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10 THE GRAY AND THE BLUE I earnestly invite the assistance of the surviving chaplains and soldiers of both armies to furnish The Golden Age with incidents and other informa tion through which the people of our country may learn that the religious life of the men who offered up themselves in battle was not neglected. The subject, by its very nature, is exhaustible. Within a year the story can be told. Soldiers who were witnesses are passing away. I beg that this call for assistance may be heeded in the spirit in which it is given. Clement A. Evans. Religious Character of Jefferson Davis. The reputation of great men for the brilliancy of their achievements on whatever distinguished theme, is very much enhanced by the religious quali ties they possessed. The life of Mr. Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, has been eulogized for the ability and integrity displayed in civil office, and also by his courage and skill in military ser vice. The address of Dr. Charles Minnegerode, rector of St. Paul’s church, Richmond, Va., delivered in ISS9, after the death of Mr. Davis, as a eulogy on the deceased ex-president’s character, contains tes timony of value in the matter of religious life. One extract from the address is pertinent to the purpose of the article, and will be very interesting to all who delight to know that any of our distinguished countrymen “died in the faith.” Dr. Minnegerode said: “It was after his inauguration, (as President of the Confederacy), that he united himself with the Church. Our intercourse had become very frequent and turned more on the subject of religion, and by his wife’s advice, I went to see him on the subject of confessing Christ. He met me more than half way, and expressed his desire to do so, and unite himself with the Church—that he must be a Chris tian he felt in his utmost soul. He spoke very humb ly and most humbly of needing the cleansing blood of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit, but in the consciousness of his inefficiency, felt some doubt as to the right course to pursue. When the day of confirmation came, he was the first to rise and, as it were, to lead the others on, among whom were General Gorgas and several other officers. From that day, so far as I can know and judge, he never looked back.” Dr. Minnegerode visited Mr. Davis in prison, and in referring to those visits he says: “I loved that lowly, patient, God-fearing soul. It was in those private interviews I learned to appreciate his noble Christian character. At last the question of the Holy Communion came up. He was anxious to take the communion, but there was one difficulty. Could he take it in the proper forgiving spirit? I left him to settle that question, and in the afternoon I found Mr. Davis with his mind all made up. I found him ready to commune. Then came the communion. It was night. I cannot conceive of a more solemn scene.” Dr. Minnegerode also tells of the scene after the release of Mr. Davis on hail, when he had gone to Mrs. Davis at the Spottswood Hotel. “Mr. Davis turned to me and said, ‘Mr. Minne gerode, you who have been with me and comforted me with your prayers, is it not right that we now once more should kneel down together and return thanks?’ There was not a dry eye in the room. Mrs Davis led the way into the adjoining room, and there, in heart-felt prayer and thanksgiving, closed the story of Jefferson Davis’ prison life.” •Bishop J. C. Keener, of the Methodist church, closed a sermon. December 8, 1889, with a eulogy on the life of Mr. Davis, in which he said: “It was my good fortune to know Mr. Davis intimately. He at- IN PRAYER AND SONG By General Clement A. Evans The Golden Age for April 5, 1906. tended our Seashore Campmeeting, and ate at my tent. He was a sincere believer in the Christian religion. He listened to the Word, and to the expe riences of the people of God with reverent interest.” General George Wallace Jones, of Dußuque, 0., was a class-mate of Jefferson Davis at the Tran sylvania University, and his intimate friend through life. They were associated in the Black Hawk war, Mr. Davis being a lieutenant in the regular army, and Mr. Wallace Jones in the volunteers from Michigan. General Jones was afterwards senator from Ohio, when Mr. Davis was secretary of war during the administration of President Pierce. Through all these years their friendship had con tinued. In an interview, Mr. Jones was asked about his recollections of Mr. Davis, and replied that “aside from the high moral tone and unswerving devotion to conscience, which characterized his whole career, Mr. Davis was too gentle and refined to have any taste for vice or immorality in any form. He never was under the influence of liquor, and he never gambled.” General Harvey once said that everybody who knew Jefferson Davis, knew that he never gam bled in his life. He always looked upon