water given for the Master, and rejoiced in the privilege of
ministering to these wounded and, it might be, dying men.

"You'll have to lose your arm, my good fellow," said the doctor,
kindly, but in a business-like way, "the bone is badly shattered."
"I was afear'd o' that ever since I got hit. I was just a-takin'
aim when I missed my fire,--I didn't know why, didn't feel
nuthin', but I couldn't hold the gun. Old Jonas Evans, the Methody
local preacher, was aside me, a-prayin' like a saint and a-
fightin' like a lion. 'The Lord ha' mercy on his soul,' I heared
him say as he knocked a feller over. Well, he helped me out o' the
fight as tender as a woman, and then went at it again as fierce as
ever."

"Don't talk so much, my good follow," said the doctor, who had
been preparing ligatures to tie the arteries and arranging his
saw, knife, and tourniquet within reach. The operation was soon
over, Jim never flinching a bit. Indeed, during action, and for
some time after, the sensibilities seem, by the concurrent
excitement, mercifully deadened to pain.

"I'd have spared t'other one too, an' right willin'," said the
faithful fellow, "if it would have saved Brock."

Zenas, at the doctor's direction, held the poor fellow's shattered
arm till the amputation was complete. As the dissevered limb grew
cold in his hands, he seemed more distressed than its late owner.
Instead of laying it with some others near the surgeon's table, he
wrapped it tenderly, as though it still could feel, in a cloth,
and going out where a fatigue party were burying on the field of