er of the rebel General Pickett.
On the scaffold at Kinston, these twenty-four heroes met their fate with true courage.
In the presence of the rebel forces, and surrounded by the people of their own State, they avowed their entire devotion to the Union.
After receiving the consolation of religion, one of their number stepped forward, and, in a firm and clear voice, declared that he and his companions died, as they had lived, Union men.
One of the victims was a little drummer-boy, named Joey Neal, only fourteen years of age, a fair complexioned, blue-eyed child, an orphan, enlisted in Beaufort by the writer of these lines, out of pure compassion for his destitute state; another, a robust man, Amos Amyett, was tortured for fifteen minutes before the ill-adjusted rope could strangle him to death.
Those twenty-four corpses, swinging between heaven and earth, all that remains of as many brave and loyal North-Carolinians, are not to be forgotten, nor the lessons they teach to be ligh