In the early part of the war, both Father and my second brother, John,
joined the militia, which was later disbanded. Before the war closed,
Father reached his 45th year and after that was too old to go as a soldier.
John was quite patriotic and wanted to enlist for regular service.
Nevertheless, he and my oldest brother went to Illinois to attend school.
When they started, Mother said, "John, don't enlist in the army any more."
"Mother," he answered, "I won't unless they draft me; but if they draft I
will volunteer, for I don't like the treatment of a drafted soldier."

Soon a rumor came that a draft was to be made, on purpose, I suppose, to
"beat up" volunteers. So to avoid being drafted, my brother volunteered. He
had been exposed to the measles shortly before his enlistment, but supposed
that when he joined the army he would get a furlough for at least twenty
days. He was disappointed: next day they got marching orders. He took the
measles, had to go out on duty when not able, took cold, and soon died with
congestion of the lungs. His body lies in the soldiers' graveyard at
Chattanooga, Tenn.

About the year 1894, I think, while my youngest brother and I were out in
gospel work, the Lord greatly burdened my heart to pray for Mother's
support. My brother and I were supposed to help provide for her; and at
this time Mother was especially in need, although I did not know it. The
Lord showed me that I should save up what I had on hands for Mother's
support until I should reach home, and that if I did not I would feel very
sorry.

I did as God directed. When I reached home, Mother began to tell me of the
poor crops and other drawbacks and what a hard time they had had. I told
her I was glad to see that she had salvation, even if she did not have much
of this world's goods, for I had seen many people with much of this world's