George H. Gordon, From Brook Farm to Cedar Mountain

[148] been came over me, I shed such tears as I thought never to shed again. Kneeling by him I stroked his face, and then gently raising his head coaxed him to attempt to rise. The rain was beginning to fall, and I wished to shelter him, and also that he might breathe his last in the old stable where he had stood so long. Putting forth all his dying force, and obedient to a call that he knew had never been made.but in love, he staggered to his feet. Gently I led him, tottering and reeling, to his stable, where a soft bed had been prepared. I covered him with blankets, to retain as long as possible the ebbing life. It was now two o'clock. I doubt if there was much pain then; the disease, or narcotics, seemed to stupefy him. Now and then he would still look around at his side, as if there in his stomach, where it had begun, there the disease still remained.

For seven hours “Ashby” hardly moved from the spot where I had placed him in his stall; there was but little restlessness, though his breathing became more rapid and labored, and this increased as the night came on. My last effort to save him was in rubbing his legs with mustard, and applying bandages; but this gave no relief. His breath came shorter and shorter, his head dropped lower and lower, and at a quarter before nine at night he fell dead upon the floor. I heard the rattle of death in his throat, as tenderly I closed his eyes; then turning from him, gently, lovingly, I said: “My poor old friend, my dear old companion, I have tried to be as faithful to you, as you have been true and constant to me.”