A DAY IN CAMP CONVALESCENT. BEING BY REV. J. T. CRANE, D. D. EING a member of the Committee of the Christian Commission for the city of Newark, N. J., and the vicinity, I was instructed by a vote of the Committee to visit the central offices of the Commission at Philadelphia and Washington, examine the whole system of operations, and report the result of my inquiries. I do not propose to inflict upon the readers of the Repository a formal document detailing the process and the fruits of the investigation, but to give them a gossiping account of certain things which interested the writer at the time, and may interest the reader when the types, if they ever do, shall spread the imperfect description before the public eye. The object had in view was to learn what ought to be done for the benefit of our patriot soldiers, and how we could work to the best advantage. In accordance with the request I went to Philadelphia, and had an interview with Mr. Stuart and his efficient colaborers there; and thence went on to Washington, where I spent several days in explorations of various kinds, in the hospitals, and the camps, and round about. It is hardly necessary to say that I was fully convinced that the Commission is doing a most noble work, patriotic, humane, and Christian; but that it is doing it honestly, wisely, and well; so that every dollar contributed tells, finds its object, and achieves that whereunto it was sent by the donor. The character of the chief managers, and of the immediate agents of distribution, is a sufficient guarantee that there will be no fraud, nor waste. The spacious rooms of the Commission in Philadelphia and Washington were models of system, activity, and promptness. Boxes, letters, telegraphic dispatches were constantly arriving, and as constantly departing, bearing books, tracts, clothing, cordials, comforts for the body and the soul, to our brave men in the field, the camp, and the hospital, every-where. During the past year supplies, valued at nearly a million of dollars, were distributed; and more than twelve hundred delegates, most of whom were ministers of the various denominations of Christians, labored under its auspices without earthly reward. On the field and in the hospitals of Gettysburg alone competent judges estimate the number of lives literally saved by the Commission at one thousand. Those who have the disposition to give of their substance to alleviate the sufferings of our VOL. XXIV.-40 noble defenders may rest assured that all their donations of every kind will be applied more economically and wisely by the hands of the Commission, than they could be by any private agency. But the memorable day of the tour of exploration was Sunday, May 24th, whose events I sat down to chronicle for the columns of the Repository. We had arranged to spend the day at Camp Convalescent, which is on the Virginia side of the Potomac, and some five miles from the city. The other members of the party are so well known to the public that I feel that there is no impropriety in my naming them. They were Bishop Janes, Geo. H. Stuart, of Philadelphia, Mr. Demond, of Boston, and Mr. Shearer, the efficient manager of the depot of the Commission at Washington. The use of a Government ambulance had been obtained by application to the proper officer; and punctually at the early hour designated the vehicle and its blue-coated driver were at the door of the Metropolitan. The turn-out could not be called, in strictness of speech, a stylish one. The horses-specimens, I presume, of the multitudinous nags of our respected Uncle Samuel-looked strong and serviceable, but were not particularly sleek or handsome. Their bones, in fact, showed hilly ranges, or jutted up in single peaks that appeared altogether too abrupt and rocky to agree with the speculations of Hogarth concerning the lines of Beauty and Grace. Possibly speculations in oats had more to do with their outlines than the theories of the great painter. The ambulance, as we will state for the benefit of those who never have had the good or ill fortune to see one, is, in outward seeming, much like the covered wagon of a country butcher. The interior differs from it in that it has two seats running lengthwise, on which four or five passengers sitting on the one side may face an equal number on the other. The driver, who was a soldier and "under authority," pulled out the document containing his orders, and showed it to us, to make sure that the right persons were taking possession of his establishment, and we clambered in at the open stern of the craft. Down Pennsylvania Avenue we went, down another street, then across the Tiber, the most unclassical stream that ever bore a classic name. We rumbled over the lengthened ways of Long Bridge. At the southern end thereof the driver made a sudden halt, and a soldier presented himself with the inquiring look of one whose duty it is to keep his eyes open, and see that no suspi cious characters slip through his fingers. A group of men, and a number of stacked muskets, formed the background of the scene. A document, executed with all due form, was handed him, certifying that Bishop Janes, Geo. H. Stuart, etc., were authorized to cross the said bridge to the sacred soil of Virginia, and return at their pleasure. The thing being thus made officially clear to the eyes of the guardians of the Potomac, we rumbled off the planks upon the territory of the Old Dominion. Our first near view of this part of the State of Virginia was not enchanting. There are a few dwellings close to the bridge; but the four or five miles of space between them and Camp Convalescent are a desolation, without houses, fences, or inhabitant, save an encampment or two of soldiers. The face of the country is hilly, and there is much forest. The soil is a reddish clay; the road was rough, with deep ruts made earlier in the season, and now dried almost to the consistency of brick. About a mile or so from