In a formal record, printed in the _North American Review_, Colonel Austen pays high compliment to his chaplain, who, it appears, made his first parade on the occasion of the dedication of the Martyrs’ Tomb at Fort Greene, Brooklyn, on the 30th of May, 1878. “He had been invited,” says Colonel Austen, “and an order forwarded, to which this jovial reply was received: * * * * * “‘BROOKLYN, No. 124 Columbia Heights. “‘MY DEAR COLONEL: “‘I will be present, fully armed and equipped, as becomes a chaplain of the Old Thirteenth. Yours ever, “‘HENRY WARD BEECHER, “‘Captain Secular and Chaplain Spiritual of the Old Thirteenth--God bless her.’ * * * * * “Mr. Beecher had secured a spirited horse, which I had been advised was a Kentucky thoroughbred, and which he proposed to ride. In reply to a suggestion made by me that he might have trouble in the control of so spirited a steed, Mr. Beecher said: ‘I can stand any demonstration as long as the horse enjoys himself.’ “The order to march was given, the drums rolled out their first notes, and the horse, unused to such martial sounds, reared and plunged so that I made an effort to have the music stopped. But Mr. Beecher immediately discountenanced it. The Plymouth pastor firmly held his seat, his horsemanship exciting general admiration. He soon brought the steed under complete control, and, in passing me, on his way to his place in the staff line, he said quietly, ‘I guess this horse was not aware of the fact that I had my training in Indiana. Out there, when I went to visit my parishioners, in my younger days, I didn’t follow the roads, and the rail fences didn’t stand in my way. The horse knows all that now, and will march in line in proper order.’ “Our chaplain was right. His bold Kentucky thoroughbred had been instantly and utterly subdued. Not once again did the animal leave the line; but the fire of his eye showed that it was the master hand alone that held him under control. “On the march the rain began to fall, and, apprehensive of Mr. Beecher’s health, I urged him to leave the line and return home. ‘Are you going to leave?’ and when I replied in the negative, he said: ‘A soldier desert on his first parade? Oh, no; I never do anything by halves. I have enlisted for the war, and my maiden battle must be fought out, even if the big drum has bursted.’” Mr. Beecher’s presence was always the occasion of a marked ovation along the entire line of march when the regiment paraded, and his spirits were of the best. His Peekskill home was his earthly paradise, and every laborer upon it, every animal, almost every insect, had its place in his heart; for that was the wonder of his greatness, that the smallest and the least shared his love and sympathy. His delight in nature was deep, continuous, and sometimes rapturous.