the blood of the Lamb.' If it was God's will," he solemnly added, "I would like to live longer, but His will be done."

Rev. G. C. Noyes1 adds another incident:

Passing from one cot to another, I came to a man whose hair and beard were gray. I spoke to him, cheerfully:

"Your gray hairs show that you ought to be a soldier of Jesus, but not a soldier of the Government."

He caught first at the imputation in the last part of my remark:

Complete in Christ Jesus.

"I don't think, sir, any man in my regiment has done the Government more faithful service than I. I never lost a day by sickness."

"Fifty-two; and my term of three years expires Sept. 12th." “What is the matter with you now?"

Turning down the counterpane, I saw that his right arm was amputated close to the shoulder, and his right leg close to the knee. He had been shot in the leg before Atlanta on August 7th, and as he was being borne from the field, another ball struck him in the arm.

"Giving an arm and a leg for the country," said he, "is no great gift for one to whom Jesus has given all things. It is a free offering. He will accept the sacrifice; and all the more bless the cause for which it was offered up."

He had walked with the Saviour for many years; and I have never seen such exalted patriotism in combination with such victorious faith in Jesus. Physically a mutilated man, he was yet "complete in Christ Jesus." He was mustered out" by the death angel on Sept. 7th, five days before his term of service would have expired; and, I doubt not, with all wounds and hurts healed, is now resting at home.

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Two incidents from the reminiscences of the General Field Agent may close this chapter and the record of the Atlanta campaign:

A soldier came into our rooms in Nashville to get an envelope.

1 Pastor of (N. S.) Presbyterian Church, Laporte, Ind.

He said he had a letter to send home for one of his comrades. He drew from his blouse a small package, carefully

66

Father, Meet

Me in Heaven."

wrapped, and opening it, held up the scrap of a leaf from a memorandum-book. It had bloody finger

prints on it, and a few words hastily written with a pencil. The writer

said he was the soldier's "partner." In the charge on Kenesaw Mountain he found him staggering back from the line, the blood streaming from his mouth, and covering his hands and clothes. A minie ball had cut off his tongue at the root. He tried to speak, but could not. Finally, by motions, he made his partner understand his

want,--paper and pencil. A scrap was torn from the diary; and on it the boy, held up by his comrade, with fingers dripping in blood, and trembling in death, wrote

He tried to write his name, but it was too late; life had fled; where the name should have been was a faint, irregular, vanishing line. Thus do the thoughts of our soldiers, waking, dreaming, dying, turn ever homeward.

After we had occupied Atlanta, a Delegate was sent for by a nurse to see a man who was about to die in one of the warehouse hospitals. He found him a young man of Christian education, but struggling with painful doubts as to the truth of the Bible and

"The Bible, and Mother too."

the way of salvation through Christ. He wanted to believe, but could not. The Delegate had frequent interviews with him, but seemed to make no progress in the attempt to lead him to the Saviour. One night the soldier called the nurse and asked him to set a candle at the foot of the bed, so that the light might strike upon a "Silent Comforter" hanging upon the wall. The leaf that had been turned over for that day bore the verse: "Whoso cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out." In the morning early the soldier again sent for the Delegate and asked him to feel under his pillow for a letter from his mother. It was an affectionate entreaty to her son to accept Christ. As the Delegate read, he came to the words, "Whoso cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out."

"There," said the sick man, "that's what I want. I thought mother said that. Read it again." It was read:

Him. Here, Lord, I give myself up."

So far as could be determined from the few days of remaining earthly experience, it was a genuine surrender of the will to its Lord.

CHAPTER XI.

THE EASTERN ARMIES.

FROM THE INVESTMENT OF PETERSBURG, UNTIL THE CLOSE OF THE WAR.

June 1864-April 1865.

THE movements to get into Petersburg before the main body of Lee's army could arrive to defend it, were unsuccessful. Two assaults, on June 16th and 18th, were repulsed with heavy loss; and the most that could be done was to extend the flanks of the army,-on the north, along the James, towards Richmond, and on the south, towards the Weldon railroad. Towards the close of July advantage was taken of Lee's withdrawal of five divisions of his army to the north of the James to meet demonstrations against Fort Darling, to explode a mine in front of Burnside's Corps. A Rebel fort was blown up, but the succeeding assault was a failure. A fortnight later both flanks were again extended. This time Warren took and held the Weldon road. In the close of September and beginning of October, Warren's lines were again extended at the south, and Fort Harrison, an important Confederate defence to the north of the James, was captured by Gen. Butler. This sanguinary campaign closed with the movement of October 27th, in which all the forces that could be spared from the trenches were thrown against the enemy's works cover

ing Hatcher's Run and the Boydton plank-road. Our forces had the advantage in the fighting, but prudence decided against holding the long, thin line, and by November 1st the army was again about in the position held before the movement.

There was comparative quiet after this, except a permanent extension of the flank to Hatcher's Run in February, 1865, until Lee's attempt in March to cut our army in twain by a well-planned but poorly executed assault on Fort Steedman. Immediately after this began the final movements of Gen. Grant, which resulted, on Sunday, April 2d, in the evacuation of Petersburg and Richmond. One week later the Confederate "Army of Northern Virginia" surrendered.

The incidents of the period covered by these events are of such a character that we shall group them with less regard to the order of their occurrence than we have done in the other chapters. From the account of Rev. E. F. Williams, we take the history of the beginning of the Commission work in its new circumstances:

A station had been established very early in May at Bermuda Hundred, by Mr. J. R. Miller, with a large corps of Delegates. This was for work in Gen. Butler's army. There were two hospitals here, and a number of batteries without Chaplains. At Point of Rocks, four miles up the Appomattox, a hospital was established which remained throughout the war. From Bermuda Hundred, the wounded of Sheridan's cavalry were visited, and large quantities of stores distributed to them. When the Eighteenth Corps went to White House Landing, Mr. Miller and his corps of Delegates accompanied them, establishing there the station which did so much to relieve the wounded.

Delegates and stores reached City Point, June 15th. A station was at once established which existed for more than a year. Here