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THE
SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
BY
HIS FATHER.
NEW YOIRK:
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH,
No. 683 BROADWAY.
1863.




Entered, according to Act of Congrese, in thie yeiee 1 ~;:
By AINiSON  D. F. RA.VDOLPI,
tn the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Unitedil  itttec
the Southern District of New York.
EDWAPbD 0. JEEN<KINS.
riliter  anli' trcaofpcSr,
No. 20 NooTn WmILLeAno ST.




New York, April 15, 1863.
Rev. J. P. Thompson, D. D.,
Dear Sir: —Fully recognizing the paternal privilege of preserving in your own hzeart's sanctuary the
memory of a child whose life and death have been
alike happy and honorable, and appreciating also
your natural unwillingness to compile for publication the facts and circumstances which mazcde the last
months of your son SERGEANT JOHN H. THoMPsON
so precious, still, permit ius, on behalf of the young
men of your Church, to suggest that as he gave himself and his life to his country, his countrymen, his
comrades, young men all through the land, for their
own profit and encouragement in this dar'k howr of
their country's history, h4ave a right to know and
perpetuate those prinzciples which prompted him to
go forth to die, "having on the whole armor."
May we not hope, also, that incorporated with the
above there may be the record of some of those patri3




4            V00RRESPONDENCE.
otic thoughts which his death aroused in your own
heart and in the hearts of the many who knew him,
and who mourn with you the loss his country has
sustained?
Trusting you will be induced to accede to our
request, and at your earliest convenience place the
manuscript in our hands,
We remain,
In the bonds of Christian sympathy,
Yours truly,
HENRY C. HALL,        WM. A. JENNINGS,
CHARLES BELL,         A. JENNINGS,
W. H. BRIDGMAN,       R. W. HIASKINS,
CHARLES T. RODGERS.  CHAKRLES L. HALL,
W' H. THOMSON,        W. D. MOORE,
HENRY K. WHITE,       WILLIAM E. GAVIT,
F. B. LITTLLEJOHN,    JOSEPH H. WHITEHEA D,
J. A. A. MGEE,        FRED. M. ROBINSON,
GEO. G. HALL,         AUSTIN ABBOTT,
E. N. RANNY,          CHAS. S. SMITH,
AMBROSE LEONARD,    L. M. BATES.




32 West Thirty-Sixth Street, May 22, 1863.
3My Dear Friends:-In, consequence of my absence from the city, your kind letter of the 15th ult.
has but just now come into my hands.  It meets me
u.pon my return from a visit to my son's regiment,
where I found his memory as fresh cand tender as on
the day owhen his comrades delivered to me his dear
remains.
" He did not aspire to distinction," said an oficer;
"he was only anxious to serve his country. He was
too modest for a soldier, too modest for anything in
this world."  How, then, can I accede to your reguest,
and unveil that gentle, retiring life?
" Every one of us," said a tent-mate, " has some
little memento of the Sergeant;-we thought so nvuch
of him; and if you could send us his picture, or
some sketch of his life, we should prize it so much!"
And when Ifind this.spontaneous regquest of his comrades in arms seconded by the spontaneous request of
(6)




6. 0  COR ESP ONTDECE.
my own" Young Jfen's Bible Class," many of whom
kcnew him as a brother in Christ, how can I withhold from his country the memory of one who, while
he sought nothing for himself, gave all he had to her
cause?
And so, at once doubting and trusting, I place
these fragmentvry thoughts and memoirs at your
disposal.          Your grateful Pastor,
JOSEPH P. THOMPSON.
Messrs. HENRY C. HALL,
CHAIBLES BELL, and others.




THE
SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.








x*       *  *!t was Sabbath evening. I
had preached to young men upon purity of
life and a true faith in Christ as the highest manliness and the best qualification for
serving their country and mankind. As I
left the church, a friend inquired of'the
army boy;' and this had led to pleasant talk
of one who early learned to follow whatever
was pure and lovely and of good report.
Just at the time of rest came a violent ring,
and a telegram. My heart read it before it
was opened; but those few hurried words" Your son is dangerously ill-come at once,"
-awoke every energy of fear, hope, love.
In an instant I had started, only to learn
that no train would leave till morning. He
there, in Virginia; in tent or cabin, sick,
(9)




10     THE SERGEAL'T'S MEMORIAL.
weary, dying, and I not able to move toward him for hours, when every moment was
an hour, and every hour a day, and a day
was a life. Hemmed in by the impossible!
Nay-shut up to Him who, like a Father,
pitieth his children.
My heart told me he was already dead.
Why then should I be so impatient to reach
him? Did not my heart bury him when it
said Go?  Yet by the first and fastest train
I was on my way-whither?-to what?
Again detained in Baltimore, my heart
now said, " he is not dead-I will procure a
furlough; or if not this, will convey him to
the best hospital; or if not this, will watch
by his side; I will take with me provision
for every comfort, against any emergency;
I will send for the home physician; the
freest and the best must be for the boy
who has given everything for me, for his
country;"-the click of the he teegraph in the
hotel office said, " Your son died this morning." Died this morning? Yet though all
is over, I cannot wait for the train to-mor



TITE SERGEA4T'TS i~EMORLdL.    11
row: the express to-night will, must stop,
and leave me by the road-side near his camp.
As I enter the train, the sentinel with
loaded musket and fixed bayonet, challenges
me for the inspection of pass and baggage.
The car is filled with soldiers. As we move
on, there are guards at every bridge, at
every station; I am withiin the seat of war.
It is far past midnight when we reach Harper's Ferry; through the gloom I look unconsciously for his camp as it was last summer, and for the greeting of surprise he gave
me then. We are at Martinsburg; it is but
ten days since he left here, and his last letter
described the heavy, weary march, through
mud and snow. Those picket fires under
the open sky-how  many nights has he
paced thus, watching through storm  and
cold!
The train slackens; it is for me; I barely
jump to the ground, when the living rush
on their course, leaving me to seek the
dead; —alone, in the dark, where the sentry
is pacing to challenge me, where all is




12     TIlE SER GEPANT'S iWEMORIAL.
strange, and gloomy, and desolate. No —not all strange; some one speaks my own
name; " I am Captain Paine;" a friendly
arm leads me to the house; a friendly voice,
not without emotion, tells me of the last
scene. I go up into the little chamber
where two soldiers are watching their dead.
Tenderly and reverently they uncover the
face: —IT IS MY FIRST BORN!




II.
E was my first born.  Twenty years ago
he came to bless my early manhood in
the spring-time of my ministry; to open
within me a strange new life that seemed
another self, that was to be my imitative
self, my counterpart self, and by-and-by my
posthumous self. What hlope enters into a
man, what love goes out from him, when he
thus begins to live in his first-born son!
Heir to no affluence, family, fame, he was
heir to Liberty through the blood of Puritan and Covenanter mingling with the martyr-blood of the Revolution, and heir through
many generations to the covenanted grace
of God.*
* John Hanson Thompson was born at New Haven, Conn.,
September 3, 1842. His earliest ancestor in this country was
2                 (13)




14         THEE SERGyEANT'S MEMORIAL.
At the time of his baptism, one of the
first theologians of the land was my guest.
I asked him-" if his parents are sincere
and faithful, if faith is strong and teaching
John Thompson, one of the first settlers of Stratford, Conn., who
came over from London in 1635. A well-preserved family tradition relates that he came out at first to see the country, and soon
returned to England to make arrangements for a permanent removal. To reach his home, he had to diverge from the main road
and to go some miles afoot. A farmer upon the route, learning
that he was from America, detained him to take a meal and to give
the news. Thompson described the new country as full of sav-,age beasts and savage men; but added, with a tone of exultation,
that he should go back, notwithstanding, for there one could worship God according to his conscience. "Is that indeed so? Would
-that I were there," exclaimed )Mirable, one of three buxom
daughters at the table.  "But, could you," asked Thompson,
"for the sake of Christ, endure the trials and perils of that wild
and fIm-off country? " "Yes, gladly, by God's help," answered
Mirable. This young Puritan maiden had not long before been
publicly exposed in the pillory for attending a Separatist. conventicle. When John Thompson returned to New England, Mirable
came also, as his wife; of whom was Ambrose (1652), of whom
was Joh~n (1680), of whom was John (1717), of whom was Williain
(1742), of whom was Josephb (1769), of whom was Isaac, yet living, of whom was Joseph Parriswh, of whom was Joho7  Iaccnson.
This tHanson represents a family of Covenanters, my maternal
ancestors, driven from Scotland to the North of Ireland by the
storm of persecution.
William Thompson, above (born 1742), was a Lieutenant under
General Wooster's command, and fell at Plidgefield, Conn., April
27, 1777, " bravely fighting for the liberties of his country." He
was -buried-at Stratford, and his tombstone records that " he lived
greatly beloved, and died universally lamented."




THE SERGEANT'S MEM ORIAL.    15
true, is there any reason why this child
should not, from his first moral consciousness, be God's willing holy child?" I received no light then; though my friend
thinks he has found it in the theory of a preexistent state of probation and fall. This I
know, and this the boy came to know and
acknowledge - that he did not grow up
without sin, and that the way into the kingdom was through renewal and sanctifying
grace. Yet this also I know, and will testify, that from infancy he was so gentle and
pure, so conscientious and sincere, so loving and true, that he gave large hope of
early piety to those who watched his training; and these qualities, like his very features, grew only the more marked in the
same mould, as he grew in years. It was a
household saying, that "Johnny was never
known to deceive;" and no member of the
family can recall any unpleasant passage or
incident in his home-life. Very precious is
the memory of that life; —too precious to be
here unveiled.




