[123] men, when he was hit in the left ankle. The wound was serious, but was not thought to be fatal. In a few days he was able to reach home, weak and weary, but so cheerful and uncomplaining that his appearance at first disarmed all anxiety as to his recovery. A sad change took place; the hurt was found to be more severe than was at first supposed; the previous strain upon the nervous system had been too great; fever, accompanied by delirium, supervened, and the fine constitution which he carried into the war, worn and shattered by the labors and exposures of one short year, refused to rally from the deep prostration. At four o'clock in the afternoon of July 25th he died unconsciously and without a struggle, of sheer exhaustion. And yet he is not dead; for how fittingly may the true words spoken at the burial of his body be repeated here:—
The life that was still is, but broader, purer, nobler. Let us not weep for our own loss. He has only exchanged this transient life in mortal flesh for an eternal life in immortal memories and undying affections. His shrine is now in our own hearts. His fitting monument is his remembered life. Let us not weep for him. He fought for his country; who could leave a brighter record? He died for his country; who could wish a better epitaph?
