The soldier's friend. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1863-1???, January 24, 1863, Image 1
THE SOLDIER’S FRIEND.
BY A. S. WORRELL.
(Drifliiial. j
A Fairy Visit- \
NO. 111.
From the presence of Him who sits i
upon the eternal throne and from the \
vast assembly of saints and angels, Vir
tue and her twin sister, Prudence, de
scended to earth, to note some of the
affairs of mortals. [The reader should i
understand that “Fairies,” when they
travel in their real character, go with
the speed of thought, or as rapidly as (
a charge on the telegraphic wire ; but <
when they assume human form, they j
travel in the ordinary pace of mortal,
except that they always move grace- \
fully, energetically, ami as if they had
some important mission to perform.]
After visiting many places, they at
length, in passing by a small log cabin,
heard the voice of a female, urgently \
import uning God for something. Ap- /
proaching nearer, they distinctly heard >
these words: “<) Lord, have mercy )
upon my poor son in the army ; re
strain him from those vices which over- /
whelm and ruin many of the young; *
may he avoid all wicked associations—
shim the degraded gambler, the pro
fane swearer, the drunkard and him I
who drinks strong drink as a beverage >
—help him to refrain from the use of
every impure word, and to discouute- }
nance others who use them. Preserve
him from every impure feeling, every (
wicked or idle world, and endow him /
with wisdom and prudence from on
high, that he may, while in the ser- <
vice of his country, lead a life ®f virtue <
and happiness, and return to his home /
UncomaiuiiEm u by ally vice. 31 J
The suppliant now arose from her
knees, ami returned in the direction of /
her humble abode, when the two Sis- )
sere met her. They had a brief con ver- <
satioD with her, learned where her son (
was, and bade her a hasty adieu, re- (
solved to visit the camp where the dear [
boy was. Quick as resolved, they were
in the encampment, walking about out- (
side of the sentinel’s line. Presently
they met a sentinel walking his line, j
who had the bearing of a true soldier. ;
The Sisters could but admire him.— ‘
Prudence said to Virtue, “ Look how j
neat his dress is ! how clean his per- <
son! how gracefully he steps! how <
much like a soldier does he carry his J
gun ! That young man will distinguish j
himself!”
“Yes,” said Virtue in a strain of ad- <
miration, “that is a tine soldier. What j
dignity of person! His very counte- ]
nance speaks of the noble principles <
within his generous bosom. His bright <
sparkling eyes show that he has never <
contaminated his soul by participating !
in any of those low vices which, alas!
pollute so many of the old and young.
I venture the assertion that he does
not spend his time in idleness, or in
the pursuit of the light and trivial.—
A noble soldier, indeed !” “I venture <
farther 1 ” continued Prudence, “that <
this young soldier enjoys good health 1 ' (
for his person and clothing are so neat {
and clean—that he enjoys the confidence *
and love of his officers ; for he is so <
calm and free from rashness—and that <
he enjoys sweet peace of mind, since,
from his very countenance, as you say, j
we may' certainly conclude that he is
possessed of the noble principles which
dear Sister, make you so happy, and <
so much admired. If every soldier was j
like him, there would be no need of <
sentinels to keep the soldiers within <
their encampments ; for their virtuous j
principles would not let them go away j
except when they are compelled.— j
There would be no pigs, turkeys, chick
ens, potatoes, apples, or anything else
stolen ; for their honesty, as a faithful
guard, would protect them from all
such crimes. Nor would there be any
fear that the enemy would rout them ;
for their gallantry, strengthened by |
every noble and generous impulse,
would make them invincible!”
“FIGHT THE LORD’S RATTLES.”
Passing along the line farther, they
inquired who the noble soldier could !
be, and on learning that he was the (
son of the poor widow woman who <
prayed so devoutly for her son, Vir- !
tue said, “Noble son of a noble moth- (
er ! The saying of The Eternal Father <
is true, “Train up a child in the way ;
he should go, and when he gets old he !
will not depart from it.” “The youth J
who commits himself to my care, shall ;
be honored. His “ways are ways of :
pleasantness, and all,” his “paths are
peace.”
