the pestilence-house
beyond the guards. In the night the men started for their homes in the
West, and were not caught.

Tracy Rogers, with his bright, sunny face, and sweet voice, whose merry
music resounded through the wards, was one of the first to regain
strength and spirits. His patriotic zeal had only been reanimated by his
sufferings, and he was in haste to be in his place at the front again. A
brother had been killed in the same battle in which he was taken
prisoner, and another had died in a Philadelphia hospital. He was sure
that he should yet die for his country, and talked of death as soon to
come to him. With earnest thoughtfulness, he recalled the teachings of a
Christian mother in his far-off Connecticut home. As the tears filled
his manly blue eyes one day, he asked if the hymn,

"On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye,"

could be found in the hospital. He said that it had been sung at his
mother's funeral, on his fourteenth birthday; that he had never seen it
since, but that lately he had thought much about it. The hymn was
brought, and he committed it to memory. We were sorry to part with him,
when, after serving as ward-master, he was strong enough to go to his
regiment. Not long after he left, a letter came, saying that he had been
badly wounded, and wished himself back among his Annapolis friends once
more. We never heard of him again, and fear that his wounds must have
proved fatal.

Those were quiet, solemn hours passed in the hospital in the intervals
between past and coming dangers. At the close of the day, the men would
gather into one ward for prayers. Many a stern voice was uplifted that
never prayed before. After petitions for pardon and guidance had arisen
to the Giver of all good things, the men would sit and sing, for hours
sometimes, each one wishing for his favorite hymn to be sung, and saying
that this time was more homelike than any other of the day.

The inspection on Sunday forenoon made it the busiest morning of the
week. In the chapel at two o'clock, and again at seven, short services
were held, conducted either by the chaplain, or by the Rev. Mr. Sloan,
the devoted agent of the Christian Commission at this post. After a
while the second service was changed into a Sunday school, very
interesting to our grown-up scholars. The ladies found themselves fully
occupied as teachers in answering the various difficult questions
crowded into a short space of t