SOME rough winds blew upon that young
life, some dark clouds gathered about it,
and clinging to his father with the strength
and the gentleness of an unquestioning
faith, the boy of nine crossed the sea to find
new homes in England, France, Italy. The
pet of the sailors -climbing fearlessly into
the topmast, and running over the rigging
like a squirrel,-the pet of the cabin —
making his merry laugh chase away the inertia of sea-life; now pacing the quarterdeck in the captain's watch, now sighting the
compass for the man at the wheel, now with
Jack in the forecastle, now trolling his line
astern, now on the lookout for whales or icebergs,-how the child baffled the sea, and
(16)




Trl   SERG~E;iNT'S MEMORIAL.   17
made even sickness and fears brighten into
health and hope! Then it was that his soul
became a part of mine.
"What a little gentleman he was," say
the good American friends who gave him his
first home in England; "so kind, so polite~
so tidy, so merry, so obliging. How we all
loved him!" And a dear English lady, who
welcomed him almost with a love of adoption, and who has since tasted the bitterness
of parting with her first born, writes, "I
look back at his face as I knew it, almost
too sweet and patient-looking for a child,
and then at the picture of him in his regimental great-coat, with his sword by his
side, and realize with tears and sorrow all
you have lost! Rather one should say, lost
sight of, for it is not lost, but gone before."`
For months in Paris, in the family of my
dear friend, Rev. Leon Pilatte,t forgetting
his English with Mademoiselle, learning the
* Mrs. Joseph Warne, of Oxford.
f Mr. Pilatte is now pastor of a Waldensian church at Nice,
France.




1  THIE SERGE ANT'S MEMOlILAZL
games of French children in the Luxembourg, and the wonders of nature in the Jardin des Plantes; then for other months at
Mentone, in Italy, learning to swim, in the
Mediterranean, and to climb upon the maritime Alps; counting bread and olives better
than the richest dairies of America, and the
costume of the simple villagers better than
the pageantry of Hyde Park; how many
lessons of man, of society, of life, did his
young heart receive for future moulding, all
under the guiding hand of that religious
household in which the piety of France and
of America were so happily blended. For
nearly a year he knew no other home.
"He was a boy," writes Mrs. P., " I would
have given as a model to my own children;;and how often have I regretted that my,own little boys have not known him, eopecially now that my eldest (ten, last De-.cember), just the age he was when with us,
so often makes me think of him.  Dear
Johnny's picture of Mentone is very truthful.'Those were happy days I spent there!'




THE,SPERG EANT'S uIEJJORIAL.    19'he says, and we say so too, adding that he
himself stands out in bright colors among
our reminiscences of Mentone, with his
bright eyes and beaming face-a face I cannot well forget.
" I think John was an extraordinary child.
He possessed those qualities which in childhood or. manhood are rightly called noble;
such as unselfishness, courageousness, deference to the opinions of others in spite of an
independent and reflecting mind; and he
seemed to try to cultivate these qualities
conscientiously.
"He was very forward to oblige, and it
seems to me I can almost hear now, his glad'may I, may I,' so frequently heard, when
any little service was called for. During
our journey from Paris to Mentone, this was
particularly observable. As children generally are, he was in great glee about' the
journey we were going to make, and talked
much of all he would do and undertake;
and if any difficulty arose, seemed to think
he could remove it at once, by all he would




2 0    THE SERGEANT'S iEAORIAL.
take upon himiself. In addition to a knapsack which he had begged to consider as his
own property, lie would have loaded himself
with the bags and cushions of the whole
party.
"He was a conscientious boy.  There
was no disregard of obligation, or carelessness about duty in him, that I ever perceived. He did his duty without troubling
others to look after him to see that he did
it. He applied himself diligently to the
study of the French language, and boldly
essayed the conversational department, in
which he made rapid progress. I remember.
his asking me once, what day of the month
it was, in a phrase which was quite new to
me; and I can see his bright face with a
suppressed smile upon it, peering over the
balustrade, as he was going up stairs, as he
saiid-' qiuet quantie'ne est-ce?'
"There is another incident that we recall,
which showed his courageous resolution.
Mr. Pilatte had arrived late from a journey,
and being hungry, we soon spread a supper



TIWE S'ERGEIANT'S'L~EJfORIAL.    21
table for him; but there was iio water, and
our fountain, the nearest place where we
could obtain fresh water, was at a good and
lonely distance from the house. I suppose
the servant must have gone to town for the
night, as she did sometimes, for I remember
that the cry was raised —' who will go and
fetch some water?' A silence ensued, while
each one recollected that there was no water
in the house, and that to have any, some one
must go a good way in the dark. Johnny
was the first one to break the pause.'I'll
go,' said he, and seizing the pitcher, he soon
brought it back full, and he himself full of
pleasure with the little sacrifice it had cost
him to slake the thirst of our weary traveler.
" I do not recollect but one instance of
his having required reproof at our hands.
It was for having beaten the dog. That
love of power inherent in man, and almost
always manifested at an early age, thus
showed itself in him toward poor doggy,
who was thrashed for nothing at all; but we
never had occasion to repeat the reproof."




22     T}IE SEY GE2AXT'S'EKORPIAL.
Either " ddggy" deserved the thrashing,
or this act of injustice was expiated in after
years by the fond and ready patronage of
the whole species. Even in his tent-photograph the little pet dog appears nestling in
his blanket and sharing his rations.
With this affection for animals I recall
the general artlessness of his tastes. The
boy had seen the treasures of London and
Paris, had witnessed the pomp of the burial
of the Dulke of Wellington and of the proclamation of Louis Napoleon as Emperor;
had heard of the marvels of Rome, Naples,
and Constantinople;-but when on leaving
him in Paris, I asked what present I should
bring him from the East, he gave me this
little slip of paper that now lies before me
— folded, sealed, and inscribed, "To be
opened when you come in sight of Mt.
Sinai."
Paris, Dec. 6th, 1852.
DEAR FATHER:-I suppose that you are
now in sight of Mt. Sinai, and you know




TtIEE SER JGWENT'S MEMORIAL.    23
that you promised me you would get me
some sand for an hour-glass when you were
in the desert; but I would rather have it
from Mt. Sinai, if you can get it there; but
don't get more than a bushel. I told you
that I would give you a letter of introduction [to Mt. Sinai], and is not this one?
Your son,            JOHNNY.
I fulfilled the commission. He had the
wished-for hour-glass. It lies beside me
now-broken in the middle, its sands prematurely run out.




IV.
THE boy loved flowers; not with a mere
childish wonder and delight in their
growth and their blooming, but with an intelligent, care-taking interest in their structure and their properties, their names, beauties and varieties. Symptoms of ill-health,
that threatened to become chronic, — the
residuumr of scarlet fever and measles-demanded a thorough change of regimen; and
an agricultural school in Cornwall, Conn.,
afforded the desired opportunity for the cultivation of rural tastes, with a regular but
moderated intellectual training.
Boating and swimming in summer, coasting and skating in winter, log-splitting, spading, plowing, all -that pertains to garden and
(24)




THE SERGEANT'S MEAORIAL.    25
farm work and to the athletic sports of the
country, tended to give robustness to his
constitution, and finally conquered the infirmity that threatened to be the bane of
his life.. At thirteen he has his garden
patch of melons, corn, tomatoes, etc., competing for the school premium with all the
zest of a member of the American Institute.
But in the cultivation of flowers he exhibits
a taste that grows into affection.
"Did you get the copy of the Homestead
that I sent you, with my composition about
flowers? Please keep it for me, as it is the
first thing I ever wrote that was printed.
Have you read a book called'Hiawatha,'
by Longfellow?" The printed composition,
were it at hand, might have an interest now
that did not attach to it at the time; but
the taste that it indicated matured with
years, diffused its delicate fragrance throughout the house, gave zest to many a ramble
through the woods, and even relieved the
roughness of camp-life by levying upon
nature for such leafy and floral contribu3




26     THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
tions as could be found, to ornament the
tent. Not a book or a paper in his tiny
knapsack library but contains some remnant
of gathered flowers. HTe had learned to
name and to classify all trees of the wood
and flowers of the field, all grains and
grasses and growths, long before most city
lads can distinguish the contents of a grassplot border.
As he himself delighted to watch some
choice flower, to analyze its parts, and to
preserve its outline and impression when its
substance had faded,'so it is a joy to go
back in thought and watch the unfolding of
traits that grew to be fragrant and precious
virtues, and the first outlines of which are
preserved in these boyish letters; to note
his careful precision about matters of fact —
as when his brother is written to, post haste,
to examine " whether the New Haven cars
have tongues on them, when drawn by
horses," and is charged " to be sure that he
understands it, as it is a case of great importance;" to note his punctuality in writ



THE SER GE'AiT'S IEMORIAL.    2 7
ing home, and his care in sending particular
messages to every member of the family; to
note his appreciation of brave and manly
qualities, as when he pours out his boyish
enthusiasm for Dr. Kane, after reading both
his expeditions, and laments that he could
not have seen him before his death; to note
the kindling of noble impulses for liberty,
as when he stands up alone in the school for
Fremont as the freemen's candidate, and denounces the outrage upon Senator Sumner,
in an " exhibition" speech; to note his care
of his clothing, and his economy in his little
possessions, as when he puts his new knife
away, because he has not yet lost or used up
the one sent him in the first part of the
term; to note -his detestation of vice and
crime, as when he recounts the profaneness
and the deceptions of schoolmates, or writes
an indignant comment upon "'the awful
wickedness of New York," as reported in
the newspapers; to note his considerateness
with regard to his parents' wishes, in every
wish or plan of his own, and his loving defer



28     THIE SER EANT'S MEMORIAL.
ence of address; to note his grateful appreciation of his school-boy privileges: "I keep
up my French, and will try and get my Latin
as well as I can. The more I study it, the
more I like it; but still I do not see what
good it will do me..... I am glad you
think I am improving in my studies, because
I try all I can to learn, while I have so good
an opportunity;"-to note, especially, the
flower of love that so beautifully unfolds
itself in this greeting to the newly-born:
"As to home, although I am  away from
home, I have not forgotten what-it is to have
one. I am very glad to hear that I have
got a little baby brother, and he shall never
repent that I am his brother, nor say that I
ever treated him unkindly, if I can help it;
and there is nothing I should like better
than to be able to do something for him
sometime."




