Chapter 6 - Page 2

brings then nearer to the heart
of things, they were offered the chaff of divinity, and its wheat
was left for less needy gleaners, who knew where to look. Even
the fine old Bible stories, which may be made as lifelike as any
history of our day, by a vivid fancy and pictorial diction, were
robbed of all their charms by dry explanations and literal
applications, instead of being useful and pleasant lessons to
those men, whom weakness had rendered as docile as children in a
father's hands.

I watched the listless countenances all about me, while a mild
Daniel was moralizing in a den of utterly uninteresting lions;
while Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego were leisurely passing
through the fiery furnace, where, I sadly feared, some of us
sincerely wished they had remained as permanencies; while the
Temple of Solomon was laboriously erected, with minute
descriptions of the process, and any quantity of bells and
pomegranates on the raiment of the priests. Listless they were at
the beginning, and listless at the end; but the instant some
stirring old hymn was given out, sleepy eyes brightened, lounging
figures sat erect, and many a poor lad rose up in his bed, or
stretch an eager hand for the book, while all broke out with a
heartiness that proved that somewhere at the core of even the
most abandoned, there still glowed some remnant of the native
piety that flows in music from the heart of every little child.
Even the big rebel joined, and boomed away in a thunderous bass,
singing--

"Salvation! let the echoes fly,"

as energetically as if he felt the need of a speedy execution of
the command.

That was the pleasantest moment of the hour, for then it seemed a
homelike and happy spot; the groups of men looking over one
another's shoulders as they sang; the few silent figures in the
beds; here and there a woman noiselessly performing some
necessary duty, and singing as she worked; while in the arm chair
standing in the midst, I placed, for my own satisfaction, the
imaginary likeness of a certain faithful pastor, who took all
outcasts by the hand, smote the devil in whatever guise he came,
and comforted the indigent in spirit with the best wisdom of a
great and tender heart, which still speaks to us from its Italian
grave. With that addition, my picture was complete; and I often
longed to take a veritable sketch of a Hospital Sunday, for,
despite its drawbacks, consisting of continued labor, the want of
proper books, the barren preaching that bore no fruit, this day
was never like the other six.

True to their home training, our New England boys did their best
to make it what it should be. With many, there was much reading
of Testaments, humming over of