We have had a preaching service this afternoon. Rev. Mr. Austin, of the
Methodist-Episcopal Church South--the church that I am a member of--was
the preacher. The services were well attended, and the sermon was fine.
He compared our situation with that of “The Children of Israel” in the
wilderness. He spoke of God’s care for them, and that He careth for
us, spoke in an earnest manner of our dependence upon God, and our
inability to take care of ourselves, or to accomplish anything without
God’s help and co-operation, and of the necessity of earnest prayer
and faith in all circumstances of life, and always to remember that
“The Everlasting Arms are underneath.”
When the people were gathered, at the call of the bugle, some sat on
chairs in the shade of wagons, some under umbrellas, some in carriages
and light wagons. Mother and I stood near a carriage, before the
service commenced, when a lady invited us to sit with her and her
children--a little boy of five and a girl of three. We accepted and
were introduced to Mrs. Yager, wife of the physician for the Chilicothe
train, Mr. Dickerson captain. The services were held at their camp.
Mrs. Yager is a Southern Methodist, too. Rev. Austin is a member of the
Chilicothe train. I am glad there is at least one preacher among us.