V.
gE~AUTIFUL was the love that bound
together the eldest and the youngest of
the household, for the six years from that
day of greeting to the day of parting. The
school-boy found no more delightful pastime
in vacation than to entertain for hours " the
baby brother "-teaching him  all childish
games and sports, and, as his mind opened,
all pleasant things about flowers, birds and
animals, such as children love to hear. In
the summer recess, it was a day's delight for
John to take Willie on a ramble through
the woods for wild-flowers, or hunting squirrels, or to build chip boats for the perilous
navigation of the brook.  No higcher society
seemed so kindred to his gentle, loving nha~3*~~ ~     (29)




30    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
ture as this little confiding brother, who
would go with him anywhere, everywhere,
and live in his own light.
Fragments of toys that had baffled parental patience and ingenuity, would be
gravely laid aside till Johnny should come
home, with the most implicit confidence that
his skill would restore them. And so it
did. Nothing in the line of such inventions
ever surpassed his powers of contrivance,
and not the most hopeless breakage could
discourage his patience. In the soul-union
of these two, Faith walked unquestioning
and satisfied by the side of Love.
When the school-boy had entered college,
and began to know the fellowships of maturer life and the aspirations of manly pride,
there was " still nothing he liked better than
to be able to do something for the babybrother at home;"-to send him a flower, to
paint him a picture, to make some new contrivance for his amusement when away;and at home to take him to museums, parks
and fountains. And when the college youth




THEE RSEE  IAi TSTTS,MEMZORIAL.  31
became a soldier, he would sit down after
guard or picket duty, and print in large letters for childish eyes, some little adventure
with explanatory sketches.
What love could be sweeter, purer than
this of a young man, a college student, an
army officer, for a little child? When the
child looked upon his elder brother in the
last sleep, with a strange awe of the mystery
of death, his young heart told how faithfully
Johnny had fulfilled the promise of the first
greeting. When a few days after, John's
captain, on furlough, called at the door, his
first exclamation was, " Ah! this is Johnny's
little brother that he always talked of;
every body in camp knows Willie."




VI.
A  HEART so gentle and so loving, so pure
and simple in its tastes, so noble in its aspirations, needed the Hig-hest and the Best to
satisfy its longings; —needed that fellowship
with the pure, the good, the true, which is
found only in God manifest in the flesh.
The mc6re pure and lovely the character that
engages our affections, the less can those
affections satisfy the soul they would encircle as its home.  The more one rises
above the common level of character, the
more does he need "'to know Hti that is
true, and to be in Him that is true, even in
his Son Jesus Christ."  Were one sinless,
but mortal, he would yet have need cof
Christ; —  Christ's  spiritual illumination,
(32)




T1E iE SERL GEAN 7T'S ME3IORIAI.    33
Christ's gentle sympathy, Christ's guiding
wisdom, Christ's sustaining love.  Much
more is Christ's redeeming, renewing, sanctifying grace a necessity for those who are
sinful as well as mortal.
A judgment more delicate and penetrating'
than mine, an eye more constant and watchful than mine, a love more sympathetic than
mine with childish experiences, and more
sensitive than mine to manifestations of
Christ, had ventured to pronounce this child
a child of God in his ninth year, when an
angel-brother opened the gates of heaven to
his wondering eyes. Theories of a metaphysical conversion held my eyes doubting! But
the day of manifestation came.
" Dear Mother," he writes, " I shall be so
glad to get home once more; -at least five
years of my fourteen have been spent away
from home! But it must be just as you and
father think; you know best. Everybody
here is very kind to me, yet I am real homesick; I mean it; I never was so before; I
am so lonely; nobody to talk to that I can




34     THE SER GE.ANT'S MEMORIAL.
tell everything I want to; it is hard for me
to study; hard to seem cheerful. "
With a view to a more systematic preparation for college, he had been transferred
from his farm-school to a grammar-school at
Cambridgeport, Mass., and he missed of
course. the out-door life. and the hearty
recreations of his loved " ream Hill." But
his mind was also thrown back upon itself;
and he found and felt that " aching void"
which is often the first consciousness of
higher spiritual needs.
" I know, dear father " he writes at fifteen,
"that the culture of the heart is of very,
great importance, and I often think that ][
should become a Christian without any more
delay. I try to do what -is right, and I pray
to God to help me, to give me a new heart,
and to teach me how to love and serve Him.
I think of these things more sometimes than
at others.
"II was invited to attend the young men's
prayer meeting a few weeks ago. I have
been twice, and I like to go very much.




THE SR GEANT',S MEfIfORIAL.    35
I hope it will do me good. I think jI know
what your wishes are on this subject,
and I will try to follow them as well as I
can. I showed your letter to uncle E,
and he talked to me about it very kindly."
He is approaching the moment of transition
into the true life of the soul; —the seeds of
holy faith and love long germinating in his
heart are about to flower.
His letters now are filled with reports of
Bible-class lessons, of sermons and religious
themes that had awakened his attention,
and that indicate the working of his mind.
But religious thought and prayers, and "' trying to do right," are not enough to bring
the sense of peace with God. To a soul
made conscious of its sins andc its needs,
peace and joy can come but through one
medium; and in that blessed spring-time
they so came to him.
"My dear father and mother, rejoice with
me, for I hope and trust that last night I
gave my heart to Jesus. Oh, how munch better I feel! Uncle E. told me that no one




36     THE SPERGEANT'S MEMORIfAL.
could do it for me; so, before I went to bed,
I trust I gave my heart to Jesus.
"I must go to Boston, to-morrow, to give
my testimony in this cause. Oh, pray for me
that I may keep on."
The date of this letter (March, 1858) refers
it to a season of unusual religious sympathy
in Boston, of which Park Street Church was
for a time the centre; and the allusion to
" bearing testimony in Boston " is explained,
a few days later, in a more particular account of his decision to serve Christ.
"I do wonder that I have not done this
before, because it was so easy when I once
determined to do it. In the vestry of Park
Street Church I first promised to seek the
Lord; promised a stranger. I do not wonder that I have not done this before, because
my heart was so wicked."  Thus the contrariety and the conflict of experiences described by Paul in the seventh chapter of
his epistle to the Romans, the good and the
evil, the ready-willing and the not-doing,
reproduce themselves in this child-heart,




THE SR GtEANT'S iVIEWMO2IUAL.  37
until the favoring moment of decision comes,
and Christ, received in his all-sufficient
strength and grace, animates the soul both
to will and to do. To come to Christ is so
easy, when the heart is determined upon it,
that the wonder always is that it was not
done before; yet the heart is so full of evil
that the wonder still remains that it was
ever done at all..
Upon how small an incident the salvation
of a soul may turn!  Reading in a newspa:per some report of the religious meetings hi~,
Park street, the school-boy took his weekly'
half holiday for a walk into town, to observe
one for himself. A stranger remarking, his
serious interest, gave the prompting word,
and the great decision of life was there resolved upon. Happily, he had the guidance
of a sympathizing friend and a judicious
counselor, in the uncle whose house was his
home. The new life developed itself less in
the way of outward demonstration, whether
of word or action, than through the quiet
manifestation of Christianprinciple and love.
4




38     THE SERGEANiT'S MEMORL1L.
"John's state of mind," writes his uncle,
a month later, " has interested me much, as
far as I have been able to draw it out. He
does not express himself very fully, nor manifest much emotion. I see nothing inconsistent with the hope he indulges, while his
uniform quiet, steady habits do not afford
much opportunity for the exhibition of
marked religious experience. He inquires
with new interest about religious truth, expresses confidence in his hope, and penitence
for sin, and looks upon prayer meetings very
differently from formerly. IHe is thrown
very little into company, and probably does
not feel drawn into personal effort to reach
others. He has once or twice spoken in the
young men's meeting, of his purpose and
hope."
At the same time, John's own letters give
such glimpses of his new  experience as
make me feel now, as I felt at the time, how
thorough and genuine, and also how characteristic it was.
"I cannot talk,or write about religious




THE SER GEANTT'S MEMORlI'A.   3 9
feelings at all times, father; did you not
find it so? It is hard for me to express my
thoughts on paper.7"
Oh! how kind God has been to let me
live on so long, while I sinned against him.
He is merciful and slow to anger."
"I know, father, that you would like, of
all things, to have me become one of God's
ministers, and give all my powers for his
service. But I would rather talk than write
about that; and I must think more before I
decide,-if it is for me to decide."
" It is a very pleasant thought to me that
I have so many friends in heaven, and that
if I live in the fear of the Lord I shall soon
meet them there."
" One verse gave, me a stronger determination to be very watchful over my actions
and thoughts. I am surrounded by temptations to do wrong in many little things; but
I pray much for God's Holy Spirit to deliver
me from them. Pray for me, as I know you
do."
Some months after, moved solely by his




40     THE SERGEANlT'S XLEMOlRL4L.
own desire, he publicly confessed Christ,
by uniting with the Broadway Tabernacle
Church, —in whose fellowship he continued
until death, and from whose sanctuary he
was borne to the grave.  One who was a
deacon of that church in 1858, and who had
much opportunity to know John, volunteers
this reminiscence. "I well remember the
incidents attending his conversion. I remember his appearance before the Committee of the Church;-llow well satisfied I
was that he was sincere, that he had weighed
the import of the act, that he knew what he
was doing', though in the modesty and sincerity of his heart he said but little. I met
him  several times afterwards, and never
without, thinking,'here is a young man
wholly devoid of the frivolities of youth, and
who is living'for a 229CgPose.   13ut little did
I think he would so soon accomplish his
destined work on earth.  I have often
thoughit, if I should live to see it, what station of usefulness he might fill. It never
occurred to me that his sun would set in the




THE SERGEANT'S M~EMORIAL.    41
early morning. How beautiful to see the
young and ardent heart consecrated to
Christ! And how sublime to see the same
heart, with all its high aspirations in this
life, consecrated to country;-after having
counted the cost, yet saying, Here am I.
And how heart-rending. to think such costly
sacrifices must be made to have a country!
" Every fiber of my heart beats in unison
with the cause that the dear one gave his
precious life to sustain. I honor his patriotism, his manly, his Christian decision.
His memory will be ever dear to me. And
should I live to see the day when I can say,'My country, one and undivided,' I shall
think of those who with brave and manly
hearts, though perchance with tender and
delicate frames, dared to offer up their lives
to make it so."
V5




