Sunday morning we were passing the soldiers' quarters, and saw them handing a coffin into a wagon. We halted, and addressing the gentleman giving directions, found it was Major Curtis. He told us the deceased was a fine young man from Southern Illinois, whose praise was upon the lips of all his soldier comrades. The indications were, that they were burying without religious rites, and on inquiry we learned they had no chaplain, and were not inclined to ask the services of a resident clergyman. We informed the Major that we sometimes acted in such a capacity, and any service we could render should be cheerfully given. On his appointment we preached a funeral discourse in the Court House, at 3 P. M., that day. They buried the Christian soldier boy a thousand miles away from home, where all were strange and few were kind.
The next day the Major desired an interview with us at his office, to obtain information about certain parties living thereabouts. Here was an opportunity to relate our grievances, and have them redressed if we desired. We related the case to him and he proposed to arrest and punish the party; but we said no, that we were willing to leave the scoundrel to the handlings of a just Providence!
Bidding the Major "farewell," and a "God bless you" one day, we took stage for Austin, the capital of the State, and headquarters of the Governor. Passed up the valley of the Colorado River, which we had frequently to ford and ferry in a distance of eighty miles, before reaching the capital.
The Governor was already bivouacked in the State domicile, and two regiments were encamped hard by the city. Judging from appearances, his Excellency meant business. Here we met, and became the guest of Rev. Josiah Whipple, elder brother of the Rev. H. Whipple, now of Chicago. He had once been in the Methodist connection in Illinois as long ago as 1840, and before that date. Went to Texas in a missionary capacity, in company with the Rev. John Clark, who died of cholera while in pastoral charge of Clark Street M. E. Church, of Chicago, some years ago.
He insisted we must not take the stage for San Antonio that day--Saturday--but remain with him over Sunday, and perform pulpit service for him. We did so. But on entering the pulpit Sunday morning, we were unfortunate in a portion of our wardrobe, in having on a blue flannel sack coat instead of a "Confederate gray" or black, or home-made jeans, or some other color than blue. _Blue_ was as enraging to the secesh eyes of some of the fair ones in the audience as _red_ is to the eyes of a turkey gobbler. They could not endure the blue coat as they had seen the "boys in blue" that morning, on their way to church, and judged we were one of the regimental chaplains of the Union troops encamped near the city. So six or eight of them, led by an elderly amazon, filed out of church while the "blue coat" was on his knees in silent devotion in the pulpit.