“But,” asked Prudence, “may not
a young man in the army, surrounded )
by so many vices, depart from the paths
of Virtue and Prudence, even though j
his parents taught him to walk in these (
paths when young ?”
“Tagree,” answered Virtue, “that
those who have been only partially
trained to walk in our paths, may be
enticed away under the influence of
strong temptation; but if they have i
been trained up, from their infancy, to
observe all my principles, when they
grow old, they will not forsake them.”
Casting their eyes a little to one side
they saw a soldier sitting on a log, dir
ty, filthy and seemingly much distress- (
ed. Going near him, Prudence ad- <
dressed him thus: “Gentle soldier! I
am sorry there is no water near you. t
Your face is all beclouded with smoke, (
and your clothing is so filthy, I fear it S
will make you sick.”
“Plenty of water,” murmured the
soldier, “but I was never accustomed
to wash, and I have no money to pay (
others to do it.” {
“But,” said Prudence, would it not J
be better for you to do yourself what j
needs to be done, and what you can (
not get others to do? T would not )
throw myself away because of being a
soldier.”
“Perhaps, madam, yon will do my
washing for me, retorted the angry sol- ;
dier. Whereupon the Sisters immedi
ately left him in disgust.
’
[For the Soldiers’ Friend.
Camp ijelow Fhkdeiiicksbuko, )
December 28th, 1862. f
This is the last Sabbath of the event- i
ful year eighteen hundred and sixty
two, a fit time to “cast up accounts” 1
and bring to the unchangeable stan
dard of righteousness, the deeds of the
past twelve months; the lines of which
are marked by blood, and whose mem
ories are heavy with the sighs and j
groans of the bereaved and distressed. 1
A year of spiritual gloom and darkness I
in which thousands of God’s people |
have been drawn from the paths of ho- 1
liness and virtue, and in which the I
scorching heat of adversity and trial, ]
ami the thorns of temptation, have 1
withered and choked the seeds which I
had no deepness of earth.
While war is an evil and certainly j
incompatible with the genius of the I
Gospel, God may nevertheless use it ■
as a means to chastise and correct the ]
guilty nations of the earth, whose sins I
have become an abomination in His i
sight. Like the hurricane and thunder j
storm which desolate and destroy, yet I
have their purifying effects upon stag- i
nant and overburdened nature. The j
Confederates cannot feel the guilt 1
which lies at the door of those who
provoked and forced this war upon
us; for in every possible way we sought
the peaceful exercise of that right which
God has guaranteed to all people; the
usurpation of which, we were bound
to resist even at the sacrifice of all that
we possessed, and the lives of thou
sands of our bravest and best sons.
But while we may thus console our
selves in battling for God-given rights,
we cannot shut our eyes to the fearful
scenes and enormities which are enact
ed upon the theatre of war, nor can i
even the hard-hearted fail to deprecate
the flood-tide of evil and woe that fol- J
low in its wake. None perhaps occu- i
py 90 good a stand-point to observe all
these as the surgeon; and so remO
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, JANUARY 24, 1863.
from those influences which engender
the heroism, and add lustre to the
deeds of the field.
To conquer self is a greater and no
bler work than the subduing of our
enemies. What a mournful spectacle
is constantly presented to the behold
er, who sees in our soldiery that c®ur
age and daring that brook the shock
of battle, and that have so oft driv
en back our heartless invaders, yield
ing so quietly and unresistingly to the
approaches and attacks of the great en
emy of souls ! and what is more pain
ful among them are to be seen not a
few of those, who amid the restraints
of home and better influences, were re
garded at least respectable in their pro
fessions of religion. If the effect of the
war religiously, would only be to win
now the chaff from the wheat, there
would be nothing to deplore, but it is
to be feared that many frwe Christians
fall a prey to the ensnaring devices of
the devil, and wicked men in camps.
And even where one does not feel the
influence of those temptations which
commonly lead men astray, it will be
found that the whole tendency ofcamp
life is to chill and freeze the piety
which, under Sabbath, Church and
Home influences, is radiant and potent
for good.
But amid all these distracting and
ruinous influences, corrupting as they
do our spiritual life, there is an occa
sional ray of light, and we need not be
deprived of the hope and consolation
which inspire and rejoice our hearts
under circumstances less adverse to
growth in grace.
