experience might remain. But nobody moved yet

so we had a

Wright rose

whole tent full. The soldiers were invited to speak. promptly and told the story which he had related to me in the afternoon; and after that we had no lack of them. The Lord seemed to be indeed present with us.

Prayer Meetings on the Great March.

With that service began a revival. A fact remarkable to us was developed in these meetings, and this was that there had been a succession of revivals in the army all the way round from Chattanooga. Various places were spoken of which had been the scenes of deep interest,-Dalton, Goldsboro', Raleigh, among others. Some of the men had agreed to hold meetings every night of the long and perilous march.1 These were often held under peculiar difficulties; many a time the soldiers gathered in the dark, where they did not dare to have fires. I never heard men speak more ably or with deeper earnestness than did these. In those solemn, quiet meetings of the "great march," held under such dangers, they seemed to have entered into the meaning of the Psalmist's song: "Whoso dwelleth under the defence of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt be safe under His feathers. His faithfulness and truth shall be thy shield and buckler." And so, when they came into the country of safety, their song was: "Oh, what great troubles and adversities hast Thou showed me! and yet didst Thou turn and refresh me; yea, and broughtest me from the deep of the earth again. My praise shall be always of Thee.”

A Wet Meeting.

Every night from three to fifteen men came forward for prayers. Our chapel tent was filled at every meeting until the camp broke up. One night I remember we had a tremendous thunder-storm. My impression was that it would be useless to hold a service. I wrapped myself up to keep out of the drenching rain and stepped over to the chapel. It was two-thirds full. The rain was dripping through the canvas. The water chased itself across the ground like a mill-race; and the men had to keep their feet out of it as best they could. The candles spluttered and died out as fast as they were lit; and excepting one or two which we managed to keep burning at the desk, we were in utter

1 For instance, in the 3d Brig., 2d Div., of the Twentieth Corps, such prayer meetings were held every night, from Tennessee to Washington.

darkness. Yet we not only had the regular service, but a prayer meeting afterwards also, and two new recruits for Christ came forward to ask our special petitions.

The men told many precious incidents of the Christian intercourse they had had during the long march. Once after a skirmish, a soldier told me, they held one of their usual night prayer meetings. The wounded were being brought in and cared for as the soldiers were singing a hymn. A poor young lad, fatally wounded, was among the number. As they came up, they said to him—

Dying Close to the Prayer meeting.

"You are pretty badly wounded, ai'n't you?”

"Yes," said he; "almost gone; but didn't I hear some singing?” "Yes; we had a little prayer meeting."

""Tain't any use carrying me to the hospital; if you'll just carry me up to the tent, near the prayer meeting, that'll do. I would like to die up there."

The soldiers carried him tenderly to the place; he lay there listening to the singing and the prayers until he died.

A Missionary in the Ranks.

up

Across the river from Provisional Camp was encamped the Fourteenth Corps. After the grand review we established ourselves among them. We had many cases of interest. I remember one rather remarkable incident of a soldier named John H. Shay, Co. F, 104th Illinois Regt. He had saved five hundred dollars from his army pay, which he proposed using to have himself educated for a missionary after his discharge. His story awakened a deep interest in our meeting one evening, as he told it—omitting reference to the money he had saved -in a peculiarly simple and artless way. He spoke so gently of his having no earthly home; and then, with faith and trust shining out of his eyes, he said he had One Friend who, he knew, would never forsake him or go away from him. His parents had been Roman Catholics.

Emanuel A, Co. F, 31st Ohio, had the reputation of being the most accomplished gambler in his regiment. He was a fearfully intemperate man also, and as profane as intemperate. He rose for prayers one evening, to our general astonishment. Curious, Angry, Afterwards he told me something of his experience. He had heard about the meetings, and so came one

Convicted.

night out of curiosity to hear the singing. He sat down on the grass outside of the tent to listen. By-and-bye something was said which he felt inclined to regard as a personal affront. He got very angry and rose to stalk away. A comrade followed him out and told him that was not the way to leave, "like a coward." So he was prevailed on to go back. Again something sharp in the address came across him, and again he started off in anger. His cområde, himself not a Christian, stuck to him, and shamed him back again. This time something riveted his deepest attention. He began to feel there was some trouble within. He went away at the close of the meeting feeling all crushed down; carried his load for a day or two, and felt as if he must return to the meetings to confess his sins. He soon found out the way of peace, and coming into the meeting, asked prayers most earnestly in behalf of the "partner" who had urged him back to the chapel when he was going away cross.

