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‘ [139] and to beseech His protection and blessing during the continuance of this terrible conflict.’ Hugh White entered at once into the proposal. Rev. A. C. Hopkins (then chaplain of the Second Virginia Infantry, now pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Charlestown, West Virginia, and one of those faithful chaplains who was always found at the post of duty, even when it was the post of hardship or of danger) was found in the bivouac near by and gladly consented to lead the meeting. The men were quietly notified that there would be a prayer-meeting at brigade headquarters as soon as they could assemble, and nearly the whole of this brigade and many from other brigades promptly gathered at the appointed spot. It was a tender, precious season of worship, there in line of battle and in full hearing of the enemy. Colonel Baylor entered into it with the burning zeal of the young Convert—he had found Christ in the camp only a short time before—and Captain Hugh White, with the ripened experience of the Christian of long-standing, and many of the participants, realized, with Jacob of old, that the place was ‘none other than the house of God and the gate of heaven.’ In the great battle which followed the next day, when the Confederate line was pressing grandly forward and driving everything before it, Will Baylor, with the flag of the Thirty-third Virginia in his hands and the shout of victory on his lips, fell in the very forefront of the battle and gave his brave, noble, young life to the land and cause he loved so well and served so faithfully.

As the flag fell from the nerveless grasp of Baylor, Captain Hugh White sprang forward, caught the falling colors, waved them in the view of the veterans of the old ‘Stonewall Brigade,’ and rushing to the front called on them to follow him to victory. The smoke of battle soon concealed the young hero from his comrades, but when the line swept irresistably forward to drive the enemy before them and add ‘Second Manassas’ to the long series of Confederate victories, it was found that Hugh White, too, had been killed, and those two young men who mingled so lovingly in the prayer-meeting of the night before had entered through the pearly gates, were walking the golden streets, and were wearing fadeless crowns of victory.

Mrs. Margaret J. Preston (whose graceful verse has adorned so many bright pages of Southern literature, and who has sung so tenderly from the depths of a full heart concerning the heroes of the Confederacy) thus wrote to Captain White's afflicted mother:

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