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[37] for some time before his sickness had shown so many signs of piety, and died acknowledging his love to the Saviour, and supported by this love now ‘sleeps in Jesus.’—Central Presbyterian.

Dr. Cross, chaplain of the Walker Legion, writes to one of his church papers: ‘It is interesting to see how they flock to our nightly prayer-meetings, frequently in greater numbers than your Sabbath congregations in some of your city churches. I preach to them twice on the Lord's day, seated around me on the ground, officers and all, in the most primitive order you can imagine. But the most interesting, probably the most useful part of my work, is the visitation of the sick. Every morning 1 go to the hospital, visiting the several apartments successively; in each of which I talk privately with the men, then read a passage of Scripture, make some remarks upon it, and finish with prayer. However wicked and thoughtless they are in camp they are all glad to see the chaplain when they are sick, and I have yet to meet one who is not most respectful and attentive. I think I have never occupied a field that afforded such an opportunity for usefulness.’

A soldier wrote for the Southern Churchman the following:

A Guardian Spirit passed through a group of soldiers who lay stretched on the ground, some exchanging together in broken converse such thoughts as their situation suggested, some in the deep slumber of weariness, forgetting both danger and toil. Unchallenged by the watchful sentinel he approached one manly form extended on the ground and gazed with interest on the sunburnt features and the thoughtful, sunken eye which was fixed on the descending sun.

Soldier.—That sun which is setting on us in such full glory is now smiling on my own sweet home, casting its slanting beams upon the daisy-spangled meadow where my little ones are at play; on the rich green wheat-fields and many-colored orchards; and shining on the peaceful village churchyard, where my bones may never be laid. How those dear hearts at home are thinking of us now! How many prayers are daily offered for our safety! But the bright eyes may soon be bathed in tears; the fond hearts be wrung with sorrow! O God! my God! Thou knowest that I can face death—face it firmly, fearlessly; but my soul quails at the thought of what others will suffer! Who will comfort my broken-hearted mother? Who will take care of my precious orphan babes?

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