Aly heart was gladdened and I could
but weep, in approaching a young man
whose name was Day, from Walker
county, Georgia, belonging to the 60th
Georgia Regiment, and who had been
wounded in the buttle of Fredericks
burg. I saw that he was rapidly fail
ing and that very soon he must change
worlds, I asked him iljfie was religious
and did he trust in the Savior ? He
replied that for several years he had
been trying to live a Christian, and that
he did trust in Jesus. It could be easi
ly seen that the heart was in unison
with his lips; which made me feel that
to claim friendship with Christ in that
last and trying hour, was more than to
illumine the pages of history with deeds
of daring, or possess a world of wealth.
Soon afterwards his heart was hushed
in the stillness of death. A Air. Mil
ner of the 13th Georgia, brother-in-law
of Elder J. Al. Word, in company with
another man, was detailed to carry wa
ter to the Regiment while in line of
battle, and though some distance in
the rear, a solid shot instantly killed
one and nearly tearing Alilner’s left
arm from his body and seriously bruis
ing his side. The shock was great
from which he never fully recovered.
Two days subsequent when it was de
termined to remove his arm already of
fensive, I asked him of his religious
prospects, &e. He answered, “I nev
er made any profession of religion (i.e.)
have never attached myself to any
church, and I have a little family for
whose benefit I desire to live, but in re
gard to the future,” and turning his
eyes up to mine, and with a counte
nance serene and composed, and in
well-measured words said : “I have no
fear.”
How like a little Bethel it seemed,
when those whose lives were fast ebb
ing and before whom the glare of the
world, with all its alluring interests,
was fading, and to whom the realities
of the momentous future were looming
up, they could say: “I trust in Christ,”
and “I have no fear.” I felt to thank
God that He could inspire frail mor
tals, full of sin and weakness, in an
hour which tries the soul; in the face
of that terrible monster death, with
such confidence, such coolness and
fearlessness.
So with all the horrors and wastes
of war, now and then a little green
spot may be found, and though we
know it not as Jacob said, “Surely the
♦Lord is in this place.”
It must not be supposed that because
I have related these incidents, I am
Chaplain, or even doing my duty as a
Christian Surgeon. One of my sorest
reflections is: I have not used my po
sition for good according to the oppor
tunities it gives. No one has such rare
facilities as are frequently presented to
the Surgeon, for serving the cause of
Christ, and certainly s as a class none
improve them less.
.Aly observation is, that Chaplains
are doing but very little good in the
army. The truth is, theroare butfejv
qualified for the position. Many who
might do some good at home, would
utterly fail as Chaplains.
Not a few have sought the position
for a livelihood and are receiving more
money for doing nothing, than they
ever received fpr what little they may
have done at home. A man must com
bine rare qualifications, and observe a
circumspection in his contact with the
soldiery, which only few will do in
camp-life, ifheisto exert any moral
power over men who are thoughtless
awd prone to ridicule religion.
******
No one will deny that the army need
the restraints of undefiled religion, and
the labors of ministers who are adapt
ed to the work; but lam not sure if
it would not be better served by the
voluntary efforts of Christians, who
would be far more likely to make wise
and proper selections, than the Govern
ment appointment. At present the
position is more a sinecure than of love
1 and good works, which damages the
i man who accepts, and is unfortunate
i for the cause which he represents.
[ ‘ Your readers have been fully advised
’ through other channels of the late bat-
> tie of Fredericksburg and its results,
> so that I need not mention them here.
Had Burnside ventured to renew the
j attack on the following day, the car-
> nage would have been far more terri-
> ble to the enemy and the victory more
decisive to us. Our men were content
with their position, and confident of
> success. They leisuvely arranged them
selves in the ditches and behind the ce
dar hedges, and removed every ob
struction that would in the least hin
der the accuracy of their aim, and there
can be no doubt had the enemy’s lines
advanced on Sabbath, the wailings of
the Abolitionists would have been over
a loss not only much greater than it is,
but perhaps the destruction of their
army.
Since the battle, Jackson’s corps has
been lying quietly in camps—better
say woods —up and down the river be
low Fredericksburg. Our movements
I opine, are dependent to an extent,
} upon those of the enemy, which I pre
[ sume are closely watched. Already an
i expedition is making reconnoisance,
J the result of which will probabiy be
[ known before this reaches you.