'IO
\Q-f  I o[o'CC/  a
VII.
I COULD even be jealous of the homes
that so long divided him from mine, and
of the friends who now claim his memory as
a family treasure, were it not that he himself
always reserved that sacred word Home for
one household, and loved that with an affection not only undivided, but matured and
strengthened by the unavoidable separations
of years. Buet while he never could be
weaned from  his proper home, he carried
into the several families-at Manchester, at
AMentone, at Camlbridge, at New Haven —in
which he lived as a son, the same gentle,
cheerful, obliging disposition, the same careful and considerate habits, the same pure
(42)




THE SERGETAT'S MEMORIAL.    43
and manly ways, the same helpful ingenuity,
the same enthusiasm for the noble and the
good, that made him even as a child the
abiding comfort and joy of the house.
His ready fingers would construct an.ZEolian harp or anll aquarium  with equal
ease; would dissect a sewing-machine at
first sight, then put it together and claim
the privilege of using it for himself; would
acquire the complicated arts of prestigiation, and practice these for the bewilderment of little children, the amusement of the
family circle, or the entertainment of a bedridden invalid; would prepare all manner
of curious, ingenious, and beautiful things,
for gifts and ornaments; mottoes and devices in skillful penmanship; sketches in
crayon, ink, or color; picture frames in cones,
leather, or passe-partout;-ah, this copy of
Palmer's Faith that hie framed, it leads me
now with a deeper want and a more tender
meaning to the Cross!
"We recall with pleasure," writes his
Cambridge guardian,'our intimate ac



44     THE SERGEANT'S H[EMOIAL.
quaintance with him, and the intercourse we
had with him while he was a member of
our own household; his correct life, his
kindness to the children, his identification
with our interests, his ingenuity and skill,
and especially his hopeful experience of a
change of heart."
That "kindness to children" prompts him
on receiving a money present for his fifteenth
birth-day, to consult whether he shall buy a
squirrel, a canary, or some gold-fishes, for
the pleasure of his little cousins, while he
will gratify his own fastes by subscribing
for the best agricultural journal.
Indeed he himself then edited, printed,
and published a tiny journal of his own!
The printing-press and type-case were of his
own construction; aud I find among his
later papers various diagrams for an improved power-press, apparently suggested
by his youthful experience in typography.
One who has made boy-life a special
study, and whose pen has enriched our juvenile literature with the model sketches of




TIIE SEJ2GEAINT'S MEMORIA iL.    45
"Robert Dawson" and " Reuben Kent,"
sends this reminiscence:
"I have a wee paper called the'Weekly
Wonder,' bearing the date, Feb. 22d, 1858,
in which it says'the editor intends to have
a good time this week in Portsmouth.' He
came and called upon me, and left me this,
the fruit of a home printing-press experience,
which I kept-expecting one day to show it
to the grown-up editor, or minister, or lawyer. And this youthful editor was Johnyour dead yet living John! I took it out
from my desk when I saw his death, and
wondered if the tall and beautiful boy who
gave me this were he! Ah, my dear friend,
who can repair the terrible breach made in
your family?  God can make you willing to
have it so; as he made you willing to put
him on the altar of sacrifice-but oh, the
desolating sense of loss! I know they say,'not lost, but gone before;' yet it is loss
ever while we live  a loss which the Father
of our spirits and the God of grace and consolation makes up in spiritual gains and




46     THE SER GEAN2T'S MEJIORIA.
promise, perhaps; but, after all, with the
sense of loss still aching, yearning. I feel
with you and for you.
"The account of John's last hours which
you sent to your friends was very affecting.
Precious is the evidence that' all was right'
with him for the last great struggle.
" What a re-affirmation are we having of
God's great law of vicarious sacrifice! Will
-it not issue in such a peace as the world cannot give, neither take away?  I believe it
will, and a glorious future is before the
country."*
Another lady friend, of rare discernment
and cultivation, who saw him in these blossoming days, gives this picture of his gentle
and winning conversation:
" When John was at school at Cambridgeport, his aunt brought him over to see us
one afternoon, and on another day he found
his way by himself. I thought and said
then that I had never seen a lad who impressed me as he did; in every way so
* Mrs. Holen C. Knight.




THE SERGE~ANT'S MEMiORIAL.    47
attractive and winning; at an age generally
considered an awkward one with boys, there
was a grace and a modest dignity in his
bearing, and an ease and frankness in his
conversation, that surprised and delighted
me. No one could see him without wishing
the next time might come soon. We had, I
remember, quite a long talk, partly playful
and partly serious.-He went with me to a
garden seat, where we had this pleasant
conversation under the trees. If he had
been like others of his age, it would not
haye so dwelt in my memory, but I have
never forgotten it or him; and if MIrs. G.
seemed to me an aunt to be envied because
she could have him with her, and if in that
brief interview I could recognize something
noble and unusual in his nature-a purity,
refinement and rare gentleness-how inexpressibly dear he must have been to you
who thoroughly knew him, and how inestilaable your loss in his early removal. Still
his father must feel that the consolation is
in proportion to the immensity of his loss.




48     TE1 SER (EA!NT'S EMIOilIL.
To have owned him, called him his,-to have
trained him to such admirable excellence, to
have given him first to his country, and then
in his unstained, unsullied youth to his God
and to heaven, where the angels were waiting and wanting him-oh, what happiness in
it all, in the midst of deepest grief; a strange
joy and fervent gratitude to God for the
gift of twenty years, for the blessing of his
life and of his death!"




VIII.
WVAS it predestined that the boy should
be a soldier? A country life still fascinated him, and the pursuits of agriculture,
to be ennobled by science, seemed for a time
to fill his aspirations. In this vein he has
" a little plan to propose" for a summer recess. "I soon will have a vacation of seven
weeks, right in the midst of haying time.
WVhy could I not work a part of the timea month, perhaps-on some farm near where
you will be, and earn something?  It will
make me strong, and I would feel more like
study during the winter. I have determinled to ask you about it, and if you and
father think well of it, why, I am ready to
try it."  So he hired himself out for the
5                (49)




50     THE SERGEiANT'~S MEMORIAL.
haying season, and the farmer reported that
he well earned his board and wages.
He tried in every way to endure hardness; and, notwithstanding a rapid growth
in stature, he succeeded by gymnastic exercises and robust occupations, in gaining a
well-proportioned  muscular development.
But this was best accomplished by means of
the military drill to which he was subjected
for two years, at Dr. Russell's Collegiate
and Commercial Institute, in New Haven.
His hankering after an agricultural rather
than a professional life, and my own doubt
of his ability to endure the confinement of
professional studies and labor, had led to his
transfer from a course preparatory for college to a mixed classical and scientific comrse,
with a view to a general education.
"I use the military drill," said Dr. R.,
"as an auxiliary. It promotes discipline;
it forms habits of punctuality, order, and
obedience; it gives physical culture; it furnishes a vent for boyish vivacity; and, beside, it gives young men such a knowledge




THE SERGEANT'S XEMORIAL.    51
of tactics, that they will be able to handle a
musket to good purpose, in any emergency."
In those days this last consideration was of
least account. Yet, then and thus it was
that he acquired the knowledge of arms
which, at the outbreak of the war, gave him
the assurance that he could serve his country to advantage, and which, in a raw regiment of volunteers, made him, as his colonel
testified, "worth more to his company, than
any man in it."
Our education of children-whatever plan
may be involved in it-is determined at
each step by the expediency of the hour.
But underlying all our measures, controlling
all our plans even in their fluctuations, is
the far-seeing, far-reaching plan of the Infinite Father, shaping his instrument for his
own end.
But, muscular development and military
drill, were not pursued to the neglect of
mental and moral culture. "Acting' and
thinking," is his chosen motto, for success in
life, "throwing cll one's powers upon the




52     THE SERGEANVT'S MEMORIOJLL.
one thing to be done."  And here is the daydream  of that halcyon time.  "For ten
years I must work; then a traveler's life
until I know foreign lands. Returning, I
will build my house; fill its libraries, galleries, etc., with the results of my travels;
join scientific societies; study, read, write,
and publish till the end! But for this I
must work now; so, here goes for Whately's
Reasoning, and Chambers' Zo6logy."
-  But what a treasure of substantial realities comes to light in this book of schoolboy compositions, dating at sixteen.  Not
that they exhibit maturity of thought, or
extent of reading, —for the fragmentary
character of his education had not favored
either rapid or symmetrical development,but they show a regard for moral culture,
which made him beloved and even respected
beyond his years.  "What constitutes a
gentleman?" he asks; and his answer enunmerates honesty, truthfulness, kindness, or
true politeness, "that will not suffer us to
insult or injure, in any way, by word or




TIE SERGEANTT'S MEMORIAL.     53
action, those whom fortune has not favored
as much as ourselves;" neatness, punctuality, for, " if a person is behindhand in meeting his engagements, it is a sign of bad
training, and ill-manners;" and then he
adds: "above everything else, every one
should have the love of God in his heart;
and if he strives to serve Him, in all things,
he will be a gentleman indeed."
Concerning " reputation," he writes: " we
are all making our reputations now; every
word and action will tell in future. Strive,
then, to gain a good reputation; you need
not be a great orator, commander, or writer,
to gain it, but be honest, be diligent, generous and kind.  Make yourself respected
and loved by your teachers and schoolmates;
for your reputation at school will follow you
all your life."
A subject had been assigned for composition, under the title of " the advantages and
disadvantages of telling the truth."  He
opens his essay with the remark: "I think
that the wording of this subject is rather
5*




54     THE SER GEANT'S  MEMORIAL.
unfortunate, for we should have it decided
once for all, that it is always best to tell
the truth, and never best to tell a lie.....
If a. man is justified in lying to save his life,
a child is justified in lying to save himself
from a whipping,-and we should have fine
society if children were thus brought up!...
The Bible should be our guide in this matter; and how can any one think it disadvantageous to tell the truth concerning anything, to save life or reputation, to please or
displease, to make money or friends, or to
accomplish any purpose, when we read in
that true book,' all liars shall have their
part in the lake that. burns with fire.' 
Writing of'; manliness in school-life," he
makes it essential to this, that there should
be habits of industry, of politeness, of truth,
of honor —" an honest and upright course,
and obedience to rules;" —and this he urges,
because "the habits formed in school, will
always follow us," and because "all the
qualities of manliness are right and proper
in the sight of God."




