"From old Massachusetts. I had a snug little home upon the banks of the Connecticut; but I told my wife that I didn't feel just right to stay there, when I was needed out here, and so I came, and here I am. I shall write home, and tell Mary about the Christian Commission. I have been wishing all day that I had an orange; I knew it was no use to wish. I didn't suppose there was one in camp; besides, here I am, not able to move a peg. I thank you, sir, for bringing it. I shall tell my wife all about it."
These expressions of gratitude were not indifferent utterances of courtesy, but came from full hearts. Those sun-burned sufferers recognized the religion of Jesus in the gift. The Christian religion, thus exemplified, was not a cold abstraction, but a reality, providing for the health of the body as well as the soul. It was easy to converse with those men concerning their eternal well-being. They could not oppose a Christianity that manifested such regard for their bodily comfort. Such a religion commended itself to their hearts and understandings. Thus the Commission became a great missionary enterprise. Farina, oranges, lemons, onions, pickles, comfort-bags, shirts, towels, given and distributed in the name of Jesus, though designed for the body, gave strength to the soul. To the quickened senses of a wounded soldier parched with fever, far from home and friends, an onion was a stronger argument for the religion which bestowed it than the subtle reasoning of Renan, and a pickle sharper than the keenest logic of Colenso!
Visiting Washington one day, I passed through several of the hospitals, and was present when the delegates came to the head-quarters of the Commission and narrated their experiences of the day. About fifty were present. Their work was washing and dressing wounds, aiding the sick and wounded in every way possible, distributing reading matter, writing letters for those unable to write, with religious exercises and conversation. No delegate was allowed to give jellies or wines as food, or to hold meetings in any ward, without permission of the surgeon in charge, which usually was granted. It was a rule of the Commission, and not of the Medical Department. The design was to do everything possible for the good of the men, and nothing for their hurt. One delegate said that he found fully one third of the men in his wards professing Christians. They were glad to see him, and rejoiced to obtain religious reading. A few days before he had given an old man a book entitled the "Blood of Jesus."
"I have found Jesus, and O, he is so precious!" said the old soldier.
Another delegate said: "I found among the patients a minister who enlisted as a private. He has been in the hospital sixteen months, and has maintained his Christian character through all the trials of camp and hospital life. I found some convalescents playing cards.
"'My boys, you don't play cards on Sunday, do you?'
"'It isn't Sunday, is it? Why, hang it all, chaplain, we can't keep track of the days in the army.'
"I talked to them of home and of their mothers. The tears rolled down their cheeks. They put up their cards, and read the papers I gave them."
"I never saw men so ready to receive religious instruction," said another delegate, "or who were so easily impressed with its truths. I am satisfied that this is a golden opportunity to the Christian Church. I found a young man to-day who said, 'I want you, chaplain, to tell me just what I have to do to be a Christian. I will do just what you say. I want to be a Christian.' It was a sincere desire. I find that the Catholics are just as eager to have religious instruction as others."
"I found a sergeant from Massachusetts, very low, but he met me with a smile. 'It is all right, I am happy, and I die content. Tell my friends so,'" reported another.