THE LOG CHURCH.

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he had found the peace which comes from faith in the Redeemer; and, wishing to declare his attachment to Christ, he asked to be baptized by immersion. I told his captain," said the brother; "and he, though a wicked fellow, assented to my request of having us pass the lines to a convenient place in a river close at hand, where the ordinance could be administered."

"And may not I and my men go along?" inquired the captain.

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Certainly," said Chaplain Cotton, and at a short notice they went. The scene was a most solemn one, and, as the baptism was completed, there was not a dry eye amongst all the men of the company. "That man has courage to go anywhere or do anything that is right,” said a bystander; "and a regiment composed of men like him would be, like Havelock's Highlanders, invincible to all opposition."

VII. THE LOG CHURCH.

The account which follows is from the Rev. Mr. Alvord, whose self-denying labors for the soldier have so endeared his name to the hearts of all good people. The incident occurred in Virginia, during the campaign under General Burnside. It was a communication sent to one of the publications of the American Tract Society.

There are no chapel tents now, and everything has to be done usually in the open air, where but two or three can be gathered together. The chaplains and other Christian men are not inclined to spend much time in erecting any permanent buildings, as the army is constantly liable to move. But certain boys of the New York Twenty-fourth (who have no chaplain), determined that they would have a better place for their meetings. They had been held

hitherto, as one of them said, by the side of a stump. Two of them especially, although only privates, seemed almost inspired on the subject. They obtained permission of the colonel to build a cabin of logs. These had to be drawn a mile, trimmed, framed, and piled up. The dimensions were to be sixteen by thirty-two feet, sufficiently large to hold a hundred and sixty persons.

The first logs were heavy, and hardly any one helped them. Their plan at first was not very definite. They would lay down a log, and then look and plan by the eye. Another log was then wearily drawn and placed on the other. To most of their comrades, the affair gave occasion only for jests and merriment. "Are you to have it finished before the world ends?" they asked. "Are you fixing up to leave?" "How does your saloon get on?" Even the more serious felt pity for them, rather than sympathy. There was already an order out to move. "What is the use?" "Who wants meetings now?" But these two Christian soldiers (S. and L.) toiled on like Noah amidst the scoffs of the multitude. The edifice slowly rose; volunteers lent a hand. The Christian men of the regiment, forty or fifty in all, became interested; some of them at length aided in the work. The structure reached at last a proper height; and a roof of brush first, and then of patched ponchos having been put on, the meeting began,

or rather they began when it was only an open pen. In a few days, Burnside's advance took place, and the regiment left for the field.

In their absence, plunderers stripped the cabin, and carried off a portion of its material; but on the return of our troops, the same busy hands and hearts of faith were again at work. A sutler gave them the old canvas cover of his large tent, which he was about to cut up to serve as a shelter for his horses, and lo, it precisely fitted the roof of the

meeting-house,-not an inch to spare! This was drawn over the neat rafters and lashed at the edges, making a transparency by day, and reflecting the light most pleasantly by night. The boys, when they saw this, thought it almost a miracle; and were hardly less pleased when the door, with its latch and string, was fitted so nicely in its place. But they had no lock as yet to preserve the interior of their house from depredations, and when, having inquired and sent everywhere for one in vain, they were out for their last load of poles for benches, they had to tell me how, just upon their pathside in the forest, a lock was found with a key in it, all ready to be fitted to their door! I thought myself it was a little strange, that far out here in Virginia, at such a time, an article of this description, by just these eyes, should have been discovered. But I concluded that the God who had helped these feeble workmen to build his house could help them finish it.

Well, there it stands, a monument to his glory, and the credit of their perseverance. You should have seen their eyes shine, as, here in my tent for tracts, they were one day giving me its history, and you should have been with us. last evening. The little pulpit from which I spoke is made of empty box boards. Two chandeliers hang suspended from the ridgepole of cross sticks, wreathed with ivy, and in the socketed ends are four adamant candles, each burning brilliantly. Festoons of ivy and 'dead men's fingers' (a species of woodbine called by this name) are looped gracefully along the sides of the room, and in the centre, stretching from chandelier to chandelier; - the effect not slightly increased by the contrast of the deep green of the rich vegetation with the fine brown.bark of the pine logs, and of the white canvas above, striped and interlaced with the rafters. Below, a dense pack of soldiers in the Avengers'1

1 So called in memory of Colonel Ellsworth, who was killed at Alexandria.

1

uniform sat crouching upon the pole seats, beneath which was a carpet of evergreen sprays; all silent, uncovered, respectful. As the service opened, you could have heard a pin fall. There was nothing here to make a noise. Pewdoors, psalm-books, rustling silks, or groined arches, reverberating the slightest sound of hand or footfall, there were none. Only the click of that wooden latch and a gliding figure, like a stealthy vidette, creeping in among the common mass, indicated the late comer. The song went up from the deep voices of men, do know the effect? you and before our service closed, tears rolled down from the faces of hardy warriors. To be brief, every evening of the week, this house is now filled with men brought together, four times out of seven for religious objects. When they can have no preaching, the soldiers themselves meet for prayer.

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I stole in one evening lately, when they were at these devotions. Prayer after prayer successively was offered in earnest, humblest tones, before rising from their knees; those not worshippers were intent on the scene. Officers were present and took part in the service, and seldom have I seen such manifest tokens that God is about to appear in power. No opposition is shown. The whole regiment look upon the house now as a matter of pride; they encourage all the meetings.

The house is attractive to visitors, and when not used for religious purposes is occupied for lyceum debates, musical concerts, and the like. It is easy to imagine how much these two Christian laborers enjoy the success of their work. One of them said to me, "We have been paid for all our labor a thousand times over."

THE SILENT PRAYER.

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VIII. THE BLIND SOLDIER.

Among the men at the New England Rooms, in New York, (says a visitor to that place,) is one from Michigan. He was shot in the head at Malvern Hill, and the optic nerve was carried away, so that he has become stone-blind. He is now well, in his general health, but will never see again. He is one of the happiest men in the land. He is a person of cheerful, but open and decided piety. "Happy as the day is long," has its literal and expressive meaning as applied to him. It is delightful to listen to him as he speaks of what he did for the old flag while he could see, and still more to observe how he strives to be useful still since his injury, in such ways as he can. He feels his way from couch to couch, drops, as he moves along, fitting words of sympathy and counsel, cheers up the despondent, and makes the heart glad. Those connected with the rooms assure me, (says this visitor,) that the tone of his happy speech, and pious resignation, impress all who have an opportunity to see and hear him.

IX. THE SILENT PRAYER.

An officer reports, that a little drummer-boy was on board one of the transport ships which conveyed his regiment to Fortress Monroe. At the close of the first day, just at evening, the little fellow, overcome by the fatigues of the day, laid himself down upon the deck, and fell asleep. The night was chilly and the dews were falling. The colonel came along and shook him by the shoulder, and told him he would take cold if he continued to lie there, and advised him to go below and go to his rest for