WORSHIP ON THE FLATBOAT.

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personal friend, a Baptist minister, who was a lieutenant. He had been shot through the thigh, shattering the bone so that it could not be set, and also through the arm. He lay for hours, after he was wounded, within the rebel lines, with his wounds undressed, unable to get even a drink of water; a part of the time the balls and shells falling thick around him. Yet he told me, as he lay there, he enjoyed some of the sweetest experiences of his life. He several times found himself unconsciously singing that sweet hymn:

"When I can read my title clear,

To mansions in the skies,

I bid farewell to every fear,

And wipe my weeping eyes."

Such men, too, are examples of those whose fear of God and dependence on him have given them courage to face the enemy, and encounter death in obedience to the call of duty.1

XIII. WORSHIP ON THE FLATBOAT.

Commodore Foote, the praying commodore, as he has been truthfully called, acted often as his own chaplain. The following sketch of the services on his flatboat, on a certain Sunday, was given in a letter from the Mississippi fleet. It affords another proof of the anxiety of this noble man for the spiritual welfare of those who served under him, and of his conviction that he would have better soldiers in them if he could lead them to honor God and trust in Him.2

The sailors, clad in their clean, plain blue uniforms, congregated on the forward port side. We look around us,

1 See Report of the American Tract Society for 1863, page 72.

2 For other notices of this lamented officer, the reader is referred to pp. 35 and 54 of this volume.

and a scene presents itself very different from the ordinary employment of warlike men. Here, in line on the starboard, we see the marines drawn up in line, or at ease, with their muskets and fixed bayonets resting on their left shoulder. In the foreground is the capstan, covered with the "Union Jack," its blue field and white stars adorning the patriotic pulpit. Around it stand Flag-officer Foote, Lieutenant Phelps, Colonel Buford and other officers. As the flag-officer approaches, he is saluted by all hands, who stand with uncovered heads. The gay, glittering, showy uniforms of the officers are in striking contrast with the plain garb of the seamen and marines. The flag-officer, in a few brief and eloquent remarks, reminds us that this is the Sabbath, the day set apart for rest and the worship of the Most High. It is the first religious service, we are told, held on this flag-ship, because, on the last Sabbath we could not perform it, owing to an engagement with the enemy which could not be avoided.

In the course of his address, he urged us to bear in mind our duty to be prepared to meet our Maker, and hoped that all, officers and men, would refrain from intemperance, profanity, every immoral practice, and be ready to give. their account to God, let the summons come when and as it might.

He also offered up a prayer from the Episcopal service. The services were impressive and interesting. While Flag-officer Foote was praying "Our Father, who art in Heaven," the report and zip, zip, zip, of shot or shell from the enemy's guns could be distinctly heard by all present. The flag-officer was calm and unmoved, however; he went forward eloquently and feelingly with the service until all was concluded in due form.

THE CABIN A BETHEL.

XIV. GARMENTS ROLLED IN BLOOD.

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In this paragraph, a striking figure, an impersonation, if I may so call it, rises before us, which represents to us the barbarity of war on the one hand, and the ameliorating spirit of Christ's gospel on the other.

In a regiment at Fort Donelson, which was engaged in a battle of three days at that point, was a chaplain, of whom one of the soldiers gives an excellent testimony. "He was with us," he says, "day after day; and as soon as a man fell wounded, he would take him up in his arms, and carry him out where the surgeon could take care of him; and the last day I saw him, his clothes, from head to feet, were literally dripping with the blood of dead and wounded men that he had carried off from the battle when at Fort Donelson. His health was impaired, and he went home, but came back again in a few weeks, and reached Pittsburg Landing on the day of the battle, and there again went with his regiment into that battle, and performed similar labors. He was again at the battle of Cross Lane, where he was taken prisoner, and remained a prisoner for some days because he was unwilling to leave his wounded men. The last I saw of him was at Memphis, where he embarked for Vicksburg, and he was again in those battles, and has been there, in like manner, a spiritual comforter, an angel of mercy and relief to the wounded and dying."

XV. THE CABIN A BETHEL.

The following circumstance is related of a company of volunteers, whom Captain Washington, of Dubuque, Iowa, forwarded to the lower Mississippi.

They were on board of the Steamer Canada, on the way

to St. Louis. It was Saturday evening, and most of the passengers in the cabin were engaged in conversation, or passing away their time with cards or dice, while some of the more rude were uttering the ribald jest or ungentlemanly oath. Amid this scene, one of the youthful soldiers seated himself at a table, and engaged in reading his Bible. Another and still another took their places around this temporary altar, until nearly all of that little band, about twenty in number, were occupied in the same manner. An aged man then rose, and took his position in the centre of the group thus formed. He had a pious and venerable air, for his hoary locks proclaimed that many a winter had passed over his head. There those boys, the sons of farmers, in such a presence, with that patriarchal man as their leader, lifted up their voices and hearts in prayer to the Ruler of nations, and the God of battles, presenting a spectacle which no thoughtful person could regard without interest and hopeful anticipations of the future. The creaking machinery of the boat, the dirge-like music of the wind, was loud; yet, above the clatter, above all the tumult, we know that the voices of those boys were heard in heaven, and that their prayers will be answered. Their Bibles, precious gifts of love, are sacred to them, and by their hallowed influence will strengthen them, and shield them from greater dangers than those from which cuirass and glittering mail are worn to protect the warrior.

Parents and friends at home, fear not for such brave sons, who, relying on Heaven, are not ashamed nor afraid to praise God, and in his name to do battle for the rights and truths symbolized by the Star-spangled Banner.

STRENGTH OF THE RULING PASSION.

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XVI. STRENGTH OF THE RULING PASSION.

In one of the wards of a field hospital at Gettysburg, a young soldier of the Massachusetts Second, who had been shot through the lungs, lingered a fortnight after the battle. He was cheerful as a believer in Christ, and unoppressed by the fear of death.

It was difficult for him to breathe, but he never complained. All was done for him that kindness and skill could suggest. A soldier-loving chaplain spent many hours ministering to his temporal and spiritual wants, holding up Jesus to the eye of his faith, and remaining with him during that memorable night when he yielded up his life for his country, and his spirit to Him who redeemed it. His languid eye kindled as often as he heard the name of Jesus, and his countenance reflected the peace with which he rested there.

He expressed a wish that he "could pray again with his mother;" and wondered that no one came from home to visit him. At length, greatly to his relief, a dear brother arrived, whom he was longing to see. During most of the time, he manifested the sweetest composure and Christian tenderness. At other times, his mind wandered. Vivid recollections of the battle-field came over him, and in his delirium he enacted a pantomime of the deadly strife.

The ruling idea of the soldier's life seemed to take possession of his imagination, and there was witnessed an imitation of the battle, most vivid and life-like.

He went through the whole manual of loading and firing; the flashing of his dying eye and the nervous vigor of his trembling hands gave fearful interest to the supposed encounter with the foe.

Being assured that the enemy was gone, he became