Tabor’s mother had given him a little pocket Bible when she kissed him good-bye, and, unmindful of the jeers of his comrades, he read it every evening and knelt and offered up a silent prayer before wrapping himself in his blanket.
When the first death occurred in our camp we had no chaplain. Tabor was called upon to read the burial service and make a prayer. After that some of the boys tried to tease him by calling him “parson.”
AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN.
Away up in York state there was an old-fashioned flower garden with roses, hollyhocks, sweet-williams, larkspurs, marigolds, lady-slippers, pansies, violets and other emblems of purity and the simple life. The boy had loved that old garden, so when it came summer he had a little reminder of it with a box of pansies by the side of his tent.
One day a soldier who had been drinking just enough of the sutler’s beer to make him think he was smart came along, and as he passed Tabor’s tent he gave the box a kick, upsetting it. Garrity saw the act, and he took the smart chap by his coat collar and shook him as a terrier would a rat.
A crowd gathered and then Garrity proceeded to read the riot act to those assembled.
“Look a’here, my hearties,” said he, “I’m going to give you young devils some advice, an’ you’ll be doin’ well to mind what I be sayin’. I want you young blackguards to be very careful how you thrate this lad hereafter. No more pokin’ fun at his religion, ’twould be better if all of you had some of the same.
“I’m none too good meself an’ ought to be counting me beads oftener than I do, but I likes fair play, and be that same token I’ll see that James Tabor has it or me name is not Dennis.
“So now, me laddy bucks, if you don’t like what I’m sayin’ you can put it in your pipes an’ smoke it.”