THE TWO ARMIES.
U.S.A. Hospital, September 29, 1862.
I trust, dear C., this bright, beautiful day may have brought you as much pleasure as it has done to me, and that you have been able to enjoy it as you would most wish to do. I escaped from my duties here for one hour, and spent it you know where. On my return, we were favored with a visit from the Bishop of Minnesota, who is here on his way to the General Convention.
He seemed much interested in going through the wards, had a kind word and friendly greeting for each man. One thing particularly impressed me,—his tact in addressing them. Instead of boring them as I do with “What is your name? What is your regiment?” he glanced his eye upon the card at the head of the bed, whereon all such particulars are written, and then said, “Who is the colonel of the Forty-fourth?” or, “Was the Eighteenth Massachusetts much cut up?” Instantly the man would brighten, feel that there was one who took a personal interest, and answer with promptness and pleasure.
This may seem a trifle, but to gain an influence anywhere trifles must be considered, and are often all-important. My inward exclamation was, immediately, “Here is one who has been accustomed to dealing with men, and knows how to reach them.” A few well-chosen questions will often go further, and be of more benefit, than a long sermon.
As you have expressed some interest in L——, you will forgive me for repeating a conversation to which this visit gave rise. A little later, I returned for some purpose to his bedside.
“That’s a nice man you brought here; what was it you called him?”
“The title I gave him,” said I, “he gained by promotion in our Army.”
“Our army! I knew it, by the way he talked; then he’s a volunteer?”
“Yes.”