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[180] review to a close, conscious, in the light of my own remembrance of his princely soul, of how far this portraiture falls short of the embodiment of his moral and mental grandeur.

The incident referred to is this. Sergeant Glennan writes to the speaker:

At headquarters there was a detail of couriers, consisting of youths from 16 to 18 years. They were the bravest boys that I have ever seen. Their courage was magnificent; they were on the go all the time, carrying orders and messages to every part of the fort.

Among them was a boy named Murphy, a delicate stripling. He was, I think, from Dublin county, the son of Mr. Patrick Murphy, I think, and brother of Dr. Murphy, of the Morganton Asylum. The former was a citizen of Wilmington for many years after the war, and a true son of the “Lost cause.” He and I were intimate friends and companions. He had been called upon a number of times to carry orders, and had just returned from one of his trips, I think to Battery Buchanan. The bombardment had been terrific, and he seemed very exhausted and agitated. After reporting, he came to me, and tears were in his eyes; “Sergeant,” he said, “I have no fear personally; morally I have, because I do not think I am the Christian I ought to be. This is my only fear of death.”

And then he was called to carry another order. He slightly wavered, and General Whiting saw the emotion; “Come on, my boy,” he said, “don't fear; I'll go with you.” And he went off with the courier, and accompanied him to and from the point where he had to deliver the order. It was to one of the most dangerous positions, and over almost unprotected ground. The boy and the general were companions on the trip, and they returned safely. There was no agitation after that on the part of my companion.

That evening he shouldered his gun, when every man was ordered on duty to protect the fort from the charge of General Terry's men. The boy met death soon, and his spirit was wafted onward to a Heavenly home.

The General received his mortal wound in the same contest, in the thickest of the fight.

I tried to find the remains of my dear boy friend, but in vain. He rests in a nameless grave, but his memory shall ever be treasured.

When, a few days hence, the patriotic women of this city and


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