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 face was calm and natural, and his eyes indicated intelligence. It was in this state that he was taken to one of the Confederate hospitals. No medical skill could save his life. He lingered from Friday until Sunday morning, the 8th of May, and then yielded his brave spirit into the hands of its Maker. There is something touching in the manner in which his remains were recovered. One Patrick McCracken, who had been a prisoner for nine weeks in the Old Capitol, while the General was Military Governor of Washington, and had known how just and true a man he was to foes as well as to friends, saw him as he lay in the hospital on the day of his death, and, by permission of the surgeon in charge, carefully interred the body in a family burial-ground. A few weeks afterwards, through his information and assistance, it was restored to his friends, and removed with every demonstration of love and respect to his native town, where it was finally buried. Thus died James Samuel Wadsworth, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and in the full strength of his manhood. Many a true, and brave, and noble soldier fell on that bloody field, but none truer, or braver, or nobler than he. Many a patriot consummated there the long record of his sacrifices, but none left a brighter and purer record of sacrifices than his. In this war, which has been illustrated by so many instances of heroism, it seems almost unjust to compare one man's services with another's; and Wadsworth, with his unaffected modesty, and his reverence for worth wherever it existed, if his spirit could sit in judgment on our words, would rebuke us for attributing to him a more genuine loyalty than that which animated many a poor private who fell by his side. But when we remember how entirely impossible it was in his case that his worldly advantages should have been increased by military service, and how often it is that a mixture of motives impels men to undertake such duty, we feel that we can give our praise to him with fuller hearts, in unstinted measure, and with no reservations or perplexing doubts. As he lay upon the field, in the midst of the dead and the dying, in that awful interval between the retreat of his own
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