ays
and everlastingly opposed to all new-fangled notions, such as having
Temperance societies, Missionary societies, and Sunday schools.
They would, however, die in their tracks before they would ever
let up on the good old church doctrines, especially predestination.
Oh, I tell you they were predestinarians from away back. John
Calvin with his vapory views upon that question would not have been
admitted even on probation. Sometimes the preacher during his
sermon, turning to the Amen corner would inquire: 'When were you,
my brother, predestinated to eternal salvation, or eternal
damnation?'

"Well, the answer that had come down from the ages always was,
'From the foundation of the world.'

"When I was making my first race for Congress, I spoke in that
neighborhood one Saturday, and stayed all night with one of the
elders, and on Sunday of course I went to church. During the
sermon, the preacher while holding forth as usual on his
favorite doctrine, suddenly turning to a stranger who had somehow got
crowded into the Amen corner, said: 'My brother, when were you
predestinated to eternal salvation or eternal damnation?' To which
startling inquiry the stranger, terribly embarrassed, hesitatingly
answered: 'I don't adzactly remember, Parson, but _I think it was
befo' the Wah.'"_

A comrade of John in Company G was a tow-headed, lantern-jawed
fellow who never failed somehow to get to the rear and to a place of
comparative safety at the first intimation of approaching battle.
He was proof alike against the gibes of his comrades and the threats
of his officers. Upon one occasion the approach of the enemy
was heralded by a few shells bursting suggestively near the spot
where Company G was stationed. The tow-headed veteran immediately
began preparations to retire. With threatening mien, levelled
revolver, and oaths that would have done no discredit to "our army
in Flanders," the Captain ordered the skulker back into line, upon
pain of instant death. Leaning upon his musket, and with familiar
gaze upon his irate superior, the culprit slowly drawled: "I don't
mine bein' muddered by a high-tone Southern gentleman like you,
Cappen, but dam if I'm gwyen to eternally disgrace my family by
lettin' one of them low-down Yankees shoot me!"

Allen was no exception to the rule that men gifted like himself
are subject to occasional seasons of gloom, but his greeting usually
came as a benediction. At the banquet table, when