gambling with special aversion. Judge James Campbell, of Pennsylvania, who served with Mr. Davis in Pierce’s Cabinet, from 1853 to 1857, and was intimately associated with him, says that he was very quiet and domestic in his tastes, and exceedingly temper ate both in eating and drinking. The strong remark of Judge Reagan, the last .member of his Cabinet, will suffice to complete the portraiture of Mr. Davis, drawn by those who knew him best. Judge Reagan testifies: “He was the most devout Christian, and the most self-sacrificing man I ever knew.” The Baltimore Grays. Eighty-seven young boys of Baltimore ran the blockade and made a company in the Maryland line. Ail were merely boys, and their young leader was spoken of as the “Girlish-ifaeed captain.” They were nearly all killed in defending the post at which they were placed in position, and told to stay. The following are the closing lines of Butler Brayse Minor, published in The Confederate Vet eran : By some fatal blunder our left was exposed, And by thousands of federals the boys were in closed ; They asked for no quarter, their Maryland blood Never dreamed of surrender, they fell where they stood. We heard in the distance the firing and noise, And doubled-quicked back to the help of tjie boys. The guns were soon ours; but 0, what a sight! Every Baltimore boy had been killed in the fight, Save the girlish-faced captain, and he scarce alive. When he saw us around him he seemed to revive, And smiled when we told him the field had been won, And the Baltimore Grays had saved every gun. Then Stonewall rode up and endeavored to speak, But his utterance was choked, and down his bronzed cheek The hot tears flowed, as he gazed on the dead. “God pity their mothers and sisters!” he said; Then, dismounting, he knelt on the blood-sodden sand, And prayed while he held the dying boy’s hand. The gallant young hero said: “General, I knew That the Grays to your orders would always be true; You’ll miss not a Gray from our final call; Look around you, General—you’ll here find us all.” The blood gushed from his mouth, his head sank on his breast, And the girlish-faced captain lay dead with the rest. My Mother’s Song. When the evening prayers were said, And the sun-set’s lingering glow, Fell aslant the nursery bed, Mother’s voice sang soft and low, Rare lullabies of cradles swung, In mystic trees, by zephyrs free, Then, oh, a wondrous thing she sung, About a Man who died for me. Sung the simple, touching story, How the Lord of earth and sky, Left his Father’s home in glory, On the cross to bleed and die. Long I thought in childish wonder, Felt, though strange, it true must be, In a far-off country yonder, Once a Man had died for me. Soon sweet infancy had vanished, Left behind the nursery walls, From the dear home circle banished, Thence to dwell in learning’s halls; ’Neath the reaching truths of college, Many childish fancies flee, Still I treasured most this knowledge, Once a Man had died for me. Then manhood’s estate I entered, With its work, its hopes, and fears, Striving for desires long centered, On those roseate colored years. When assailed by worldly pleasure, When the tempter’s power I’d flee, Strength was gained in boundless measure, Through the Man who died for me. Swiftly came the noonday hour, Gone the morning of life’s day. Some hopes blossomed into flowers, Others treasures slipped away, Sometimes honor, fame, and glory, Oft-times sorrow’s raging sea, All things changed, except the story Os that Man who died for me. Gone are now bright morn and noon-tide, Paler grows the evening light, Fast I’m slipping down the hillside, Soon to bid old earth good-night; For the heavenly choirs are singing, And the darkening shadows flee, Again I’ll hear my mother singing, And see the Man who died for me. —Amelia Arnold Heidt. Jenny Lind’s Debt. A clergyman found Jenny Lind one morning, af ter having given a charity concert, counting and sealing the money preparatory to distributing it among the poor, and began to compliment her upon her goodness, but she cut him short by saying: “It is the only return I can make to the Lord for His gift bestowed upon me, which is the great joy of my life.” Her motive in visiting America was to earn thirty-six thousand pounds to educate the poor children of Stockholm, whose great ignorance and degradation she keenly felt, praying daily to be spared three years to fulfil her plans.—Young Eng land. We notice a paragraph in one of the daily news papers to the effect that the people would be better off if the papers would cut out highly sensational stories. This brings up the question again of where the responsibility lies—on the press or the people who read. If the people refused to publish we would escape, or, on the other hand, if the public refused to accept the stuff. Either way would be safe; but as it is, we play into each other’s hands so amicably there would seem to be little prospect of reform.