the Potomac we came to one of the earthworks erected for the defense of Washington. We saw a portion of the garrison on parade; they were Massachusetts men; and the perfect neatness of their dress, the immaculate polish of their arms, and the accuracy of their drill spoke well for the boys of the Old Bay State. We looked into a log-house which had been built for a hospital, and found several sick men. We talked with each of them in regard to his soul, offered prayer in their behalf, and left them. Again in our ambulance, we rode on through the desolation, and about ten o'clock reached our place of destination. Camp Convalescent is situated on a series of slight elevations, which are covered with a growth of yellow pines, the trees being forty or fifty feet high, and yielding only a scanty shade. Again a sentinel examined our pass, and nodded his satisfaction therewith, and we drove inside the lines. From a grove of pines on the left of the wagon path there came the sound of a hymn, a strong chorus, as the voice of many waters," which reminded us at once of a camp meeting, and we instinctively turned toward it. We found in the grove a commodious chapel of rough boards, and near it were pitched three tents. These all were appliances of the Christian Commission. Under its auspices the chapel was built, the Commission buying the materials, and the convalescent soldiers performing the labor. One of the tents was the dwelling-place of the Rev. Mr. Lyford and his estimable Christian wife. Brother Lyford met us, and after an exchange of greetings, gave us some account of his work. He had come to the Camp to labor for a few weeks for the benefit of the soldiers, and so great a blessing had followed the Word, that he had prolonged his stay much beyond his first intention. A revival was in progress. For some weeks there had been a sermon and one or two prayer meetings daily. He had been busy in season and out of season, preaching, praying, conversing with those who came to ask for counsel, till his strength began to fail, and still his spirit was as willing as ever. Mrs. Lyford, too, as we learned from other sources, had been as zealous and as laborious as himself, and a true helpmeet in holy toil. There had been three hundred men, or more, converted, many of whom had returned to their regiments, bearing with them the savor of godliness-and still the work was going on. In their meetings sometimes thirty or forty would rise to testify their desire to follow Christ. But the time for the regular morning service had come, and we entered the chapel. It was already crowded. Every seat was filled; the steps around the pulpit were full; the aisles and the doorway were full of men who could find no seats, but stood through the entire service. On the outside a group clustered around each open window; and save two or three ladies, a child, and those connected with the Commission, the audience was composed entirely of soldiers. The Bishop preached a plain, practical, able discourse, very suitable to the occasion. His audience listened with deep solemnity and many tears. At the close of the service we were introduced to Col. M'Kelway, the officer in command, and under his guidance made a tour of the camp. He informed us that there were then in camp nearly four thousand men, about fifteen hundred of whom were convalescent, sent here to recover their full vigor before they were returned to their regiments-and the rest paroled men, captured at the battle of Fredericksburg, who had arrived only two days before our visit. The barracks were long frame structures, built of rough boards, but made respectable and neat in appearance by whitewash. We saw the cooking department, where they bake bread by the cord, roast meat by the tun, and boil coffee by the hogshead. We saw a thousand men, or more, at their dinner. The hall was a very long room, wide enough for three ranges of tables. Plates containing rations of meat and vegetables, with a huge piece of bread and a tin cup of coffee flanking each, extended in close order along each side of the table. We tasted some of the bread-it was good enough for the President; and the odor of the beef and the coffee was very satisfactory and suggestive. The men were marched into the room in military style, and stood at the table while eating. As I looked at the simple food, and the scanty table furniture, and saw the evident relish with which the soldiers partook of it, it struck me that our real wants are not as numerous as we are accustomed to imagine, and that the ordinary styles of housekeeping are needlessly complicated and cumbersome. soldiers without seeing every-where, and all the We dined in the tent of brother Lyford, and then went to the afternoon meeting. The gathering this time was under the pines in front of the chapel. The seats had all been brought out; the stray benches and odd planks had been gathered up from every quarter and pressed into the service, yet a multitude of hearers were At half-past six o'clock we assembled again compelled to stand up the whole time of wor- for worship, using the same outdoor arrangeship. I was called upon to make the first ad- ments that had been prepared for the preceding dress, which was followed by interesting, mov- service. The writer was this time drafted for ing speeches by Mr. Demond and Mr. Stuart. the sermon. Again a very large congregation The Bishop then proceeded to the administra-gathered beneath the pines to hear the Word tion of the Lord's Supper. Just in front of the platform, at the door of the chapel, was a smooth place where the clay had been rendered level and hard by the tread of many feet. A long wooden bench was placed here, and before it a little pine table covered with a cloth, and upon it a vessel of wine, two or three common tumblers, and a plate of bread. After a few remarks on the nature of the rite to be administered, and the right state of the heart as we come to the table of the