Living on the same square with myself was a man of Southern birth. He was a pleasant, agreeable gentleman. I held him in high esteem. I had been called by him to minister in his household in a time of sickness and death. Tenderness of feeling had marked our intercourse in those sad days. He and I had never exchanged a word on the subject of secession. Still, one morning as I met him and as usual saluted him, he did not, as he had been wont to do, return my salutation. I concluded that, absorbed in something else, he did not see me. I could not believe that his seeming discourtesy was intended. Two or three days after, I greeted him again, but obtained from him no sign of recognition. I determined not to give up my friend without one more effort. A week later I met him on the sidewalk near his own door, stood within four feet of him, looked him straight in the face, and said, “Good morning,” calling him by name; but he made no response either by word or look. He was no longer my friend, but my enemy. Why? He had learned from others that I was for the Union,—that was the explanation of his rudeness. During all the war we frequently met, but passed each other as though we were walking, insensate posts. I always felt a strong impulse to speak once more, but I checked it, lest speaking might give to my dumb neighbor useless offence. Such experiences as this were peculiar to those who lived in a border city during the war of the rebellion. But the open alignment of men and women in our city for or against the Union, disturbed, if it did not destroy, in many of our churches the Christian fellowship that had hitherto existed. Where the membership of a church was politically very largely of the same mind, the friction arising from the few in opposition, while deplorable, did not very seriously interfere with its general harmony. In such a case the small minority either remained and held its peace, or else withdrew noisily or quietly, while the main body of the church, freed from irritation and unified, continued its legitimate work with increased power and efficiency. But where the members of a church were about equally divided on the great national issue their contention sometimes became acrimonious. When such conflict was waged, brotherly love was overwhelmed, and the very existence of the church itself was imperilled. I well knew one such church. It occupied, in the northern part of our city, a very important field for aggressive Christian work, but by its internal dissensions its influence for good was neutralized. It was of course no wonder that they were absorbed in the gigantic national battle then being waged. Not only the most vital political interests were at stake, but a great moral question was submitted to the arbitrament of the sword. These Christian men and women were irresistibly impelled to take sides. Some of them were fighting for the Union and against slavery; others against the Union and for slavery. They were all honest