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[401] steps at a time. He thought the sergeant's heart had failed him. He was mistaken. The sergeant stopped at the door and said: “General, can I show a white handkerchief?” The general slowly shook his head, saying emphatically, “No, Kirkland, you can't do that.” “All right,” he said, “I'll take the chances,” and ran down with a bright smile on his handsome countenance.

With profound anxiety he was watched as he stepped over the wall on his errand of mercy—Christ-like mercy. Unharmed he reached the nearest sufferer. He knelt beside him, tenderly raised the drooping head, rested it gently upon his own noble breast, and poured the precious life-giving fluid down the feverscorched throat. This done, he laid him tenderly down, placed his knapsack under his head, straightened out his broken limb, spread his overcoat over him, replaced his empty canteen with a full one, and turned to another sufferer. By this time his purpose was well understood on both sides, and all danger was over. From all parts of the field arose fresh cries of “water, water; for God's sake, water!” More piteous still the mute appeal of some who could only feebly lift a hand to say there, too, was life and suffering.

For an hour and a half did this ministering angel pursue his labor of mercy, nor ceased to go and return until he relieved all the wounded on that part of the field. He returned to his post wholly unhurt. Who shall say how sweet his rest that winter's night beneath the cold stars!

Little remains to be told. Sergeant Kirkland distinguished himself in battle at Gettysburg, and was promoted lieutenant. At Chickamauga he fell on the field of battle, in the hour of victory. He was but a youth when called away, and had never formed those ties from which might have resulted a posterity to enjoy his fame and bless his country; but he has bequeathed to the American youth—yea, to the world—an example which dignifies our common humanity.

Want of space compels me to pass by altogether other illustrations of the genuineness of these revivals, and to cull only a few of the hundreds of incidents I have, showing how these men met ‘the king of terrors.’

A noble fellow who fell at Gaines's Mill, the 27th of June, 1862, said to comrades who offered to bear him to the rear: ‘No! I die. Tell my parents I die happy. On! on to victory! Jesus is with me, and will give me all the help I need.’

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Twymans Mill (Virginia, United States) (1)

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June 27th, 1862 AD (1)
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