un that lay near by, asked if I was
going to clean it. I replied to him, that I could not comply with
military requisitions, and felt resigned to the consequences. "I do not
ask about your feelings; I want to know if you are going to clean that
gun?" "I cannot do it," was my answer. He went away, saying, "Very
well," and I crawled into the tent again. Two sergeants soon called for
me, and taking me a little aside, bid me lie down on my back, and
stretching my limbs apart tied cords to my wrists and ankles and these
to four stakes driven in the ground somewhat in the form of an X.

I was very quiet in my mind as I lay there on the ground [soaked] with
the rain of the previous day, exposed to the heat of the sun, and
suffering keenly from the cords binding my wrists and straining my
muscles. And, if I dared the presumption, I should say that I caught a
glimpse of heavenly pity. I wept, not so much from my own suffering as
from sorrow that such things should be in our own country, where Justice
and Freedom and Liberty of Conscience have been the annual boast of
Fourth-of-July orators so many years. It seemed that our forefathers in
the faith had wrought and suffered in vain, when the privileges they so
dearly bought were so soon set aside. And I was sad, that one
endeavouring to follow our dear Master should be so generally regarded
as a despicable and stubborn culprit.

After something like an hour had passed, the lieutenant came with his
orderly to ask me if I was ready to clean the gun. I replied to the
orderly asking the question, that it could but give me pain to be asked
or required to do anything I believed wrong. He repeated it to the
lieutenant just behind him, who advanced and addressed me. I was
favoured to improve the opportunity to say to him a few things I wished.
He said little; and, when I had finished, he withdrew with the others
who had gathered around. About the end of another hour his orderly came
and released me.

I arose and sat on the ground. I did not rise to go away. I had not
where to go, nothing to do. As I sat there my heart swelled with joy
from above. The consolation and sweet fruit of tribulation patiently
endured. But I also grieved, that the world was so far gone astray, so
cruel and blind. It seemed as if the gospel of Christ had never been
preached upon earth, and the beautiful example of his life had been
utterly lost sight of.

Some of the men came about me, advising me to yield, an