■in 3H?moriatn. 
 
 Jbert Stoug Johnston, 
 
 BORN JUNE TWENTY-FIRST, 1861, 
 
 Died January Ninth, 1885. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://archive.org/details/inmemoriamalbertOOjohn 
 

 . 
 
 
 if 311 
 
 RICHMOND, VA., January i6th 1885. 
 Dear Friends: 
 
 We trust that, as we have not the strength in our affliction to 
 write, you will accept this as our notification to you of the death of our only son , 
 Albert Sidney Johnston. 
 
 Dying in his twenty-fourth year, our son will leave no sign, except in the hearts 
 of those who loved him and saw in him the promise of a noble manhood. We 
 send you this brief memorial, not to perpetuate his early virtues, for which the 
 great world has no thought, but to recall for a moment to your minds and hearts 
 one much loved and early lost. Pardon us, if the pride and affection of bereaved 
 parents sets too high a price on what was so precious to them. 
 
 Albert Sidney Johnston was the only son of William Preston Johnston and 
 Rosa Duncan Johnston, and was the fourth in a family of six children. He was 
 born on the twenty-first day of June, 1861, at his father's homestead, in the en- 
 virons of Louisville, Kentucky ; he received the name of his grandfather, who 
 was then in California. His father had already espoused the cause of the South 
 at the time of his birth, and when he was only two months old, his mother, fol- 
 lowing her husband's fortunes, abandoned her home and took her little family 
 South, where they were refugees and wanderers for the four years of the sectional 
 war. He was christened at St. Paul's Church, at Richmond, Va., one week be- 
 fore its capture, with President Jefferson Davis, General G. W. C. Leei and Miss 
 Care, as his sponsors. 
 
 After the close of the war, Colonel Johnston became a professor under Gen- 
 eral Robert E. Lee, in Washington and Lee University, at Lexington, Va. His 
 home was at Clifton, a country place, one mile from Lexington, on the banks of 
 the North (James) River. Here his children grew up, and here Albert received 
 his early training and education. There are many who will recall with a friendly 
 sigh this picturesque home, and the handsome boy, who was its joy. 
 
 Albert was at first taught at home, and afterwards attended the day school of 
 the Rev. (General) William N. Pendleton, and his daughter, Mrs. Susan P. Lee. 
 
 
The warmest affection existed between himself and this family, in which he was 
 treated as a kinsman. He was one year at Washington and Lee University, 
 when he determined to embrace a business life. He had always been a dutiful, 
 but not an ardent student. He had pursued Latin, Mathematics, and the usual 
 branches, but had had no opportunity for instruction in Zoology, which was the 
 only science for which he evinced taste or interest. Books were always irksome 
 to him, though his apprehension of ideas was quick and clear. The great book of 
 Nature he studied after his own methods, and for its own sake, without a hope or 
 ambition for any other reward than the knowledge itself. The desire to earn an 
 independent livelihood turned his attention to a business career. He accepted 
 an offer of employment from Colonel Henry McCormick, of Harrisburg, Penn., 
 who had been his father's classmate at Yale College ; so that, at seventeen years 
 of age, he left home and kindred for an apprenticeship in the iron business. At 
 first he was employed as a clerk at the furnace, and finally as book-keeper for 
 Colonel McCormick's manifold transactions. He remained in these positions 
 until his death, with the interval of one year spent in Louisiana and Virginia, in 
 other duties. He was very faithful, exact, and industrious, and never neglected 
 any duty. He gave entire satisfaction, and received steady promotion. 
 
 In Albert's early education, his parents aimed at moral and physical complete- 
 ness rather than at mere intellectual superiority, and they believe the result was 
 attained. He was a very beautiful boy, and grew to a noble and manly presence, 
 with a strong resemblence to the grandfather for whom he was named, which 
 resemblance extended likewise to mind and character. He was over six feet in 
 height, with a powerful and active frame, and a physical organization, free from 
 spot or blemish. His hair and eyes were light brown ; his features regular and 
 handsome ; his teeth very strong, regular and white ; his coloring fresh and fair. 
 His bearing was commanding and dignified for one so young, and his manners 
 had a natural sweetness and grace, in which cordiality and deference were 
 blended. He was utterly devoid of affectation and arrogance, and young and 
 old were attracted by his friendly ways. His conversation was a reflex of his 
 mind, unambitious, but sensible and to the point. 
 