The success of our revival work was due more than anything else to the religious element among the men, to the Christian spirit of those who had held to their prayer meetings during the march from Atlanta.

With two incidents, occurring near the close of the work in Washington hospitals, we bid adieu to the men who conquered with Sherman and Grant.

The first is related by Rev. Mr. Goodwin:

"Forward, Double-Quick, March!"

In Ward 75 of Carver Hospital, Washington, I found John Gillespie, a Pennsylvania soldier, who had lost a leg in one of the recent engagements before Richmond. His father was present and sat at his side, holding his hand. The soldier was in a deep stupor; various efforts had been made to rouse him up; when the Chaplain and I came in, we continued them, but he seemed too far gone to heed us. A little circle of comrades in the mean time had gathered round the cot. I offered a short prayer, and then we all stood a while watching for any change which might occur, momently expecting the sufferer to expire. Suddenly one of his comrades said eagerly that he thought he was going to speak. There was evidently a kindling up of the little life which was left in him. After trying to clear his

throat and mouth a little, at first only faintly articulating, "Forward," he at last broke out, as though he were again at the head of his company

66

Double-quick," and then "March" came out short and quick and

clear.

The effort had exhausted his last remaining strength. A dull weight fell back upon the pillow. He was dead.

The last is related by Rev. Edward P. Smith:

Three Unimproved Years.

Lieutenant Wood, of a Maine regiment in the Army of the Potomac, was on his way to the "grand review.” He had gone through the war without a wound, and even without hospital experience. At the last camp-halt his division made before reaching Washington, as he stood in his tent door, he was mortally wounded by the accidental discharge of a gun. He was brought into Campbell Hospital. When I found him he was apparently peaceful in the immediate prospect of death. He had enlisted as a Christian, but while he had kept an unsullied reputation for uprightness and integrity, yet he had not been distinctly known in the regiment as a Christian; and this was now his bitter grief. He wanted to live to see his family again, but more, far more, he said, to recover lost opportunities. He sent for his fellowofficers, told them his mistake and asked their forgiveness; while he trusted in the Saviour for his own forgiveness.

"I die as a Christian," he said to me, "and I die contented; but, oh, if I could have died as a Christian worker !"

"I am peaceful and assured in view of death," he said again, "but I am not joyful and glad; those three lost years keep coming back upon me;" then lying a moment quiet with closed eyes, he added, "Chaplain, do you suppose we shall be able to forget anything in heaven? I would like to forget those three years.'

CHAPTER XV.

THE PRISONERS IN THE SOUTH.

WITH NOTICES OF THOSE WHO RETURNED TO ANNAPOLIS.

Our purpose throughout this volume has been to give a representative, and not an exhaustive, collection of incidents. We do not propose to deviate from that plan in this chapter; nor to enter into the history of the Southern prisons; but to group a few narratives,-especially of the religious life of the men who suffered in them. The best method of presentation is the general one of our chapters, the chronological.

Rev. C. C. McCabe,1 Chaplain of 121st Ohio Regiment, was taken prisoner with the Regimental Surgeon in June, 1863, after Gen. Milroy's abandonment of Winchester. The news of Gettysburg was brought to Libby Prison, where the Chaplain was confined. He tells how the prisoners received it :

I had a relative in Richmond, a staunch Rebel. The day they received the first tidings from Gettysburg he came to see me, his face wreathed in smiles:

How we heard of Gettysburg in

"Forty thousand Yankee prisoners in the Valley Libby.

on their way to Richmond!"

1 Member of Ohio Conference, Meth. Epis. Church. Chaplain McCabe was afterwards a collecting agent for the Commission, principally in the West.