and on the next day the scale was turned against the enemy. Our troops followed the foe to Corinth, Miss. which was evacuated on the 29th.

The history of this battle is especially rich in incidents. Mr. Moody, who went, as usual, from the Chicago Branch, recalls two stories of his service:

A Surgeon going over the field to bandage bleeding wounds, came upon a soldier lying in his blood with his face to the ground. Seeing the horrible wound in his side and the death pallor on his face, he was passing on to attend to others, when the dying man called him with a moan to come just for a moment, he wanted to be turned over. The Doctor lifting the mangled body as best he could, laid the poor fellow on his back. A few moments after, while dressing wounds near by, he

heard him say—

"This is glory, this is glory!"

Dying with Face Upwards.

Supposing it was the regret of a dying soldier, correcting, in this scene of carnage, his former estimate of the "pomp and circumstance of war," the Surgeon put his lips to his ear and asked—

“What is glory, my dear fellow?"

"O Doctor, it's glory to die with my face upward!" and moving his hand feebly, his forefinger set, as if he would point the heavenly way, he made his last earthly sign.

"Even So must He be Lifted up."

There was a man on one of the boat-loads of wounded from the field, who was very low and in a kind of stupor. He was entirely unknown. A little stimulant was poured down his throat, and Mr. Moody called him by different names, but could get no response. At last, at the name "William," the man unclosed his eyes and looked up. Some more stimulant was given, when he revived. Christian. Though replying in the negative, he yet manifested great anxiety upon the subject:

He was asked if he was a

"But I am so great a sinner that I can't be a Christian."

Mr. Moody told him he would read what Christ said about that. So, turning to St. John's third chapter, he read the 14th verse: "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so

must the Son of Man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God so loved the world, that He gave His Only Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

"Stop," said the dying man; "read that over again, will you ?" It was read again.

"Is that there?"

"Yes," said Mr. Moody; "that's there just as I read it to you." "And did Christ say that?"

"Yes."

The man began repeating the words, settling back upon his pillow as he did so, with a strange, solemn look of peace in his face. He took no further notice of what was going on about him, but continued murmuring the blessed words until Mr. Moody left him.

The next morning, when the soldier's place was visited, it was found empty. Mr. Moody asked if any one knew aught about him during the night. A nurse, who had spent the hours with him until he died, replied

"All the time I was with him he was repeating something about Moses lifting up a serpent in the wilderness. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him, but he only answered what he had been muttering all along. Just before he died, about midnight, I saw his lips moving, though there was no sound escaping. I thought he might have some dying message for home, so I asked him for one. But the only answer was the whispered words; 'As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in Him'-and so on until his voice died away and his lips moved no longer."

Rev. Dr. Robert Patterson writes:

A brave and godly Captain in one of our Western regiments told one of us his story, as we were removing him to the hospital. He was shot through both thighs with a rifle bullet-a wound from which he could not recover. While lying on the field, he suffered intense agony from thirst. He supported his head upon his hand, while the rain from heaven was falling around him. In a little time, quite a pool of water

Songs on the Battle-field.

collected in the hole made by his elbow. If he could only get to that puddle he could quench his thirst. He tried to get into a position to suck up a mouthful of muddy water, but was unable to quite reach it. Said he, "I never felt such disappointment before,—so needy, so near, and yet so helpless. By-and-by night fell, and the stars shone out clear and beautiful above the dark field; and I began to think of the great God, who had given His Son to die a death of agony for me, and that He was up there-up above the scene of suffering, and above those glorious stars; and I felt that I was going home to meet Him, and praise Him there; and that I ought to praise Him, here in my wounds and in the rain; and I began to sing with my parched lips

"When I can read my title clear

To mansions in the skies,

I bid farewell to every fear,

And wipe my weeping eyes.'

There was a Christian brother in the brush near me. I could not see him, but I could hear him. He took up the strain; and beyond him another and another caught it up, all over the battle-field of Shiloh ; and long into the night the echo was resounding, as we made the field of battle ring with hymns of praise to God.”

It was a solemn place indeed, that interval on Sunday night between the two contending armies, which were to assail each other on the morrow. Mr. Demond2 pre

1 A Delegate writing in September, 1863, after the Chickamauga battle, says: "If anybody thinks that when our men are stricken upon the field, they fill the air with cries and groans, till it shivers with such evidence of agony, he greatly errs. An arm is shattered, a leg carried away, a bullet pierces the breast, and the soldier sinks down silently upon the ground, or creeps away, if he can, without a murmur or complaint-falls as the sparrow falls, speechlessly; and like that sparrow, I earnestly believe, falls not without the Father's care. The dying horse gives out his fearful utterance of almost human suffering, but the mangled rider is dumb. The crash of musketry, the crack of rifles, the roar of guns, the shriek of shells, the Rebel whoop, the Federal cheer, with an indescribable undertone of grinding, rumbling and splintering, make up the voices of the battle-field." 2 Address at the Closing Exercises of the Commission at the Capitol.