 Brought up under the shadow of the Blue Ridge, in the simple and hardy life 
 of our Virginia boys, his nature was entirely wholesome and clean. It easily 
 
resisted the greater vices, and readily threw off those foibles and errors into 
 which the generous and social impulses of youth so easily entice us. Finding 
 that smoking tobacco had grown upon him into an exacting habit, in his last 
 year he limited himself to a very small indulgence in it, and he also absolutely 
 refrained from every form of ardent spirits. In his last illness, when the physician 
 ordered stimulants for him, he could not be induced to take them, except at his 
 father's request. He would say, even in his delirium, " It is against my con- 
 science." 
 
 Self control had been set before him as the law of his being, and he conformed 
 to it with a resolution and purpose remarkable in these days. This was not so 
 hard for him, as for many. He was by nature abstemious. When a mere lad he 
 would leave a table spread with many dishes to break his fast on plain porridge 
 and milk before a day of hard hunting. And though devoted to field sports and 
 the severest exercises, he was very scrupulous as to personal neatness. Delicacy 
 and strength were combined in his character, and he had a strong love for the 
 beautiful. His room was decorated with chaste and simple beauty, so far as his 
 poor means permitted 
 
 He was very fond of his dogs, his horse and his gun. These were freely allowed 
 him in his youth, and it was a great privation to him that he could not enjoy 
 them at Harrisburg. He was extremely fond of hunting, especially of driving 
 the deer in the mountains, and had killed his deer before he was fifteen. He 
 was one of a choice band of as noble huntsmen as ever followed hound. In his 
 last illness, in the wild and wandering thoughts of fever, he fancied continually 
 that he was treading the piny slopes of the Alleghanies and listening to the cry 
 of his pack. In such a dream he said to his father mournfully. " I am not much 
 of a business man, but I am a good huntsman." But he did not like to inflict 
 suffering, and frequently said to his father, " It is hard to kill a deer, they have 
 such pleading eyes." 
 
 He had a steady friendship and understanding with all dumb animals, but his 
 dogs were his favorites. There was something very touching in his last act 
 when he left his boyhood's home. His dogs had been given to his friends as 
 parting gifts, but he wound his hunter's horn, as he was departing, and called 
 them all around him for a last farewell. 
 

 He loved all Nature, especially in its wild beauty. But his chief pleasure was 
 in birds, and this not in any ordinary sense. He knew more about them than 
 anybody we ever saw. He did not learn about them in books, but from a de- 
 lightful companionship. This began with the poultry yard, and with his chickens, 
 in whose courage and beauty he took great pleasure. But he reared all manner 
 of birds, and Clifton was a haunt for tame hawks, falcons and owls, which lived 
 among the trees, not molesting their foster brothers of lowlier birth in the poul- 
 try yard. All the native birds he knew familiarly, and their nests, eggs, plumage 
 and habits, with an accuracy which might have instructed a scientific ornitholo- 
 gist. His practical knowledge was so full in this field of observation that he 
 might readily have attained note in it, if he had had any ambition about it. He 
 knew birds well, because he loved them so much, and, though so keen a sports- 
 man, rarely killed them. In his last illness he said to his father, " It is a pitiful 
 thing to see a little bird die." 
 
 A business career was not his parents' plan of life for him, nor his own wish, 
 though it was the choice of both. It was his and their hope, that after a few 
 years of preparation he might find a home on a farm among the hills of Virginia, 
 which he loved so well. This was their dream, which has been broken. It was 
 thought the exact habits of business which he had acquired, would be the best 
 guaranty of success in any career, and that the patient industry, self-reliance and 
 dutifulness of his life in Harrisburg would be the fittest preparation for any future 
 which might open to him. And so it has been. But it was a heavy burthen on one 
 so young and full of ardor to change the free life of nature to which he had been 
 used for the toil of the ledger and desk. He did his part manfully and without 
 complaining. He said to his father, among his last words, " I have earned my 
 living honestly — perfectly so ; but it has been by pretty hard work." 
 
 His life in Harrisburg was a very quiet one. He received great kindness from 
 the families of Colonel McCormick and Mr. David Watts, who was in the office 
 with him. 
 
 Although the good people of Harrisburg extended to him many kindnesses 
 and attentions, a certain natural reserve prevented him from sharing as fully in 
 the social pleasures of the place as his friends desired. This had, however, 
 gradually worn off, and in the last year of his life, he saw more of the social life 
 
of the little capital. He became a favorite there, and in his last illness a genuine 
 and generous interest was evinced by many kind attentions, for which his parents 
 now offer this inadequate acknowledgment of their poor thanks. 
 
