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[138] chapel. It was pathetic to see him-his congregation still more so. It consisted mainly of poor wounded soldiers from the hospitals, especially in the afternoon, when there were no services in the other churches. They came, some limping on crutches, some with scarred and mangled faces, some with empty sleeves, nearly all with poor, emaciated bodies, telling their mute tale of sickness and suffering, weariness and heartache. I saw one poor lame fellow leading a blind one, who held on to his crutch. Another had a blind comrade hanging upon one arm while an empty sleeve dangled where the other ought to be. I have seen men since I came here with both eyes shot out, men with both arms off, and one poor fellow with both arms and a leg gone. What can our country ever do to repay such sacrifice? And yet, it is astonishing to see how cheerful these brave fellows are, especially Cousin Bolling's patients, who laughingly dub themselves “The blind brigade.” I went to the Baptist Church with the Joyner girls at night. Metta and I were more amused than edified during the sermon by hearing ourselves discussed in whispers by some people directly behind us. Two of them got into a dispute as to which was the best looking, but we could not hear how they decided it. One of them suggested that we were twins, and this gave me a good laugh on Mett, who is so much younger and better-looking than I, that the comparison was not at all flattering to her.
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