Lord, the sacramental prayers were offered, and all believers were invited to come and testify their faith and renew their vows. The Bishop remarked that we were not all of the same denomination, nor accustomed to the same mode of administration, and consequently every man must consider himself at liberty to sit, or stand, or kneel, assuming the posture which he deemed most suitable. With many tokens of deep emotion, solemn joy, the soldiers came forward, one company after another, till at least a hundred and fifty had communed-a half a dozen or so sitting upon the bench, the rest kneeling. Hundreds of others stood with thoughtful faces beholding the scene. And I will here add that throughout the day I did not hear a word or see a gesture that was not serious and respectful. Our soldiers are not all converted; but amid the scenes of death through which they pass they learn to reverence that religion which prepares men to die. After this interesting service we visited the camp hospital and conversed with the patients. No one can go among even our sick and dying of God. As the sermon, albeit not a long one, proceeded, the evening shadows came, and twilight deepened into night. Lamps were brought out and hung up on each side of the door of the chapel. The scene was singularly picturesque. On the platform, the "stoop" of the chapel, sat three or four ministers: around the smooth space where we had knelt in the communion were the benches filled with soldiers; and beyond them a great crowd of men standing up for lack of seats; and scattered among them were the trunks of the pines, illuminated with the bright rays of the lamps. Then darkness set the picture in a frame of jet, save where a light glittered here and there among the distant trees. The little circle of light, the motionless, silent crowd, the earnest, thoughtful faces, the dark foliage overhead, the wall of shadows around, the military character of the audience, the history which they had already wrought, the high hopes built upon their courage and patriotism, all conspired to impress and move. At the close of the sermon brother Lyford added a few words of exhortation, and then invited those who desired to seek the Savior to come forward and stand in the open space before the platform. Immediately, without urging and without delay, they began to come from every part of the audience. Some wore the neat uniform of the convalescents, others bore numerous marks of hard campaigns and the privations of prison life. Some wore the yellow stripes of the cavalry, others the blue of the infantry, others the red of the artillery. There were veterans there, strong men whose faces were brown with long exposure, and who bore the scars of honorable wounds. On they came, till a line was formed all the way across the allotted space; then another line formed behind them, then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth, till more than one hundred men, perhaps one hundred and twenty, in that sacred hour placed themselves visibly "on the Lord's side." Deep emotion was graven on the faces of these inquirers after peace. What we felt who sat or stood upon the platform I need not try to tell. Many tears flowed in every part of the audience, and many a fervent "Thank God!" was uttered with sobbing voice. Brother Lyford asked Bishop Janes to lead in prayer. "I can not command my voice sufficiently," was the reply, and brother Lyford himself prayed. At the conclusion of his prayer brother Stuart prayed; by this time the Bishop had found his voice, and led the devotions. Still another prayer was offered in behalf of the penitents, who had remained all this time upon their knees, weeping and urging their petitions for the Divine favor-not noisily, but with great earnestness. As the fourth prayer concluded the drums began to beat the signal. Nine o'clock had come, and all public meetings must close. Our services were promptly brought to an end, but the audience remained as if loth to leave the place. The soldiers gathered around to shake hands with the Bishop and Mr. Stuart, and thank us for coming to spend a day among them. Some pressed their way through the throng to tell us that they had found Jesus; others to say that they had formed the "great resolve," and were determined, through Divine help, to live the life of the righteous. Several told us that now, for the first time, they felt peace within. One desired me, on my return home, to call at his house in Newark, and tell his wife that he had found Christ, adding, "It will make her happier than it would to hear that I had been elected President of the United States." And still they clustered around us to shake hands and bid us farewell. It was nearly ten o'clock before we summoned our ambulance, and set out for Washington. Again we toiled over the rough road, and rumbled over Long Bridge. Again we beheld the lofty, yet unfinished structure, erected in memory of Washington, which looked white and ghost-like in the bright moonlight. Soon we were again within the ample walls of the Metropolitan, and fast asleep. And among the last, wandering, grateful thoughts that lingered in the mind was the conclusion, I have seen strange things to-day. TO A LONE CLOUD. BY GEORGE W. TELLE. LONG have I watched thy slow approach, The moonbeams sit like birds of light, And o'er thee shake, in wild transports, Their silvery plumage. Calm thou 'rt, too, Though starry eve on thee, hung round With waveless drapery of blue, Reposed; or thou wert floating just Within the evening hush of heaven. And as I, raptured, gaze on thee, Fair native of the sky, thou even Seemest a stranger cloud that long Hath nestled in celestial skies, Come, wand'ring, here; while hushed along Where'er thy fleecy folds arise, Angelic voyagers recline. Yet, as I gaze, I think that thou, Perhaps, hast not thus always sailed 'Neath skies as calm as these are now. Thou 'st quaked when thunders sullen roared; The lightning, too, thy