 Albert was taken sick early in November. His mother was very ill in Rich- 
 mond, Va., and he was anxious to visit her, but his own malady prevented. At 
 first he went to the house of his friend, Mr. David Watts, but when he found 
 that he was apt to have a serious attack, he had himself removed, on the 21st of 
 November, to the Harrisburg Hospital. He forbore to acquaint his family with 
 the severity of his disease for fear of adding to his mother's distress. But as 
 soon as they surmised it, his father and his sister, Mrs. Tucker, early in Decem- 
 ber, went to his bedside and remained with him till he died. They were assisted 
 in nursing him by a kind friend, Mrs. F. B. Taliafero, of Richmond, Va. 
 
 Soon after their arrival, the disease manifested itself as typhoid fever of a pecu- 
 liarly malignant type. His illness was one long struggle, of eight weeks from its 
 beginning, between a mortal malady and a constitution as nearly perfect as the 
 human body permits, and entirely unimpaired. It was three weeks before the 
 brain was affected at all, and even in the delirium of fever he preserved a lucidity 
 which comprehended his surroundings, and recognized the physicians and friends 
 who ministered to him, and obeyed their requests. His treatment by Dr. T. J. 
 Dunott, his physician, and his assistant, Dr. F. Fithian, was kind, intelligent and 
 skilful, and his nursing careful, vigilant and tender. His friends were constantly 
 buoyed up by the hope of his mastering the disease. But where he gained by 
 inches, he lost by relapses, attributable only to the virulence of the typhoid 
 poison. His strength and vitality were remarkable, but at length blood poison- 
 ing ensued, and at last, on the 9th of January, 1885, at five minutes past one in 
 the afternoon he passed into his eternal rest. After all his suffering he breathed 
 his last in his father's arms as quietly as an infant falls asleep. 
 
 Except when under the influence of opiates, he had all along shown reason- 
 ableness in his fever; but when he came from under their drowsy spell, at the 
 very last, though so feeble, his mind cleared. The presence of his sister and 
 father had been the greatest comfort to him. Now he drew his sister down, 
 wiped away her tears, and kissed her repeatedly. His last conscious act was to 
 
put his arm around his father's neck, hold him close to him, and kiss him many 
 times. Thus he passed away. 
 
 His body was taken to Louisville, Ky., in charge of his kind friends, Mr Simon 
 Cameron, Jr., and Mr. William Bailey, of Harrisburg, and his brother-in-law, 
 George A. Robinson, of Louisville. Here it was met by loving kinsmen and 
 friends of his youth. His body was carried to the house of Mr. R. A. Robinson, 
 and treated with affectionate respect. On Sunday, January nth, after a touching 
 funeral service by Bishop Penick at St Andrew's Church, he was buried among 
 his people, by his father's mother, in Cave Hill Cemetery. His remains repose 
 in sight of his birth place. 
 
 Our boy was brought up, so far as our light permitted us, in the way of piety 
 duty and honor. He was intended for a sturdy manhood. He was taught that 
 he was here for others, and not for himself; that honorable labor was his ap- 
 pointed lot, and that he was to do the thing that was right. He learned these 
 lessons well, and acted them out. He bore a great name and had a charge to keep 
 it stainless. This he did. It was often remarked, how little he cared for ap- 
 plause, but no one ever knew him to do a mean or unbecoming thing. We 
 never knew him to tell a lie, from babyhood even, and he took pains to be exact 
 in his statements. He was very brave and resolute, as was evinced on several 
 memorable occasions, but he was also remarkably peaceable. No one had fewer 
 quarrels, and he never lost a friend, though he had many. Though his association 
 was wide and easy, he had only a few very dear friends, and these were such as 
 we would have chosen for him in all the world. He was gallant and deferential 
 to ladies, and fond of their society, though he permitted himself no great indul- 
 gence in it. To his sisters he was a devoted brother. His intelligence was 
 strong and clear; his judgment calm and tolerant; his life clean, virtuous, and 
 temperate ; his whole nature pure, manly and generous. To both parents, he 
 was a dutiful and affectionate son ; to his father, a companion and friend who 
 can never be replaced. 
 
 The last letter he wrote was one to his mother, lamenting some follies of his 
 youth, and promising that the self-restraint which had controlled his later action 
 should be the rule of his life, and telling her that his love for her drew him nearer 
 to her church. 
 
He was such a young man as God loves, and when the Eternal Father 
 claimed him, his earthly parents feel that he is in hands tenderer and more 
 loving than their own. " We will go to him, but he will not return to us." " We 
 will go down into the grave unto our son mourning." A light has gone out of 
 our life here. But we rest assured that the All Merciful will restore to us our 
 son, and that our prayers for his happiness have been answered by giving him 
 the Eternal Life. 
 
 WM. PRESTON JOHNSTON, 
 ROSA DUNCAN JOHNSTON.