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[459] praying to Him for help who has been so merciful to me a sinner.

On the death of his gallant brother, General John Pegram, who fell in the battle of Hatcher's Run, he thus wrote to a comrade in the army:

Words cannot express the grief this blow has brought upon us all. We can only thank God that He did not take him from this world until he had learned to look above it. While we who are left behind can never cease to mourn for one who was so dear to us, we cannot but feel grateful that his death came to him in such a manner—the manner in which he always wished to die; and above all we cannot but feel grateful for the belief that he is enjoying eternal rest and happiness now, and for the hope that we may be united with him hereafter.

The next week he returned to the army.

The days grew darker and still more dark for “the cause,” and like a true soldier he put aside his own grief to speak cheering words to those about him. In Richmond he had heard much talk in regard to the necessity of withdrawing from Virginia. His love for his State was such as God has implanted in the hearts of all true Virginians; and it was a pang to him even to contemplate surrendering the battle-scarred bosom of the “Old mother” to the petty tyrannies of those who hated and feared her. “I would rather die,” he said slowly, “than see Virginia given up, even for three months; but we'll all follow the battle-flag anywhere.”

On the 1st day of April, just as the earth was beginning once more to grow glad with flowers, came to him the last of many fights. The brilliant artillerist, the pride of his corps, who during four years of active service had never lost a gun, was to fall at “Five Forks,” with all his wounds in front, fighting such odds as had never yet confronted him. For two days previous to the battle he had undergone immense fatigue: in the saddle day and night, with slight intermission, for forty-eight hours; wet, hungry, no blankets; engaging almost continually the cavalry of the enemy. On the very morning of the fight his breakfast consisted of a handful of parched corn, which he generously shared with a comrade. In the centre of the line of battle were posted one gun from his own battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Hollis (Ellett's Battery), and a section from Braxton's Battalion, commanded by Lieutenant Early. Further to the

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