TIE SERGEANT'S NiEJIORIAL.    55
In an essay on " learning to take care of
ourselves," he sums up all by saying, " form
the habit of thinking clearly and rapidly,
of knowing when you are right, and then
going ahead."
And, finally, in answering the question,
"for whom and for what am I working," he,
says: "Am  I working for myself alone?
Ought I to be working for self, alone? No:
to work for self, thinking of no others, is
simply selfishness. If then, I work not for
myself alone, whom do I work for? Is
there not One, above all others, whose I
am, and for whom I am to work?  Yes;
and in His holy Word I find this command:' Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye
do, do all to the glory of God.' Is not this
a glorious thought, that I am working, not
for myself, nor friends, only; but for that
great Being who made me, and who gives
me all I have?  In all that I do,-study
work, or play,-I am improving or abusing
the talents He has given me; and in proportion as I improve them, so shall my re



56     THE SERGEANTT'S 3EMORIAL.
ward be. Thus it seems that I amn working
for my Heavenly Father, and that Hie is the
Being for whom anc for whose glory all
should work."




IX.
DID ever a boy regard Latin as other than
a senseless imposition upon his time and
talents?  Did ever a boy grow up to the
stature of a college examination without
questioning the wisdom of his seniors at
divers steps of the preparatory course?
This boy at least was no exception. And
this was the point and' the only point, at
which his will came into opposition with
parental wishes, but always to yield with a
manly grace.
At fourteen, he says, " I am getting along
very well in all my studies except Latin,
and that I do not make much progress in,
because I do not understand it nor like it
at all. I think I might just as well spend
(5'7)




58     THE SEW GEANiT'S MEiORPIAL.
the time on something which will do me
more good when I get older as on that
which does not seem to pay for the time I
spend on it."
At fifteen he has gravely argued the question of College with his uncle,-and has
settled it in the negative. "Uncle E. just
asked me what I was studying for. I said
I did not know.
"'Are you going to college?'
""'No, sir. I guess and hope not.'
"'Why, what do you dread? -hard
study?'
"'I don't dread anything; but I do not
wish to go.'"
Still, his whim, or prejudice, or fancy, or
whatever is the cause of this temporary
aversion to a college course, never takes thd
form of obstinacy; and so a word of counsel from home brings the response, "I was
glad to get your kind letter. I think that
within a year or two I shall be able to decide better about my employment than I can
now, so I will not ask any more questions,




THE SER GEAN.T'S FMEfORAL.   59
if I can help it;"-and this also; "I am
trying to learn all I call at school, and at all
other places; for I shall never again have
so good an opportunity."
His reported standing in every school,
and the volunteer testimony of teachers,
show that it was never study, as such, that
was irksome, but only the thought of a long
prescribed course whose practical bearing
upon the pleasure or the usefulness of his
future, he was not yet in a position to comprehend. The conflict between a desire for
the best results of education and a distaste
for the preliminary routine, breaks forth
now and then, in such strains as this: "On
Thursday evening I went to hear; the
best lecture I ever heard. How he must
feel to hold such an audience in close attention for over two hours. I would sooner
have his place than that of the Prince of
Wales; for what comparison is there between a crowd drawn by a man's rank and
name, and one drawn and moved by a man's
eloquence?




60     THE SERGWANXT'S EMEORIAL.
"Of course you will say, why don9t you
go to college, then? —which  is just my
trouble, for I have no inclination for college
but quite the reverse."
I had compromised upon this; —that if he
would master Latin, the first step toward a
liberal education in any department, the
question of entering college should be reserved for his own maturer judgment; and
having graduated creditably at Dr. Russell's
Institute-venting his patriotism  withal in
a prize declamation upon the battle of Bunker
Hill-lhe entered the scientific school of
Yale College in the fall of 1860, intending
to pursue the regular course in that department, A little experience in the attempt
to master physical science without a broad
intellectual culture, satisfied him of his mistake, and awoke in him the very decision
that the advice of others had failed to secture.
Writing of engineering, he says, "I see
plainly that this is not the life for me. I
should not be happy in it; the thing is not




THE SERGEANT'S JEMIIORIAL.    61
in me. I do not like a business, money-making life.  Mother, I will tell you plainly
that I would like best to be a minister, but
I dcare not be, I cannot be."
One who has known what it was to review
a youthful profession of piety by a later
standard of intellectual measurement, and
to subject affections and emotions to the
analytic processes of the judgment, will sympathize with this dear boy in the honest and
testing struggle he now endured between a
heart that yet believed with trembling and
a reason that questioned his dearest faith
and hope. "When I joined the church," he
continues, "I firmly believed as I professed.
But I was ignorant of much,-and one should
never go on blindly thinking he has the Saviour when he has not.7"
It was but a passing cloud-enough of
darknless to make the Saviour's presence
riore desired, and therefore the more felt
and prized when the soul, emerging from the
vacancy and terror of unbelief, realized that
He yet was there. And as this cloud of
6




62     TIlE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
doubt and despondency rolled away from
the inner spirit, there came a clearer light
upon the outer course. Why is it that his
new light makes my eyes so misty that I
can hardly transcribe the words in which he
announced it?
"Nov. 5, 1860. Dear Father, I sent a
long letter to mother to-day, which were
better unsent. I wrote it in desperation, for
I feel that I am mistcacen;-you and my
friends are right. The course I am now in
is not the course I need.
"Uncle D., by chance, called here this
morning, and we fell into a long talk, in
which he gave me much good advice, and
has fairly talked me into college, so that
freely I own up wrong, and desire to make
up for all lost time..... I have been afool, and it will serve me right, if you say,
No; keep on as you are.'.... Being very
sorry for the trouble I am giving you by my
former folly, I am, I trust, a wiser and certainly a repentant son."
Though hiding this great consolation in




THE SERGEANT',S MEJ~ORIAL.    G3
my own heart, it was out of its blessed fullness that I preached, on the following Shbbath, from the words, "I have no greater
joy than to hear thact my children waclk i
truth." I never again commended the ministry to his choice; but, on leaving Phillips'
Academy for college, he told me playfully,
that he liked his Andover quarters so well
he had re-engaged them for three years succeeding his graduation at Yale.
It was not needed that the test of death
should be added to this test of doubt, to reassure him that he had the Saviour. But
since it was not given to any of his friends
to  see him  die in the far-off camp, it
is grateful to remember the foreshadowing
of the triumph there that was given here,
when in a sharp and critical disease he lay
for days upon the very edge of the grave.
As he grew better, he expressed his great
anxiety for personal friends whom he thought
to be unprepared for death and eternity;
adding: "I have been thinking a great deal
about —, since I have been sick; I think




64     THE SER GEAVNT'S MiIEXOPIAL.
that if it had pleased God to take a-way my
life, I should have been ready. I have not
felt at all afraid to die, because I believe
that Christ has forgiven all my sins."




WITI  an energy and persistence that
proved the thoroughness of his purpose, he began at once under a private tutor
at New Haven, to pursue the Andover seniors, by forced marches, through the Anabasis; and having outmeasured their parasangs, he entered Phillips Academy, in December, 1860. Of course he entered at a
disadvantage, fiom the irregularity of his
classical training, and at first he felt this
keenly.  " I will do my best in my new position; but I shall have hard times, and if I
fail, all will be lost."  As the class were
reviewing text-books that he had not read,
his daily lessons were often of double length.
"Nothing hurts me more than to flunk or
6*                (65)




66       THIE SERG E'ANT'S MEORTIAL.
fizzle, and again, nothing does me more
good, for on the next lesson, I always study
till I know it, even though I see the next
day, before I go to bed. Dr. Taylor is very
considerate, and will excuse me on all that
I have not before read; but I hate to ask
him, or to be excused at all. I never was in
a better school. And I will not give up, if I
study every night till morning.
"Last night, at seven, I commenced to
study on the lesson for New Year's day;
with the exception of fifteen minutes, I studied ihard until a quarter of one (1861). I
never saw the old year out so before; but I
saw every word of that Greek out, and then
went to bed.
"I have not been able to retire before
eleven, any night this week; twice I have
been up till nearly one, and twice I got up
at half after four. I intend to take a good
stand as a scholar, unless I make myself sick
in the attempt.
" Father writes to me to be sure and take
eight hours sleep, every day, and plenty of




2THE SERGEA1VT'S NEYORIAL.    67
exercise. This is what we call,'morally
impossible,' in view of two pages daily of
Greek, or one hundred and forty lines of
Virgil, to be recited to Dr. Taylor."
It was a natural sequence of all this, that
his old enemy, the headache, which was put
to the rout at the agricultural school, should
return with violence; and great was the
relief when he could relax these efforts, and
report, " there is now no doubt of my ability
to hold my place in the senior class."
With this force of will and this zeal in
study, was united strength of moral purpose in regard to the ordinary temptations
of student-life. In reply to my request for
some positive assurance that he would avoid
that special bane of the student,-scenes of
conviviality, in which the cigar and the
wine-cup tempt to idleness, wastefulness, and
excess,-he writes:
"I can say, honestly, that I NEVER' took
a drink' of any intoxicating or other liquor.
And I willingly promise that I never will;
for I detest it from the bottom of my heart.




68     TIHE SERGEANAIT'S EiORIAL.
"As to tobacco, I have used it, as you
know. I can say nothing in its defence,
except as a pleasure; and those who have
never smoked cannot appreciate that.  It
seems but a little thing for you to ask me to
give it up; and it is, compared with what I
ask.of you; but it is terribly hard.
"I will promise not to use it, in any form,
while at Andover, and if ever again, I will
let you see me the first time. I trust I shall
be able to keep this promise. The academy
pledge I should probably have broken; but
I will be true to you."