> The condition of our troopsis grad-
> ually improving, by supplies from home
[ and the Government, and it is to be
1 hoped that soon they will be comfort
> ably clothed and shod. Their sufler-
J ings and privations have been great,
’ but the cause for which they were en-
> dured, will richly reward them. Suc
i ceeding generations will shed tears of
J sympathy upon the pages of history,
1 while they read the accounts of the ex
i posures and sufferings through which
[ the ragged and bare-foot “rebels” pass
-1 ed, and which God’s people should
> earnestly pray, may soon have an end.
; ' GEO. F. COOPER.
- —II .
> Beautiful Sentiment. —A Greek
J maiden being asked what fortune she
' would bring her husband, replied in
/ the following beautiful language: —“I
will bring him what gold cannot pur
( chase—a heart unspotted, and virtue
'l without a stain—which is all that de
? scended to me from my parents.”— J?x.
A Foolish Bargain.
Satan otters the sinner much wealth,
honor and pleasure, for his soul. The
sinner accepts the offer ; and loses his
soul.
Suppose Satan should comply with
his agreement (which he seldom does,)
and should give all he promises, would
it be a wise trade on the part of the
sinner? Let us see.
He has large wealth, but all this he
loses as soon as he dies; “for he brought
nothing into the world, and it is cer
tain he can carry nothing out.”
Suppose he has honor. It is but the
breath of mortal man ; and so soon as
he dies, it is worth nothing to him. —
He cannot carry him. Besides,
if he could carry it with him, God would
not recognize it as of any value.
Suppose he enjoys pleasure; it is on
ly the pleasure derived from this world,
the clamorous excitement of passion
and appetite; which will avail him
nothing beyond the grave. Should Sa
tan, therefore, comply with his prom
ise, he would confer nothing that can
last longer than human life. At death
the soul is left deprived of all that it
needs. Besides this, it must then be
gin to experience the fierce pangs of an
enlightened conscience, the gnawings
of the worm that never dies. And
when millions upon Bullions of ages
have past, he will still be wretched
yes, more wretched than when he first
entered upon his career ol suffering.
The bargain was foolish. Should Sa
tan give him the whole world for his
soul, the result would be the same. —
The poor cheated being would soon
crumble to dust, and his miserable spirit
would wake up in uesp.m, where
nought but suffering and anguish are the
doom of the soul. In all eternity he
would lament his folly, and would de
sire to rue his bargain. There is no
folly known to earth that can be com
pared with this. If a man should, af
ter gaining the whole world, trade it
all off for the shadow of smoke, his
last trade would be inconceivably wiser
than the first, for the one brings him
only temporary poverty, while the oth
er results in the eternal anguish of the
soul!
But comparatively few persons who
entertain the propositions of Satan,
ever realize what he promises. Satan
rarely pays his debts. He promises
wealth, honor and pleasure ; but com
paratively few ever receive them. —
Alost of his deluded subjects live poor,
die poor, and then inherit eternal in
famy, shame and suffering!
lie who trades off his soul for any
thing whatever, makes a trade which
of all other trades is most foolish.
A Good Private.
I know a private in the 34th Geor
gia Regiment (Col. J. A. AV. John
son’s) who comes as nearly up to the
standard of a good soldier as any one
of my acquaintances perhaps in the
whole army. I have Seen him on long
“forced marches,” where there was lit
tle water to be had, and where provi
sions were exceedingly scarce ; I have
seen him rushing along, but never out
of line, almost exhausted from his
heavy burden ; I have seen him march
ing along, when I knew him to be
sick; I have seen him when we 'were
hourly expected to meet the enemy in
deadly conflict; but I have never seen
him falter or heard him complain, or
known him to shrink from any duty.
If every soldier was like him, there
would be few stragglers in the army,
and I hesitate not to say that the coun
try would have much less cause to
fear the advance of our enemies. This
private’s name is Bayliss J. Lewis, son
of ex-Senator J. AY. Lewis. I take
great pleasure in holding him up as a
model soldier, both because he de
serves it, and because in former days
he was a pupil of mine.
NO. 3.