nds, cold autumn storms,
insufficient food, hinted at the hardships to follow. The gold and the
alloy in the men's characters began to shine out, and Company F soon
realized in practical ways, the nature of the man who led them. His
new uniform overcoat went to a shivering boy, his rations were divided
with those less fortunate, his blankets were given to a comrade in
need. Always it was of his men, not himself, he thought.

Before leaving camp for the seat of war, Captain Conwell was presented
with a sword by his Company, bearing this inscription:--

"Presented to Captain Russell H. Conwell by the soldiers of Company F,
46th Mass. Vol. Militia, known as 'The Mountain Boys.' Vera Amicitia
est sempiterna. (True friendship is eternal.)" Colonel Shurtleff made
the speech of presentation. The passionately eloquent reply of the
boy captain is yet remembered by those who heard it. He received the
beautiful, glittering weapon in silence. Slowly he drew the gleaming
steel from its golden sheath and solemnly held it upward as if
dedicating it to heaven, the sunlight bathing the blade with blinding
flashes of light. His eyes were fixed upon the steel, as if in a rapt
vision, he swept the centuries past, the centuries to come, and saw
what it stood for in the destinies of men. Breathless silence fell
upon his waiting comrades. Thus for a few moments he stood and then he
spoke to the sword.

"He called up the shade of the sword of that mighty warrior Joshua,
which purified a polluted land with libations of blood, and made
it fit for the heritage of God's people; the sword of David, that
established the kingdom of Israel; the sword of that resistless
conqueror, Alexander, that pierced the heart of the Orient; the Roman
short sword, the terrible gladius, that carved out for the Caesars
the sovereignty of the world; the sword of Charlemagne, writing its
master's glorious deeds in mingling chapters of fable and history; the
sword of Gustavus Adolphus, smiting the battalions of the puissant
Wallenstein with defeat and overthrow even when its master lay dead on
the field of Lutzen; the sword of Washington, drawn for human freedom
and sheathed in peace, honor, and victory; then he bade the sword
remember all it had done in shaping the destinies of men and nations;
how it had written on the tablets of history in letters red and lurid,
the drama of the ages; closing, he called upon it now, in the battle
for the Union, to strike hard and