ceased Bishop Capers, of the Southern Methodist Church.
The benches and the pulpit have to be removed from the house, and a dense multitude of hearers crown the chapel hill.
A clear, strong voice starts a familiar old hymn, soon thousands of voices chime in, and the evening air is burdened with a great song of praise.
The preacher now enters the stand, a thousand voices are hushed, a thousand hearts are stilled, to hear the word of the Lord.
Perhaps the speaker is Rev. William Burr, of Tennessee.
As he rises with his theme, his silvery, trumpet-like voice, clear as a bugle note, rings far out over the mass of men, and hundreds sob with emotion as he reasons with them of righteousness, of temperance, and a judgment to come.
At the close of the sermon, hundreds bow in penitence and prayer, many are converted, tattoo beats — the men disperse to their cabins, not to sleep, but to pray and sing with their sorrowing comrades; and far into the night the camps are vocal with the songs o