I remember the _e_ part of the sermon
more distinctly than all of his profound eruditions of theology, dogmas,
creeds and evidences of Christianity, and I only write at this time from
memory of things that happened twenty years ago.
"OUT A LARKING"
At this place, we took Walter Hood out "a larking." The way to go "a
larking" is this: Get an empty meal bag and about a dozen men and go to
some dark forest or open field on some cold, dark, frosty or rainy night,
about five miles from camp. Get someone who does not understand the game
to hold the bag in as stooping and cramped a position as is possible,
to keep perfectly still and quiet, and when he has got in the right fix,
the others to go off to drive in the larks. As soon as they get out of
sight, they break in a run and go back to camp, and go to sleep, leaving
the poor fellow all the time holding the bag.
Well, Walter was as good and as clever a fellow as you ever saw, was
popular with everybody, and as brave and noble a fellow as ever tore a
cartridge, or drew a ramrod, or pulled a trigger, but was the kind of a
boy that was easily "roped in" to fun or fight or anything that would
come up. We all loved him. Poor fellow, he is up yonder--died on the
field of glory and honor.
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