sir, do you still remember me?" "Do we
forget the angels when once they visit us?" Then he went on with his
story until he brought the picture back to me as if it were yesterday.
Truly I was convinced of the power of song. He had listened to me when
sick and wounded and as his mind went back to the days of '61 he still
remembered the face and the singer and the song. After bidding him
good-bye and thanking him for his long remembrance of me, I turned
thoughtfully away. As we came upon the porch of the hospital I passed
a middle aged man and I nodded pleasantly and passed him by. As I
passed he said, "Are you going to forget your old postman of 120
Charles street, Boston?" I could not reply for a moment, and I looked
at him and said, "Are you Charles Blake?" He said, "I am." "What are
you doing here, are all the Eastern soldiers here in this place?"
"No," he replied, "Only two or three of us." "I was speaking to one
just now in the kitchen who remembered me." "Oh, yes, Patrick, he was
in the same place I was." "How did you happen to come here?" I asked
him. "My letter pouch became too heavy for me to carry and I asked to
be sent here, and I expect to remain the rest of my life." Truly,
wonders will never cease, said I, as we left him and went to the sick
room. There we saw rows of beds all occupied except three or four. At
the head of the stairs we stopped to speak to the old veteran and
inquired of his health. He said, "My days are short and I am ready to
go at any time now." I said, "You were unable to hear the music
today?" "Yes," he said, "I thought once or twice I could catch a sound
of it, but I could not tell." I asked him if he liked music and he
said, "Very much, and I wanted to hear the singer today for I had
heard her sing before I got bedridden, when she was a young woman, and
I was so sorry to have missed it." I said, "What song would you like
best to hear, now that you are sick, if you could hear anyone sing?"
"The song I have in my mind now is Nearer, My God, to Thee." I took
his wasted hand in mine and stood at the head of his bed and sang to
him and to all the sick in the ward. After I had finished a silence
was o'er all, save a sob or two from those who were deeply affected by
the song. The nurse approached and asked me if I would sing Rock of
Ages for one veteran who was lying at the other end of the ward. I
complied and when I had finished these poor afflicted men wanted to
thank me, so I passed from o