oodness. I often heard the chaplain tell
the boys to imitate Snowden, and not himself; 'you'll find a pure mouth
there, boys, because the heart is pure; you'll see no letters of
introduction to the devil,' as the chaplain called cards, 'in his
knapsack.' By the way, he was so hard on cards, that even the boatmen,
who knew them better than their A B C's, were ashamed to play them. He
would say, 'Snowden is brave as man can be; he has a right to be, he is
prepared for every fate. A christian, boys, makes all the better soldier
for his being a Christian,' and he would tell us of Washington, Col.
Gardner, that preacher that suffered, fought and died near Elizabeth, in
the Jerseys, and others.

"In bravery, none excelled Snowden. We were lying down once, but about
sixty yards from a wood chuck full of rebels, when word was sent that
our troops on the left must be signalled, to charge in a certain way.
Several understood the signs, but Snowden first rose, mounted a stump,
and did not get off although receiving flesh wounds in half-a-dozen
different places, and his clothing cut to ribands, until he saw the
troops moving as directed. How we gritted our teeth as we heard the
bullets whiz by that brave boy. I have the feeling yet. We thought his
goodness saved him. His was goodness! Not that kind that will stare a
preacher full in the face from a cushioned pew on Sunday, and gouge you
over the counter on Monday, but the genuine article. His time was yet to
come.

"One day we had driven the rebels through a rough country some miles,
skirmishing with their rear-guard; the Chaplain and Snowden with my
company foremost. We neared a small but deep creek the rebels had
crossed, and trying to get across, we were scattered along the bank. I
heard a shot, and as I turned I saw poor Snowden fall, first on his knee
and then on his elbow. I called the Chaplain. They were messmates--he
loved Snowden as his own child, and always called him 'my boy.' He
rushed to him, 'My boy, who fired that shot?' The lad turned to a clump
of bushes about 80 yards distant on the other side of the creek. Long
Tom was in hand, but the rebel was first, and a ball cut the Chaplain's
coat collar. The flash revealed him; in an instant long Tom was in
range, and another instant saw a Butternut belly face the sun. Dropping
his piece, falling upon his knee, he raised Snowden gently up with his
left hand. 'I am dying,' whispered the boy, 'tell my mother I'll meet
her