or trivial war. Who is to say when we have fought enough?
The South seems to be animated by the same feelings that prompted the heroes of the Revolution.
They are fighting for liberty, they think; and if they think so, it is the same as if they really were.
They seem to believe their cause a just one.
Many a brave man must bite the dust before we have peace again.
War is a sad thing, after all. I pity the friends who stay at home to mourn, more than those who go to die. I am ready to die in this cause.
From the first, I gave myself wholly to it.”
In another letter at a later time he says, “I did not come to this war hastily: I counted the cost.”
From what is known of him, it appears plain that he grew more and more into the spirit of earnestness, and that a clear comprehension of the nature of the struggle in all its bearings was being developed in his mind.
But the career of Major How was a short one.
He went forth in the summer campaign of 1862 with the fresh and joyous army of McClellan
, on their march to Richmond
; but when that army returned to Washington
, baffled and disheartened, he was not with them.
On the 30th of June, while engaged in battle before Richmond
, he received a musket-ball in the breast, and fell mortally wounded.
It was late in the afternoon, and his regiment was about to make a charge upon the enemy.
He walked several steps towards the rear, and insisted upon going farther, but was taken on a blanket to a place of safety.
He lived about two hours, during which time he had full command of his mind.
One of his personal friends, Dr. E. G. Frothingham, Jr.
, thus describes the scene:—
He shared with his men their victories: he now shares with a large portion of his regiment a soldier's grave.
Colonel Hinks, who was wounded at the same time, was brought to the side of the Major.
With one hand clasped in that of his valued friend, Captain Merritt, he left a few messages for his relatives and friends, and as his last words said, “ I know I must die. I am willing to die in so good a cause.
Let me be wrapped in the flag presented me by my friends in Haverhill, and if possible let me be buried at home,” — and passed away as quietly as an infant.
) A. F. Devereux
of the Nineteenth Massachusetts, says:—