But I felt that he was not doing well, that he was on the verge of the grave, and that I must speak to him of the future. He went on to tell me of his home,—of a mother and sister and two little brothers in Benton County, Iowa, and added,—
“When I get well enough, I hope they will give me a furlough and let me go home.”
I said tenderly, “I hope you will get well; but how will it be if you should not? Are you ready to die?”
I never shall forget his answer; it has been ringing through my soul all these years. It was as though he was transfigured before me; there came into his face such light and joy, as, laying his hand on his heart, he said, “I have the Comforter!” What volumes in that sentence! I did not need to ask him to what denomination he belonged, or when or where he had found the pearl of great price. It was enough for me to know that he had the Blessed Comforter which Jesus promised to his disciples.
But he went on talking sweetly of Christ and heaven, and the power of Christ to keep. “Religion,” he said, “has kept me through all the temptations of camp-life, and now I am ready to live or to die. If the Master sees that it is best that I should go now, it will be as near heaven from Corinth as it would be from Iowa.”
It was evening time, and I went my way. The next morning I was early at that hospital, and first of all went to look after him, but I found his place vacant.
I said to the ward-master, “Where is the young man who was lying here by this post?”
He answered, “He is dead.”
Oh, how his words went to my heart!
“Where have you laid him?” I asked.