days, of Barnwells and Hugers. And yonder is
a stump-orator perched on his barrel, pouring out his exhortations to
fidelity in war and in religion. To-night for the first time I have
heard an harangue in a different strain, quite saucy, sceptical, and
defiant, appealing to them in a sort of French materialistic style, and
claiming some personal experience of warfare. "You don't know notin'
about it, boys. You tink you's brave enough; how you tink, if you stan'
clar in de open field,--here you, and dar de Secesh? You's got to hab
de right ting inside o' you. You must hab it 'served [preserved] in you,
like dese yer sour plums dey 'serve in de barr'l; you's got to harden
it down inside o' you, or it's notin'." Then he hit hard at the
religionists: "When a man's got de sperit ob de Lord in him, it weakens
him all out, can't hoe de corn." He had a great deal of broad sense in
his speech; but presently some others began praying vociferously close
by, as if to drown this free-thinker, when at last he exclaimed, "I mean
to fight de war through, an' die a good sojer wid de last kick, dat's
_my_ prayer!" and suddenly jumped off the barrel. I was quite interested
at discovering this reverse side of the temperament, the devotional side
preponderates so enormously, and the greatest scamps kneel and groan in
their prayer-meetings with such entire zest. It shows that there is some
individuality developed among them, and that they will not become too
exclusively pietistic.

Their love of the spelling-book is perfectly inexhaustible,--they
stumbling on by themselves, or the blind leading the blind, with the
same pathetic patience which they carry into everything. The chaplain is
getting up a schoolhouse, where he will soon teach them as regularly as
he can. But the alphabet must always be a very incidental business in a
camp.

December 14.

Passages from prayers in the camp:--

"Let me so lib dat when I die I shall _hab manners_, dat I shall know
what to say when I see my Heabenly Lord."

"Let me lib wid de musket in one hand an' de Bible in de oder,--dat if
I die at de muzzle ob de musket, die in de water, die on de land, I may
know I hab de bressed Jesus in my hand, an' hab no fear."

"I hab lef my wife in de land o' bondage; my little ones dey say eb'ry
night, Whar is my fader? But when I die, when de bressed mornin' rises,
when I shall stan' in de glory, wid one foot on de water an' one foot
on de land, den, O Lord, I shal