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Some of my most profitable hours have I spent in his company, while in our tent, or log-house, after the day's duties were done. Those were the hours in which he delighted to speak of his “beautiful home,” as he termed it, as well as of the temptations of camplife, and the regard he felt for the spiritual welfare of his brother officers and fellow-soldiers.

The same union of qualities was exhibited in the closing scenes of his life. Before the disastrous battle of Fredericksburg, he seems to have had one of those presentiments which we count so singular and impressive when fulfilled,—though many more may pass unnoticed, when contradicted by the event,—remarking to his captain that he did not expect to come out of another battle safely. When the day arrived, he was one of the first to volunteer, and was among the earliest of those who crossed the Rappahannock and took possession of the city. Colonel Devereux, his commander, thus narrates the rest:—

His regiment being ordered to charge the batteries directly in front, there were shot down in the storm of bullets that met them no less than eight color-bearers in succession. At one time both were killed at once, and both colors lay on the ground. Here was an opportunity for a self-sacrificing manhood that young Newcomb was eminently fitted to put forth. Rushing to the front, he seized both colors, and waved his regiment on. But the inevitable consequence followed. Like all who had preceded him, and those that followed, every man that bore a color was the fated object of the unerring bullets of the enemy's sharpshooters whilst the regiment remained in the open field. Newcomb was wounded in both legs, which were very much shattered, and his system could not sustain the shock of amputation.

This occurred in the third assault upon the enemy's works, in the afternoon of December 13th. For nearly a week he lingered, ‘fighting, struggling for existence as only a strong man can.’ Amid intense pain, his brother, who arrived at Falmouth just before the battle, could hear him softly repeating, ‘Perfect through suffering,—perfect through suffering.’ He held and watched wistfully the pictured faces of those dear ones he was to see no more on earth; and in an interval

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Falmouth, Va. (Virginia, United States) (1)

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Mary S. Newcomb (2)
A. F. Devereux (1)
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December 13th (1)
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