XI.
MARCH  4, 1861.  "To-day Lincoln begins his important career. I hope he
will do his best to punish some of the traitors nlow in office." 
April 22. "There is great excitement
here [Andover] about the times. A company is now forming in town, and the military spirit runs high. Dr. Taylor does not
consider it our duty to enlist at present, and
he advises us to do nothing rashly. But he
approves the forming of a company in
school, of such as are capable of bearing
arms, for practice and the learning of military tactics. In virtue of my graduation at
Russell's,  I shall probably have an office,
perhaps a high one, and will you do me the
(69)




'70    THE SERGEANZT'S MEMORIAL.
favor to send by mail an edition of Scott's
Manual for infantry?  I feel quite excited,
and want to enlist."
To this I replied that the exigency did not
yet require that students should abandon
their whole life-plan for tile present defence
of the country; that, from the nature of the
conflict and of the territory upon which it
must be waged, the desperation of the rebel
leaders, and the persistent malignity of the
slave-power, the war must last for at least
three years; that just now the rush of volunteers was greater than the President had
called for; but that the war would be no
holiday affair, and the time might come
when I must bid him go, and when he must
be ready to take every risk; adding, "I
hope you will become perfect in drill, so
that if called to go, you may be fully prepared."
He was elected captain of the "Ellsworth"
or Phillips Cadets-a company of some seventy academy boys, whose daily drills gave
a new life to Andover Hill during the sum



THE SERGEANvT'S MEMORIAL.    71
mer of 1861.  The Andover Advertiser
makes frequent mention of " Capt. Thompson's" proficiency. Under this responsibility,
he writes
" I thank you for the Manuals. I am studying them continually, and practicing with
my company. We have two drills a week
from Captain Oliver, U. S. A., and ours is
the best drilled company in town. I am
trying to go farther than mere head-work,
by a private drill daily with a heavy musket
I. have borrowed. It is fine exercise, and
good for my own military training, as I am
careful to learn every motion rightly and
on time. I am strong for war; it seems to
me that the South needs a lesson which cannot be taught by'compromise' or'starvation.'
"Do you want me to go, or do you only
not object if it be necessary? I stand ready
to go at once, if I can find a suitable place.
Should a dozen of our boys volunteer, I
would be one; but it would be hard to enlist in a strange company that one knows




72     THE SERGEANkT'S iEIORIAL.
nothing about. I think, when there is another call, and colleges and schools respond,
Phillips boys will not be behind.
" We all find it very hard to study, and
Dr. Taylor doesn't get cross."
His own judicious management of the
company did much to secure the favorable
consideration of the Principal for what
might easily have become a serious cause of
distraction in the school.
"He was always so true and manly in his
deportment," writes Dr. S. H. Taylor,'  " so
considerate in whatever he supposed might
involve any irregularity in the school, that
he secured my warm interest and entire confidence. In the company connected with the
academy, there were from  time to time
planis and projects started that might be
supposed to interfere with the general plan
or course of study in the school, but he was
so thoughtful in regard to all these, that as
commander, he would never have one of them
put to vote till he had consulted me; and
~ Principal of Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass,




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.    73
then, if my views were different from his
wishes, with a generous and manly spirit,
without the least appearance of opposition
he complied with what I thought best. So
in regard to everything else connected with
the school, he was all that I could have desired. I can now recall nothing in his whole
deportment which I could have wished otherwise. You can well imagine, then, that
even in the midst of the hurry and cares of,
the closing days of the term, the news of his
death was most painful to me.
"The remembrance of your son will
always be sweet. He died in the service of
the. country, and he died a Christian-two
circumstances which involve more true nobleness than all things else."
A dear friend,* who often watched from
his garden the boy-captain drilling his company upon the opposite green, and who had
also a personal knowledge of his character,
writes:
" Your noble boy we all knew well enough
* Professor Austin Phelps, D. D.
7




74     TIHE SERGEANYT'S.MEMORIAL.
to love him and trust him. His quiet manliness won our hearts, and we have often
spoken of him in our family circle as one of
the few young friends whose military career
we watched anxiously and hopefully."
And another honored divine of New England, among the foremost of her patriots,*
sends this reminiscence of the academy captain:
"Two years since, when attending the
examination of the theological students at
Andover, I there saw your son at the head of
a company of the young men in the academy.
After drilling  them  for some time, he
marched them to the front of the Mansion
House, where they were paraded in honor
of some of the trustees who were at that
time present. His manly air, his skillful
drilling, and his graceful military salute to
the trustees, as the governors of the institution, are still fresh before me. A few days
since, my eye glanced casually at a newspaper announcement of his decease, and I can
Mev. W. T. Dwight, D. D., Portland, Maine.




THE SERGEANT'S iMEMORIAL.    75
now easily recognize in the young soldier of
the 106th N. Y. S. V., who has so early
fought the good fight of Christian patriotism,
the more youthful leader of Andover Hill.
" The loss of such a son must awaken the
bitterness of a father's grief. While you have
reason to bless God that you have had such
a son to give up to our suffering country,
you need, and I doubt not you have received,
strength sufficient to prevent you from falling utterly for the time.
" To fight this monstrous treason and perjury is as sacred a duty as to send missionaries to the heathen; and it seems to demand more submission, more simple trust,
when the young soldier falls prematurely,
than when the missionary is thus removed.
But, in the view of God, your dear son is as
truly a conqueror as if the last battle had
been fought and the last army of the rebellion cut down. He has gone up soon to receive his reward, far sooner than you looked
for, but to as blessed a rest as if a veteran
from a hundred conflicts.




7 {6    TWIE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
"Patient, serene courage; disinterested
consecration to one's country, because God
is thus served; and a filial trust the groundwork of all-no exhibition of youthful worth
can be more attractive or powerful in its
influence. Your son, being dead, still speaks,
and with more energy than if he were still
on earth.
" Not a few young soldiers of the cross
who entered our armies with a similar spirit
have, like him, already exchanged the sword
of earthly conflict for the palm of the conqueror above. Our country knows not how
to part with them, but Heaven is' the happier for every sucl addition to her chosen
ones."




XII.
TrHE warrior shades of ancient Greece
imust have been stirred with a bewildering jargon of time and place, as the Phillips
seniors of 1861, on graduation day, were
enrolled as a company of Greek Skirmishers,
and drilled by Hardee's Tactics done into
Greek by "Abrocomcas, the Chief General."
The audience, however, seemed conscious of
no anachronisin in this. sudden transformation of the captain of the Ellsworth Cadets,
who put his spearmen and bowmen in battle
array against the Miegarians as promptly as
if they had been but going through an everyday drill in front of the Seminary.
It was not strange that a youth who had
spent two years at a military school, and
7*              (77)




7S     THE SER GEANT'S ME;l~ORIAL.
had elicited the commendation of military
men for his skillful handling of a company,
should feel himself called to serve his country in arms, and more competent to serve
her in this capacity than some newly-commissioned officers.  Said Dr. Taylor, who
had a fatherly interest in his success at College, "If John makes up his mind that it
is his duty to enter the army, nothing can
hold him back."
And, surely, no Christian patriot would
seek, upon any personal grounds, to hold
back a son qualified to bear arms, from the
defense of the nation in this great conflict
for Constitutional liberty, for human freedom, and for Christian civilization.  But
in his case, at that time, there were many
things to be considered in determining the
question of duty.  Not yet nineteen years,of age, of a slender constitution, impaired.anew by the severe application of the winter, it was doubtful whether he could really
be of service in the camp or the field. It
seemed possible, also, that his eagerness to




THE S'ERGEANT'S ME2iRLORIAL.    79
enlist was but a boyish enthusiasm, caught
by sympathy, which might fail under the
test of hardship.  Moreover, it is indispensable to the welfare of the country that,
even in times of war, a portion of her sons
should be in training for future service in
the educated professions; and while in a
certain sense man counts for man in such a
struggle, yet to detach these from an unfinished course of education, and set them
upon the work of present defense, would be.a more serious detriment to the permanent
interests of the nation, than the withdrawal
of an equal number of farmers or artisans
from manual labor.
This was clearly seen by that foremost
patriot of the American Revolution, John
Adams, when he counseled Mr. Jonathan
Mason, who had been entered as a student in
his law office, to continue at his books, notwithstanding the commotions of the opening
Revolution. ANo sooner had the news of the
Declaration of Independence reached Boston, than young Mason, fired with martial




80     THE SERGEANT'S i[EMORIAL.
enthusiasm, wrote to Mr. Adams, proposing
to relinquish his studies and to take up
arms for the country. Writing from Philadelphia, the very center of Revolutionary
fervor, on the 18th July, 1776, Mr. Adams
says:
"I cannot advise you to quit the retired
scene of which you have hitherto appeared to
be so fond, and engage in the noisy business
of war. I doubt not you have honor and
spirit and abilities sufficient to make a figure
in the field; and if the future circumstances
of your country should make it necessary, I
hope you would not hesitate to buckle on
your armor. But at present I see no necessity for it. Accomplishments of the civil
and political kind are no less necessary for
the happiness of mankind than martial ones.
We cannot all be soldiers; and there will
probably be, in a very few years, a greater
scarcity of lawyers and statesmen than of
warriors.
"The circumstances of this country from
the years 1755 to 1758, during which period




THE SERRGEANVT'S MEMORIAL.    81
I was a student in Mr. Putnam's office, were
almost as confused as they are now, and the
prospect before me, my young friend, was
much more gloomy than yours. I felt an
inclination exactly similar to yours, for engaging in active martial life, but I was advised, and, upon a consideration of all circumstances, concluded, to mind my books.
Whether my determination was prudent or
not, it is not possible to say, but I never
repented it."
Clearly then, as matters stood during the
first six months of the present war, there
was no urgency for the enlistment of minors
engaged in a special course of education.
But this young aspirant for military service felt his inward call.  To prove his
power of endurance, he made the tour of
the White Mountains on foot, walking fifteen
and twenty miles a day, with a knapsack
on his shoulders and a gun in his hand.
His capacity for useful service, as shown by
his success in the Andover organization, he
urged as his chief reason for wishing to en



82     TIE S:ERGE4ANT'S iEIORIAL.
ter the army. And as for study, he had no
thought of reliquishing a college education,
but would return to that after the war.
There seemed also a Providential opening
in the offer of a New England Governor
who had witnessed his Andover drills, to
give him a commission in a regiment just
starting for the South.
Yet with all this strength of desire and
of conviction, such was his deference toward
his natural advisers, that when I said to
him, "My opinion is that in the present
surplusage of volunteers,* students are not
called upon to give up college for the army,
-but here is the money for your outfit at
either; go to Concord and get your commission, or go to New Haven and enter
Yale;" —he went alone to think, and I
doubt not to pray, and, on returning, said,
"Father, I do wish to enter the army, and I
feel that there is the place for me; but as
you seem to prefer it, I will go to college."
Believing that another year's development
* September, 1861.