breast hath riven; Like frightened bird, on broken wing, Thou hast before the storm been driven. Yet driven by the tempest now Where danger past and hushed thy fear, These azure skies outspread serene, And heavenly quiet fills the air. Ah so I think 't will matter not, Though tempest-tossed through life I be, If thus my bark life's storms shall drive Upon the calm, eternal sea. THE EARNEST CHRISTIAN. REST? rest? O no, it can not be, While throbs one pulse of life; Amidst the battle's din? Who victory's wreath would win? When passed o'er life's rough sea; O will not that eternal rest Be rest enough for me? THE EDITOR'S REPOSITORY. Scripture A DIFFICULTY IN DAVID'S HISTORY EXPLAINED.Here, too, we had an opportunity of witnessing, more than once, incidents of a kind that forcibly reminded us of scenes in the Scripture history of David, by which readers ignorant of the country in which they happened, may have been often not a little perplexed. When David was hiding in the wilderness of Ziph, an opportunity presented itself of slaying King Saul as he lay asleep in the night, unconscious of any danger being near. Too generous to avail himself of the advantages that had come so unexpectedly and so temptingly in his way, David, nevertheless, resolved to show how completely his persecutor had been in his power. Stealing noiselessly into Saul's camp, accompanied by a single follower, and passing unobserved through the midst of the drowsy guards, David "took the spear and the cruse of water from Saul's bolster; and they got them away, and no man saw it, nor knew it, neither awaked: for they were all asleep." 1 Samuel xxvi, 12. Having performed this daring exploit, he and his attendant, Abishai, "went over to the other side, and stood on the top of a hill afar off, a great space being between them." Having got to this safe distance from the relentless enemy, David is represented in the sacred history as proceeding to address Abner, the leader of Saul's host, and to taunt him with his unsoldier-like want of vigilance in leaving his royal master exposed to the hazard of being slain in the very midst of his own camp. What is apt to appear strange in this narrative, is the fact that these hostile parties should have been near enough to carry on the conversation which the narrative describes, and yet that all the while the one should have been entirely beyond the reach of the other. That all this, however, was both possible and easy, was verified in our presence. As we were riding cautiously along the face of the hill, our attention was suddenly arrested by the voice of a shepherd, who was evidently calling to some one whom we could not see, but whose answer we distinctly heard. The dialogue Another and another sentence was slowly and sonorously uttered by the shepherd near us, and as often the response was distinctly given. At length, guided by the sound, we descried, far up the confronting hill, the source of the second voice in the person of another shepherd; and learned from our Arab at tendants that they were talking to each other about their flocks. Between. these two men was the deep crevasse formed by the valley of the Kedron, walled in by lofty precipices, which no human foot could scale. It would probably have taken a full hour for one, even as fleet and as strong-winded as an Asahel to went on. | abinet. As we pass from the standing-place of the one speaker to that of the other; and yet they were exchanging words with perfect ease. The mystery of the dramatic scene in the wilderness of Ziph was at an end; and we were reminded at the same time of an important truth, that in dealing with the sacred Scripture, ignorance often makes difficulties which a larger knowledge and a deeper intelligence would at once remove. moved along the hill-face, dialogues of the same kind once and again attracted our notice, showing plainly that these trans-valline colloquies are of common occurrence. The facility of hearing was no doubt increased by the extreme stillness of the air, and by the voice being at once confined and thrown back by the steep sides of the hill. AN OBSCURE PROVERB EXPLAINED.-"As he that bindeth a stone in a sling, so is he that giveth honor to a fool." Prov. xxvi, 8. It is not easy to discern any appropriateness in this comparison. It is true that to bind a stone in a sling would be to disregard the proper use of the sling, and to make the stone useless for the purpose for which it is placed in a sling. And one might say that to give honor to a fool is equally to pervert the proper use of honor as the meed of merit. But there seems little force, or even pertinence in the comparison. In the one case things are brought together that belong together, and are adapted to each other, but the object of their juxtaposition is defeated by a strange and unaccountable procedure. In the other case things essentially incongruous are associated together. A sling and a stone are well matched, only the stone should not be bound or fastened there; but a fool and honor are altogether ill-mated; they have no business together. This last is no doubt the idea which Solomon wished to represent by a forcible comparison, and the marginal reading expresses his idea much more pertinently than the text: "As he that putteth a precious stone in a heap of stones, so is he that giveth honor to a fool." This seems a great change in the form of expression; but it agrees better with the original. The word translated in the one case "a sling," and in the other "a heap of stones," is derived from a verb which means primarily to throw, and then to heap up by throwing, and is particularly applied-though not exclusively-to throwing or heaping up stones. Hence it might mean the instrument with which stones are hurled a sling; or the result of throwing stones together-a heap. The latter meaning is in the text much the more pertinent. But the other was adopted by our English translators from the Septuagint. Ge |