since he was wounded, but found his recovery hopeless. He said to me after the examination, “I suppose you will tell me the result when you think it is best.” It would have dishonored that brave soul to keep it back, and I told him the whole truth. He heard it bravely and cheerfully. He said he hoped his company would be satisfied with him, and feel that he had deserved their confidence; that he was not conscious of having had a single thought for himself after the first bullet was fired. He added that he believed he had the confidence of Colonel Kimball. He lay through this day and the next suffering a good deal, and gradually growing weaker, but with his mind perfectly clear and calm. There is too much of a private and personal nature in the conversations of those two days to make it proper to repeat them here. Dr. Sargent, the distinguished physician who kindly and generously left his pressing professional duties at home to give his dying young friend the benefit of his skill, writes: “I shall consider myself as more than compensated for any sacrifice I have made, by the elevating and purifying influences of that death-bed,—the death of the Christian patriot; of the excellent son and brother, whose translation in the clearness of his intellect, and even in the fulness of wisdom, was such as I never before witnessed.” At about half past 4 on Saturday morning he asked his mother, Do you think I am failing? “ She said, ” Yes. “ He said, While my mind is clear, I should like to pray with you.” He then, in a voice as clear and distinct as his usual voice in health, prayed for a blessing on his friends, thanked God for giving him such a kind mother, for the goodness which had followed him through life, and that he had been enabled to pass the last days of his life surrounded by kind friends, without which they must have been days of terrible anguish. He took leave of each of his friends who were present, and sent kind messages to his near. relatives who were away. He sent his love to Lieutenant Bigelow, a young officer (then Sergeant) of his own regiment, who lay wounded in the same house, and said: “Henry (Lieutenant Bigelow) behaved beautifully. I want General Devens to know it. He ought to have a commission. He is so modest and quiet, that I don't think General Devens knows how much there is in him.” He then spoke to Dr. Sargent, and said: “I have no doubt you have done all you can. I am much obliged to you. I am perfectly satisfied.” He then called his man Isaiah, and said, I hope I have not been unreasonable with you; “I have tried not to be.” The man
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