TIHE SERGEANT'S i~EMORIAL.    83
of brain and muscle would make him so
much the better soldier, if that should prove.to be his calling, I was content to leave the
final settlement of the question to whatever
opportunity or emergency might afterwards
arise; and so he entered college in good
faith, thouglh with abated zeal.
He does not study "very hard," nor aim
to take more than a "fair " stand-for his
heart is enlisted in another service. Still
he "has study enough to keep him busy,"
and in the general, college-life moves on
pleasantly and prosperously....... "I like
Herodotus quite well; I think I do like
Greek pretty well, considering. I try to
make the best of everything, but most
earnestly wish that'peculiar circumstances'
would let me enter, the army. I would start
to-night if I could."
Seeking the best wisdom for him and for
mnyself, I commended him to the thoughtful
and patriotic counsels of my most tried and
faithful friend, Rev. Leonard Bacon, D.D.
of New Haven.




84     THE SER GEANT'S MEMORIAL.
"I have had a talk with John," wrote
Dr. B. in reply, "but found that I was not
likely to make much impression by the arguments which I used to dissuade him from
interrupting the course of his education.
My object in talking with him was not so
much to influence him as to kiow the state
of his mind.
" I do not see how you can wisely overrule or obviate his strong inclination. What
the Providence of God intends concerning
him, we cannot foresee. But if he were my
son, and I could not change his mind-if I
saw that the impulse was strong upon him,
and was making study and all peaceful pursuits distasteful to him, —I think I should
be compelled to say, however reluctantly,
It is of the Lord.' Perhaps God has purposes concerning him which our short-sighted wisdom would baffle if it could. We
must say in such cases,'The will of the
Lord be done.'
"Perhaps it would be well for you to put
him upon an examination of his own motives




THE SER GEANT'S EMEORIAL.    85
-whether he wants to undertake this military service from mere restlessness, from the
spirit of adventure, or from higher motives
and in the spirit of self-sacrifice.
" I will only add that I was much pleased
with the modest manliness of his bearing in
the whole conversation. Should he go into
the army, I think he will be found every
inch a man. When my sons went, my feeling was, Somebody's sons must go, and why
not mine?  May God direct you and bless
you in this dear son and in all your children!"
As the result of this interview, Johnwho, in common with his father, was seeking
to know the will of God in this matter -determined to rest his final decision upon an
application to Governor Buckingham for a
commission as lieutenant. This conclusion
he communicates in these playful words:
"To-morrow evening I will send to the
Governor of this State a series of documents
from yourself, Uncle D., Mr. Russell, Dr.
8




86     TIHE SER GEANT'S MEMORIAL.
Bacon, etc., etc., showing all my good qualities; (each letter of the above named to be,
in fact, an essay on some. particular good
quality, so as to have no waste of recomnendation by repetition!) These the Governor will read, and, if he gives me an appointiment, well and good; if not, I will drop
the subject and devote myself to Latin, and
worse Greek, and worse still algebra; that
is, if I pass the examination next week.
This soup remains to be served. This is my
final decision, to which,
"Witness my hand and seal,
-"~7 —~/'~  "Professor or Colonel,
~ ~;"JOH-N H. THOMPSON."
When the Governor replied that he had
no vacancy, the predestined soldier wrote,
"Because the Governor did not send me
a commission as brigadier-general, or even
first-lieutenant, I see no reason to infer that
the will of Providence is against me." But
that will was not yet made plain.
The interest of Governor Buckingham in




TIE SERGEANT'S YEM OPIAL.     87
his application is most kindly expressed in
the following note of April 9, 1863:
"DEAR SIR:-My thanks for your favor
of the 26th inst., respecting the death of
your noble son.
"I remember him with perfect distinctness, and regretted at the time he called on
me I saw no way in which I could commission him in a Connecticut regiment, and secure to the honor of the State the services
of so pure a Christian patriot. Allow me
to express my deep sympathy with you and
your family in the irreparable loss you have
sustained.
"This is one of the strong proofs of the
criminality of this rebellion-one of the sacrifices necessary for its suppression. What a
cost to our nation! But the compensation
will, I doubt not, be the deliverance of the
captive, the extension of the principles of
civil liberty, and the more complete and
perfect security for personal rights.
" Allow me to rejoice with you in the rich




88    THE SER EANT'S MEMORIAL.
consolation which you have respecting the
consecration of your noble son not only to
the interests of his country, but to the cause
of Christ.
"With much sympathy,
"Believe me very truly yours,
" WM. A. BUCKINGHAM."




XIII.
ON the 25th day of May, 1862, General
Banks, whose forces had been seriously
reduced by the demands of General Ale
Clellan's campaign on the peninsula, was
driven  down the Shenandoah valley by
the superior numbers of Stonewall Jackson's army, and the alarm was sounded from
WVashington that the capital was in danger.
Several regiments of State militia at once
volhnteered for three months'. serviceamong these the 22d regiment of New York
National Guards. The exigency upon which
the long-coveted enlistment was made to
hinge had plainly arisen, and the boy's heart
was wild with joy when a telegram, signed
with his father's name, summoned him to lay
8*             89)




90     TtIE SERGEANT'S MEMTORIAL.
down his books and to take up his musket.
His classmates had never seen him so jubilant even in the merriest of college sports.
In twenty-four hours he was enrolled as a
private in, Company G. of the 22d, and was
on his way to join the regiment at Baltimore.
It was well for father and son that both had
so long and carefully weighed the question
of duty, that when this new peril of the
country came there was nothing left but for
the one to say Go, and for the other to
mlarch.
Though not much given to personal intimacies, yet in his nine months' stay at Yale,
John had favorably impressed his classmates
by the same qualities that had marked his
early school life. The fellow-student who
stood nearest in his confidence thus sums up
that brief college career:
"Your son was highly respected by the
class, and esteemed by all who became acquainted with him. Among his classmates
he was very reserved, never obtrusive, and
admired by all for his manly bearing and




THE SERGEANT'S EJEXORIAL.    91
gentlemanly deportment. Among the members of his own Division he was a great
favorite, and won praise from all by his mirth
and pleasant manner. He was, as we are
accustomed to say, the life of his Division,
and I think, if he could have remained with
us during the course, he would have become
very popular; and I know, as our acquaintance ripened into intimacy, that he would
have been respected by the class, and the
recipient of its honors.
" In the studies of the college he never
professed any brilliant attainments, nor did
he attempt any display. He preferred other
things; and, in fact, from the very commencement of his college course, he seemed, in
one sense, a stranger to us, and doubtless
duty called him elsewhere. He never entered with zeal into stndy, because his heart
and soul were, as I understood him, enlisted
in another and nobler cause, in the service
of which he hoped to enroll his name. He
alwajys seemed restless and impatient under
the restraint, longing for the word to go to




92    TTEE SERGEAT.'"S MEMORIAL.
battle; and when I think how delighted he
was in entering the service in the humblest
capacity, I cannot believe otherwise than
that his motives sprung from the purest and
most patriotic sources; and were I able to
relate the many conversations we have had
on the subject, his own words would be the
strongest proof of his sincerity. We, who
knew him and were under him at, Andover,
can testify that he merited other situations.
He was the first representative of his class
in the war, and we take pleasure that he
was such."
The class itself expressed its appreciation
of him in the following tribute:
"WVHEREAS, we have heard with heartfelt
sorrow of the death of our late classmate,
JOHN HANSON THOMPSON, while in the serb
vice of his country; therefore,
" Resolved, That we, his classmates, have
lost in his death a warm friend and genial
companion; and our country, a devoted patriot.
"tResolved, That we, who knew him well,




THFE SERGEANT'S MEMIORIAL.    93
can testify to the earnest patriotism and
noble ambition which impelled him to leave
books and friends that he might devote his
life and labor to his country.
" Resolved, That we tender to his bereaved
family our sincere sympathy and condolence.
" Resolved, That the class wear the usual
badge of mourning for thirty days; and
that a committee of six be appointed to attend the funeral; also, that a copy of these
resolutions be sent to his family, and to the
daily papers of New Iaven, and to the Yale
Literary Magazine, for publication.




XIV.
1IS first experience of camp life might
have dampened his ardor, but for the
thoroughness of his conviction that duty
called him to serve his country in any capacity: and so, after a night spent in rain and
mud, and a heavy morning's task in digging
trenches, carrying the loads of soil upon a
board, for lack of a wheelbarrow, he says,
cheerily " Now all this is extremely'rough;'
but it is jolly, if one takes it right." After
a few days, the regiment was ordered to
Harper's Ferry, then a post of danger. "I
am  very glad, indeed," he writes. "We
may be brought into active service —may
not. I will not speculate where I know
nothing. But, whatever may come, I ama
(94)




THE SERGEANT'S EMiORIAl ~.    95
ready-it is what I came for. I have been
happy thus far, and shall not complain at
any orders. We take one day's rations, and
each man twenty rounds of ball cartridge;
so we are ready for anything, and hurrying
on. Much love to all; and, as I know not
what may come, Good-bye to one and
all."
The three months' enlistment passed
quietly in Camp Aspinwall, at Bolivar, with
just enough of rumors and alarms to keep
the Twenty-second on the qui. vive, without
testing its pluck in an engagement. The
routine of guard and picket duty, the daily
drill, with occasional special, exercises in
connection with a company of artillery
posted near the camp, gave our young private a thorough "breaking in" for a soldier's life; while the harder service of the
pick and the spade, to which he was subjected
in digging entrenchments, and the open-air
exposure to heat and cold, rain, wind and
mud, tested both his physical endurance and
his martial enthusiasm.




