Russell H. Conwell, founder of the Institutional church in America : $b the work and the manBurr, Agnes Rush
Religion
Russell H. Conwell, founder of the Institutional church in America : $b the work and the man
Burr, Agnes Rush
Conwell, Russell H., 1843-1925; Minneapolis (Minn.) -- Biography
From Huntington the company went into camp at Springfield. And now
came into use, those tactics and drills he had studied as a boy, and
others he had been secretly studying ever since the war broke out. His
men were astonished to find how perfectly at home he was in military
tactics. It further added to their pride in him. They fully expected
him to know as little as they, but when he came to his work fully
prepared, to their admiration of him as an orator, their love as a
leader, was now added their confidence as an officer.
Camp life at Springfield made war no longer a glorious contemplation
but an uncomfortable reality. The ground for a bed, a spadeful
of earth for a pillow, sharp mountain winds, cold autumn storms,
insufficient food, hinted at the hardships to follow. The gold and the
alloy in the men's characters began to shine out, and Company F soon
realized in practical ways, the nature of the man who led them. His
new uniform overcoat went to a shivering boy, his rations were divided
with those less fortunate, his blankets were given to a comrade in
need. Always it was of his men, not himself, he thought.
Before leaving camp for the seat of war, Captain Conwell was presented
with a sword by his Company, bearing this inscription:--
"Presented to Captain Russell H. Conwell by the soldiers of Company F,
46th Mass. Vol. Militia, known as 'The Mountain Boys.' Vera Amicitia
est sempiterna. (True friendship is eternal.)" Colonel Shurtleff made
the speech of presentation. The passionately eloquent reply of the
boy captain is yet remembered by those who heard it. He received the
beautiful, glittering weapon in silence. Slowly he drew the gleaming
steel from its golden sheath and solemnly held it upward as if
dedicating it to heaven, the sunlight bathing the blade with blinding
flashes of light. His eyes were fixed upon the steel, as if in a rapt
vision, he swept the centuries past, the centuries to come, and saw
what it stood for in the destinies of men. Breathless silence fell
upon his waiting comrades. Thus for a few moments he stood and then he
spoke to the sword.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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