Decatur, Ala., May 15, 1864.

 

Dear Mother:

                        Here I am still in Decatur, and I know not when I may depart. The probability seems to be now that we will yet remain for several days, until things are somewhat settled in front, and the Regiment goes into camp somewhere.

 

            Some time since I spoke of a remarkable experience that I passed through during my sickness and promised to tell you more concerning it at another nam time. It connected itself with and was the turning point of my disease. I had passed a very feverish, restless night. Daylight came and I tried to sleep. But a strange, wild fancy took possession of my fevered brain. I thought that some one was in pursuit of me, who / was trying to establish my identity as the person who had committed a murder in New York city several years ago. I could see the pursuers on my track, and every movement of mine seemed to corroborate the charge. I tried to crush out the fancy, knowing its absurdity. But stronger and stronger grew its hold upon me. Finally it seemed to gain complete mastery of my left side, whilst reason still held its sway over the right. I was in agony. The left wished to yield and give up the contest; but firmly I said No. I prayed for strength to overcome. Then I thought I discovered in my pursuer an angel of darkness. I defied it. Then it changed to an angel of light, and uttered new commands. But I still recognized it, and would not obey. But it attacked me with renewed force, and my / agony became intense and unsupportable. Unable longer to contain myself I cried out: "Merciful Heavens! I must give up! There is no use in fighting longer!" The nurse who was in the room came to my side and asked what was the matter. I told him. He inquired if I was a professor of religion. I told him yes. "Your difficulty" said he, "may be a religious one. Perhaps God is trying your faith." And he recommended earnest prayer. It was an entirely new idea to me. I had not dreamed of such a thing. But I complied with his recommendation, praying very earnestly. Almost in an instant the phantom vanished, and a light from heaven seemed to burst upon me. And oh, what unutterable peace filled my breast. Strengthening forms now seemed to hover around me. I recollect well the joy that my deliverance caused me. I seemed to be recounting my experience to a group, / when one of them said, "And you, poor coward, was about to give up just as the victory was yours." I assented to the truth of the remark, and in my joy it did not in the least offend me. One form assumed a definite shape,—that of a Jewish maiden. She was invisible, but I was as conscious of her presence as of my own. Her quaint Jewish ways and talk seemed to interest me much. In every possible way she strove to aid me. At last as nightfall gathered, she drew together the coals upon the hearth and said: "Come, let us offer a sacrifice; this is Holy ground." I answered "not so. The old Dispensation is past. The sacrifices of God are a broken and contrite heart." She assented to the truth of my words and then vanished, and soon I fell into a quiet slumber. From the hour of my riddance of the phantom I began to improve.

 

            Such was my experience. What wonderful mercy did God display toward me. Just at that critical hour, he sent to my bedside a Christian nurse, and one to whose mind He suggested the cause of my trouble. God has been teaching me valuable lessons by my illness; lessons I hope I may never forget.

 

            I am improving rapidly

 

            We have had but one alarm here since last I wrote, and that was just as I had finished sealing my letter. There were not more than a dozen shots fired however, and we soon returned to our quarters. Matters are becoming quiet, and there exists very little apprehension of an attack. We would be well prepared for them, if they were to come, and they would not find us napping.

 

            How I wish that I could be at home this beautiful Sabbath day to enjoy religious privileges.

 

            Write to me, and direct simply to Decatur naming no Regiment or Company.

                                   

Your aff. Son,

George.

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