he reached an ambulance train, and placed the sick soldier in one of the wagons. It was our noble Sedgwick, our brave general of the Sixth Corps, pressed with great anxieties and knowing the preciousness of every moment.

We all know that great things are to be done, and well done, when we see that earnest figure in its rough blouse hurrying past, and never have our boys been disappointed in him. He works incessantly, is unostentatious; and when he appears among us, all eyes follow him with outspoken blessings. He saved his corps from utter annihilation at Chancellorsville by his bravery and good judgment.1

1 Inserted in the Christian Watchman, Boston.

THE SOLDIER'S LAST WATCH.

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XIII. A BRAVE CONFESSION.

A visitor to a Philadelphia hospital, one of the womenworkers in behalf of the invalid soldiers, says,

In going my rounds, I stopped once to speak to a young man of a rather agreeable and pleasant expression of face, who seemed anxious to talk, and exhibited much intelligence, though without culture. At the battle of Newport News, he had been shot through the right leg, and had suffered terribly, so much that he now looked the very shadow of a man, he was so dreadfully emaciated. His account of the battle was enthusiastic, and concluded with a long detail of the tortures he had to endure from hunger, thirst, and indeed almost every imaginable ill that could befall a soldier in the field, surrounded by enemies.

"I suppose you don't feel much like going back, do you?" I asked, when he had finished.

"Yes," he replied heartily. "If I knew I should have to suffer the same over again, I should want to go back. I want to get well chiefly to return to duty. There are too few honest patriots to spare even a single one, and if I have any pride, it is because I know I am one, wholesouled and true. I haven't many virtues, but my fault will never be treachery to my native land. I'll die for her, if I can't live to defend her!"

XIV. THE SOLDIER'S LAST WATCH.

A lonely grave, a little apart from others, stands on the ground of one of the battles fought in the retreat from Richmond, in the summer of 1862, which bears on its wooden head-piece simply the name

TROWBRIDGE.

The turf covers the remains of a youthful soldier who was not only brave and patient, but exemplary as a Christian. Those battles renewed from day to day and attended by so many hardships, destroyed many lives, in addition to those lost in conflict with the enemy. Hundreds and hundreds of our gallant men, worn out by marches, fighting, hunger, and loss of sleep, became discouraged, and either recklessly threw themselves into the jaws of death, or fell into the hands of the enemy, because they were unable to keep up with their more robust though not braver companions.

The circumstances of the death of one of these silent martyrs to their country were taken down from the lips of a soldier who was with him in his last hours. It is all that may be known, save to a few bleeding hearts, of one who, alas! like so many others, sleeps in that saddest of all places, a battle-field. The worn-out soldier, the day before his death, said to his lieutenant, "I am so weak and helpless, I do not know what I can do further."

He was told to lie down and get what rest he could on the battle-field. About ten at night, (said his tent-mate), as we were talking together, an officer of the company came up and told us we should retreat at two o'clock in the morning. He ordered us to stand guard till then, two hours each in turn.

We took straws and drew lots, to decide who should stand first. The lot fell on Trowbridge. I threw myself on the ground under a tree, with my blanket drawn over me, and was soon in a deep sleep. At twelve I was aroused, but said, "You must be mistaken; it cannot be five minutes since I lay down."

We had been ordered not to speak aloud, or to have a light; and he replied in a whisper, "Feel of the hands of my watch, it is twelve."