THE INDIANA HERO BOY.

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there? He was told to go to Gov. Morton, and inform him he was on his way home from Shiloh, with ruined health, and had neither money nor food. He answered. that he would do it if he had strength to walk. He was then told to send him a line; any one would carry it for him. He said he would do so, and added, "It would not be improper. Surely the governor would not let me starve. It seems to me almost anybody would help a sick soldier."

When he arrived at Elkhart, he would still be several miles from home. That occurred to him, and perplexed his thoughts for a moment; and, then, smiling, he said, "Our family physician lives there, and he will take me in his carriage, and carry me home, and, oh! does not a welcome await me when my mother sees me coming? I shall take her by surprise. She is not prepared for that." Here the train started with the sick boy, who seemed revived by his food, and the words of encouragement spoken to him, and the thoughts of home.

CHAPTER II.

SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS IN THE ARMY.

I. THE AGED VOLUNTEER.

JOHN HENRY, of Indiana, is the name of one of the martyr heroes of the war. Although fifty-six years of age, he enlisted as a volunteer in the Seventy-eighth Indiana Regiment. He was not influenced by ambition, for he went as a private; nor by the love of money, for he was not destitute of means, and the soldier's stipend of thirteen dollars a month was little to him; nor yet by patriotism alone, although he loved his country well enough to die for it. He was a teacher in the Sabbath school, and went from love to the members of his class, and from a sense of duty to his Lord and Master, who had committed them to his care. He said "The Great Shepherd will demand them at my hands. I wish to give a good account of my trust. I must care for the souls for whom He cared, and be able, if I can, to present them among the saved, in the day when the throne shall be set, and the books be opened." So he enlisted.

He fell in a skirmish on Monday morning, at Uniontown, Kentucky, mortally wounded. A ball passed through his face, inflicting a terrible wound. It entered just below the left cheek-bone, cut his tongue almost off, shattered the right cheek-bone, and so passed out. He was still able after this, to make himself understood, and was full of joy in spite of the pains of death. On Sunday, the day before

his end, he had spent the forenoon in a neighboring orchard, in meditation and prayer. Toward noon he had this thought impressed deeply on him, "Work to-day, for the time is short." And he did work. He passed from tent to tent, praying, praising, and exhorting, not only during the remainder of the day, but late into the night.

The next morning, he was among the first to fall, and soon his mutilated tongue was silent in death. Among his last words were these: “Oh, I am happy, for when the Master came, he found me at my appointed work!" He entered into the full conception of those words of Christ, which we hear with a new emphasis from such a grave. "Blessed are those servants whom the Lord, when he cometh, shall find watching: verily I say unto you, that he shall gird himself, and make them to sit down to meat, and will come forth and serve them. And if he shall come in the second watch, or come in the third watch, and find them so, blessed are those servants."

II. JOHN LORENZE.

The following is a remarkable example of fortitude and of the power of Christian faith. It is an illustration of those virtues that would adorn the martyrology of the brightest ages of the church. The account is from the chaplain of the Eighth Regiment of Connecticut Volunteers. It was written from

"ROANOKE ISLAND, February 22, 1862.

"We are encamped on the battle-field, and the incident I relate is fresh in my mind. John Lorenze, a resident of Mullica Hill, Gloster County, New Jersey, enlisted as a private in the Ninth Regiment of the New Jersey Volunteers, and with his regiment was engaged in the fight at

Roanoke Island, February 8, 1862. During the engagement, which lasted for a number of hours, Mr. Lorenze had both his legs shot away just below the knees, and his comrades bore him from the field. But he did not lose his consciousness nor self-control. In speaking of his sensations as he was shot, he said that a something came and took away his legs, dropping him suddenly to the ground. While he was being borne on the litter to the hospital, as if indifferent to his own sufferings, he sought to cheer his comrades, and all whom he met, by his encouraging words and happy manner. In answer to questions regarding himself and his wounds, he returned cheerful answers. During the amputation of the fragments of his limbs necessary to be removed, he retained his spirits, and encouraged the surgeons by his pleasant frame of mind. His countenance was an index of the composure, almost transport, of his feelings: so much so that all who saw him remarked at once its beaming expression.

"I first observed him as he lay on the floor of the hospital on the day that he suffered the terrible injury. I went to him and asked him where he was wounded. He told me that both his legs were shot away just below the knees. I then conversed with him a few moments about his wounds, the suffering he endured, and spoke to him of the Saviour, · of his love and sustaining grace. The tears filled his eyes. 'Oh,' said he, 'Jesus is all my trust. Blessed be his holy name! I do not know what would sustain me, if it were not for the consciousness of his presence.' I asked him if he was a professor of religion. He replied that he had tried to serve God for a number of years. 'I have tried to serve him in the camp, and now he is all my trust.' The tears rolled down his cheeks while he talked. I left him, promising to see him again, and pray with him, and also to write to his wife, informing her of his situation. In

the course of our conversation he spoke of his family, consisting of a wife and two young children, and said he did not know whether he should live or die; but if it was God's will that he should live, he thought he might be of some little service to those dependent on him; but immediately added, 'God's will be done.' All this time the same heavenly smile rested on his face. I called to see him again the next day, which was Sabbath, but found him asleep, and did not awake him. I called again on Monday, and conversed with him, finding him still in possession of the same peace and cheerfulness. I then read to him the fifth chapter of Second Corinthians, and prayed with him. Before the prayer closed, the room was filled with the surgeons and attendants, all of whom were in tears; and the hearty amen which came from the lips of the wounded man was audible to all in the room.

"While I was writing the letter to his wife, he said, 'Tell her I am comfortable and cheerful; but as she is very nervous, do not tell her how severely I am wounded.' And then he spoke of the surgeons and those who attended him, expressing gratitude for their kindness. 'Oh,' he said, 'they are all so kind to me.' I think I never before witnessed such an instance of Christian fortitude and heroic faith; his loss was so great, and yet under it all he was so happy and confident.

"A very profane man called to see him, and in speaking of him afterward in my presence, remarked, 'It would do any one's heart good to look at that man's face. I never saw such a face since I was born. If I had a regiment of such men, I could conquer the whole South;' and turning to me, he asked, 'What sustains that man?' It was a fitting opportunity, and I told him Mr. Lorenze's testimony respecting his faith in Christ, and its power to lift him thus above pain and the fear of death. The scorner dropped his head and was silent."