My assent was followed instantly by another equally abrupt question, “Then you’ll tell me where do people go when they die? That man, there—I heard him—said I was dying; I’ve been asking him all night, and he won’t tell me.”
“If you will mind what I say now, and try to be very still, when you have less fever, I will talk to you and tell you all you want to know.”
“I’ll be dead then, and I want to know before I die.”
Very sure that any excitement at present must be injurious, after several ineffectual attempts to divert his mind, I deemed it best to leave him, making an excuse of other duties, and promising to return if he would try to keep quiet. The surgeon’s report was favorable; the change in him was quite unexpected, and recovery was possible, though by no means probable.
I left him alone, purposely, for some hours; but the moment I re-entered the ward he exclaimed, “Now you will tell me.”
Judging it better to quiet his mind, I sat down and spoke to him quietly and gently of his home. Home! the talisman which charms away all pain and soothes all sorrow. Should any one ask how to reach the men? how gain an influence over them? I would reply by pointing them to Napoleon’s policy, or later, to our own Burnside, and let the fields of Roanoke and Newbern bear witness to the success of the experiment. Attack the centre. Storm the heart. Make a man speak of his home. Listen, while he tells with bitter self-reproach, how he enlisted without consent; and how, since then, the night wind’s wail seems mourning mother’s moan; listen to the tearful tale of the loneliness of some brave-hearted wife, who sent her treasure forth, and battles nobly on at home; (which is the harder strife?) or of the parting hour, and clinging clasp of little arms round that rough neck, which would not be undone, and which may never tighten there again. And once more listen, as I did yesterday, to an account of a return home, on a furlough, of one bronzed and weather-beaten by severe service and exposure; the joyful expectation; the journey; the gradual approach to the well-known gate; every detail dwelt upon and lingered over; “And, if you’ll believe it, my Charlie didn’t know me! I couldn’t stand it nohow;” and the tears which will not be repressed, fall thickly on the crutches at his side. Lead a man, I say, to tell you such things as these, and he can never again feel towards you as a stranger; he will bring you his letters, or tell you their contents, with a feeling that you know the persons therein mentioned, and will sympathize with either his joy or sorrow. The citadel is won; he has put the key into your hands which you may fit at any moment to the lock of his heart, and enter at will; thus is a bond established between you, for the proper improvement of which you will be responsible in the sight of God.
But this victory, like many another we have won, is a very partial one; the fortress may be gained, but the difficulty is to hold it, and garrison it with the troops that we would fain see there. Golden Charity, the commander-in-chief of our forces, has had, and will yet have, many a weary battle to wage, ere She can obtain even a foothold in such unwonted quarters; but with the all-important aid of Her staff officers, Faith and Hope, we look for final success, even though we may not be permitted to see it.
But do not imagine that poor Ennis has been the victim of this digression. After a few moments’ conversation, the eager, excited tone died away, and he told me quietly that he had been brought up in “the woods of Jersey;” had driven a team there, and worked on a farm; spoke of his ignorance with pain; the great grief seemed to be that he could not read; if he should live, wouldn’t I teach him?
“Nobody never taught me nothing; will God mind, if I should die?”
“Did your mother never teach you your letters?”