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‘ [271] more's the pity if you are violating the law against gambling which you helped to make, or at least are sworn to support. My orders are imperative, and you cannot pass.’

‘I will do so, sir; you have no right to arrest a citizen,’ he retorted, as he attempted to push by me.

But when I brought my gun to a “charge bayonets,” and threatened to put my bayonet in him if he attempted to ‘force the guard,’ he desisted with loud protests and imprecations, and we marched the whole party up to Colonel Hill's quarters, the Hon. Mr. Law-maker (and law-breaker) heading the column.

Oh! for one day of A. P. Hill—the chivalrous soldier who always did his duty—in our towns and cities now, that he might close the vile gambling dens which our city authorities can never find, but which (unless they are shamefully slandered) some of our law-makers (and law-breakers) do find, to their shame and ruin.

At this period the sanctity of the Sabbath was recognized by but few—many professed Christians made shipwreck of their faith and became ringleaders in every species of vice—and wickedness of every description held high carnival in our camps.

Comparatively little was done to counteract these evil influences. There were at this time but few chaplains in the army, and it must be confessed that some of these were utterly worthless, and that but few of them appreciated the importance or the fruitfulness of the field if properly cultivated. There were exceptions to this, and here and there faithful labors were crowned with some measure of success. But the general moral picture of the army during the autumn of 1861, and the winter of 1861– 62, was dark indeed.

A faithful chaplain thus put it, in a letter to the Religious Herald:

But, O! brethren, the great trial of being in the army is not its hard bread, its weary marches, its cheerless bivouacs, or even its absence from the loved ones at home. It is the having to see and hear, all the time, such abounding wickedness. One constantly has his blood curdled by oaths you can't conceive, or hears foul language that makes him blush for his common humanity. Often, though not so ‘righteous’ as Lot, like Lot, he has his “soul vexed” at the wickedness of those around him, and like the patriarch cries, “O that I had wings like a dove, that I ”

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