Such a chaplain would do everything possible for the welfare of the men. During the first leisure season in the regiment’s existence, that in 1861 at Budd’s Ferry, he organized a chess club which conducted exciting tournaments; a literary institute or debating society named after Mayor Frank B. Fay of Chelsea; and a large temperance society bearing the name of their total-abstinence Colonel, Cowdin, which enrolled nearly two hundred soldiers on its pledge, and had fully one-third of the regiment “on the water wagon.” The chaplain’s tent was indeed the social center of the camp. Most important of all was his religious organization. The Y. M. C. A. had not then been introduced; so the chaplain devised an association, which he termed “The Church of the First Regiment.” Their admirable covenant, by which they existed, “You now solemnly covenant, in the presence of God and these your fellow-soldiers, that you will endeavor, by the help of grace, to walk in all the ordinances of the gospel blameless, adorning your Christian profession by a holy life and a godly conversation,” has received much unsolicited praise; and has afforded an inspiring model for other military chaplains. Chaplain Cudworth was idolized by the men. They affectionately called him “Holy Jo”; and he accepted the title as a mark of affection, stipulating however that they must never pervert it into “unholy Jo.” Fifer Bardeen of the 1st Company tells how, in a New York barber-shop, he thrilled the crowd by a narrative of his own supposed heroism in battle, all suggested by a boyhood scar on his head. After he had told enough “whoppers” to set himself up as a hero, he glanced into the mirror and was thunderstruck to see “Holy Jo” occupying the next chair but one. The chaplain knew Bardeen well, and also knew just how true the yarn was not. But under the circumstances he showed his real self by utterly failing to recognize or embarrass the youthful hero. No wonder that Bardeen later wrote concerning the chaplain, “He was a good man, a patriot and a Christian, ready to pray with you at the proper time but never obtruding his piety, and always ready to help you in any way. There was no other officer in the regiment who approached him for genuine manhood of the highest type.” Chaplain Cudworth’s passing was in keeping with the rest of his life. His death was that of a Christian soldier. It happened on Thanksgiving day, 1883, while the Chaplain was participating in a union observance of the day held in a neighbor church, the “Maverick Congregational” of East Boston. As he was standing beside the pulpit in the very act of offering public prayer, suddenly he was heard to exclaim in pain, “I cannot go on.” Before others could reach him, he fell to the floor, dead. CHAPTER VI 1866-1878