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 done in life, to the goodness of God, and committed himself to his hands without apprehension. And so, on September 24, 1863, he passed away, at the age of thirty, ‘mourned by those who knew him only in the sterner relations of business, as well as by his companions in arms, and in a wide circle of those who respected him as a citizen and loved him as a friend.’ Harvard College has counted her sons among the fallen on many a battle-field. Laurel-crowned they met their fate. By the grave of each we stand with swelling hearts, in pride and reverence. But almost more touching is the self-sacrifice of one who marched bravely and quietly to his doom, not to the sound of the trumpet, not amid the stir and emulation of the conflict, with no prize of fame inciting him to one grand effort, but surrounded by the prosaic details of monotonous labors, which were slowly but surely leading him to his death. Thinking only of doing his duty, of satisfying his General, of righting wrong, of helping to make his country whole againa and free from taint, he kept his post through weariness, illness, and pain, so long as he found strength for each day's work. If to redress grievances and to raise up the oppressed be the office and the crown of chivalry, then no one who ever struck with sword has met his end amid more knightly service than that of William Sturgis Hooper.
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