96     THE SER GEALrT'S MEiVORIrA.
With scrupulous attention to personal
cleanliness, frequent bathing, the avoidance of noxious habits, and a "merry
heart," cheerful in the consciousness of duty,
calm in its reliance upon God, he maintained
a tone of health and of spirits that threw
over his daily letters the charm of the surrounding rivers, woods and mountains, in
their sunniest hours.
"I am  enjoying myself, and growing
strong and brown.  One gets accustomed
to sleeping and waking'to order;' and,
when one can lie down on a bare board, and
in two minutes be soundly and comfortably
asleep, he must be either tired or not particular.1"
"August 7th. Father's birth-day!  Turn
out the guard! Present arms! Allow me
to congratulate you on the happy termination of your - year.:' One son having passed through a complete course of youthful instruction-a tour
in Europe, all boarding and public schools,
the Yale Scientific, and, lastly, an elaborate




THE SERGESANT'S MEAORIAL.    97
course in Yale itself —now takes his stand
in the noble cause of his country, and toils
in the trenches in the mud of the'sacred
soil.'"
But, with all his bonhomie, of which
this is a characteristic specimen, he does not
forget to write of the prayer meetings,
nightly at his captain's tent-" interesting
and sensible meetings," and inspiriting by
the numbers in attendance, and by the musicG
of the soldiers' hymns.
He writes to a sister, " Do not fear that I
smoke too much, or that I shall fall into bad
habits. I have promised not to play cards —
or I did promise before I went to collegeand I have kept my word thus far."
The moral tone of the regiment, and the
personal character of his tent-mates, favored
his desire to maintain an upright and consistent Christian walk amid the dissipating
influences of camp life. Indeed, the reputation of the Twenty-second for gentlemanly
virtues seems indelibly impressed upon the
residents of Harper's Ferry. The owner of
9




98     THE SERG. EANT'S MEMORIAL.
a small fruit garden near Bolivar said to me,
recently, " That Twenty-second was the best
regiment ever sent here. Thizey didn't steal!"
Certainly, private Thompson of Company
G, always counted himself fortunate in his
association with such "jolly, good fellows,"
who, while relishing fun and working manfully, maintained in the tent and the camp,
the courtesies of the gentleman and the
graces of the Christian. What Company G
thought of their young recruit their own
resolutions testify; in which they "deeply
deplore the early death of one who gave
promise of so much usefulness, and who, by
the transparent sincerity and truthfulness of
his character, by his unvarying courtesy and
kindness of disposition, by his unassuming
modesty, and by the manifestation of all the
traits that mark the true Christian gentleman, had become greatly endeared to all of
us, who rejoice to remember him as comrade
and friend-as a soldier, prompt, ready,
actiTe and obedient; as a friend, true,
earnest and sincere."




TIHE SERGEANTT' S MEMORIAL.    99
The Company voted to inscribe his name
on the roll of its Honorary Members, with
the words" MOied in tlCe veUirce of ~i$ fftonntrv."




xv.
AUGUST 23, 1862. —"In looking back
over the last three months, I can only
feel glad that I have had the experience
here, and do not grudge the sacrifices made.
I am in better health and spirits than when
I started. And in looking forward, I have
fdr a few days considered the whole subject
carefully, and think I had better go again,
for three years or the war,-that it is my
duty to go.
"This is the sum of all. I have always
wanted to go to the war. After long waiting, I have tried the experiment. And having seen the hardest service, except a fight,
I leave it to you whether my letters have
been grumbling complaints.
(100)




THE SE RGEAN7'T'S MEMJIORIAL.    101
"I am in for it, and like it; but as to reenlisting, if you' don't see it,' I will do my
duty in college, as heretofore."
One so ready to do his duty, in any sphere,
could not be long in learning to what sphere
he was now called. Of course, he did not
wish to re-enlist as a private, though willing
to do even that, if his country's need required it; but he felt himself competent for
a higher post. " I may say, without boasting, that I have a better theoretical knowledge of, and have had more practice in,
all military movements, than half of our
officers; while, for general education, my
advantages have been far better, whatever
my knowledge may be. I have tried thoroughly to understand all military tactics.
" I can not think it is my duty to go as a
private for three years, as long as we have
so many ignorant officers. As an officer, it
would be my duty to go, because I think I
know enough, and have the full spirit of the
thing, and don't care much for anything
else."




102    THE SERGEANT'S ~EMORIAL.
His aspirations, however, were not high,
and were based more upon the conviction of a
capacity to serve, than upon a desire of personal distinction. A sergeantcy would suit
well enough, and this post was offered him
him in the One Hundred and Eleventh New
York State Volunteers, just as the term of
the Twenty-second National Guard expired.
It was necessary, however, that he should return to New York, and be mustered out,
before enlisting anew, and this led to a
series of adventures that proved his patience,
courage and enthusiasm in his vocation.
On the very day when he should have
reached his new regiment at Harper's Ferry,
Lee's army invaded Maryland at the Monocacy, and the train in which the sergeant
left Baltimore was stopped at that point by
the destruction of the bridge. As the train
approached the scene of danger, he loaded
his revolver and went forward to the locomotive, to keep an eye upon the engineer,
concerning whose loyalty a suspicion had
been started among the passengers. By the




THE SERGEAiNT'S MEMORIAL.    103
time the cars returned to Baltimore, that
excitable city had been placed under martial
law, and hardly had the sergeant left the
depot, when he was arrested by a mounted
patrol of the provost-guard, and with a lot
of ragamuffins, scoured up from the streets,
was marched ignominiously to the guardhouse, some two or three miles distant.
Being in soldier's dress, but without arms,
and having no descriptive papers,-for Red
Tape had no printed form of mustering out
on hand, at the New York head-quarters, and
he had expected to be mustered in at Harper's
Ferry,-he was presumed to be a deserter,
and had nothing but his honest face to certify his statement.
As he humorously describes it: " While I
stood in front of the depot,
Lo! from afar there came a band,
With one that midst them stately rode,
A leader in the land;who reined up his steed, and shouted,' Halloa
you! have you a pass?''No, sir.''Fall




104    THE SERGEANT'S MEAIORIAL.
in, then.' The bugle sounded forward; and
at once your son was receiving the honors
of Baltimore, marching through the crowded
streets with a body-guard of twenty-five
mounted men, with drawn sabres, ten upon
each side, and the others closing up front
and rear; —a horse-thief just before him,
drunken stragglers around him, and he himself having'nary document' nor friend to
back him."
After long waiting, with the prospect of
a night in dismal and dirty quarters, he succeeded in getting a hearing, which resulted
in his being marched from office to office,
until he was given into the custody of the
guard to be conveyed to fort McIHenry!
Up to this point he had borne the affair
with good-humored patience, forbearing to
aggravate his blundering captors by protestations or complaints; but now he demanded
to be conducted to the commander of the
post for a personal investigation. At this
the marshal ordered him back to the hotel
where his knapsack was deposited, there to




THtE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   105
remain under guard. Fortunately, he met a
friend who gained access to General Wool,
and procured for him a pass to return to
New York.
By this time Red Tape had succeeded in
obtaining from Washington a printed form
of discharge from service in the 22d; and
fortified with this and with a pass, thd sergeant set out immediately by way of Harrisburgh for Wheeling, hoping in this way to
reach the 111th and assume his post in season for the impending battle. But at Cumberland he found that he could proceed no
further-the communication being intercepted upon that side also;-and thus he was
spared the feeling of a personal disgrace in
the surrender of Harper's Ferry. All this
time he was giving his whole energy, at his
own expense, to the attempt to serve his
country in the field, while states, cities and
towns were lavishing bounty-money to attract recruits. In his letters of this date he
pleasantly signs himself the " Would-be-sergeant seeking for a chance to fight."




106    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
At Cumberland he volunteered his services in drilling the citizens, and in other
measures of defence against a rumored rebel
invasion. He did good, also, as he had opportunity-affectionately warning a young
officer whonm he saw under the effects of
liquor, of the danger and the shame of such
indulgence; and giving words of sympathy
and comfort to the sick and wounded in hospital. Having taken up the vocation of a
soldier as a religious duty, he never lost
sight of its grave responsibilities; and the
enthusiasm and vivacity with which he entered upon his work was tempered by the
thoughtful forecasting of possibilities. In
describing the general hospital at Clear
Spring, near Cumberland-its healthy location and the excellent management of the
surgeons,- he adds, " I looked with interest
on this hospital-work, for my service in these
parts may sometime end there, for a time at
least."
While waiting at Cumberland for the
coveted opportunity of service, he attracted




TTIE SERPGC2ANT'S ri{E1ORIAL.   107
the notice of a captain in the 106th N. Y.
S. V., then stationed at New Creek, who
offered him a sergeantcy in Company A of
that regiment, where his true military life
began, and in which he continued till its
close.




XV I  een a n e f he deah  your
(f J HAD seen a notice of the death of your
son in the Evening Post," writes an
honored friend who himself has rendered to
the country the highest personal services
and sacrifices, —" and Mrs. L. had cut it out
to be sent with other slips to my son in
Louisiana, but little did we think that the
name Thompson, there, -was your own family
name.  The'Sergeant Thompson' made a
deep impression upon us.  It sounded so
manly and so patriotic when every one who
has some education strives for a commission.":
It was his own conviction that his knowledge of the manual could be used to the best
* Professor Francis Lieber, LL.D.
(108)




THE SERGEANT'S [EHMORIAL.   109
advantage in the position of a non-commissioned drill-officer, and he determined to begin with doing faithfully the particular work
that he understood.
On the 20th Sept. 1862, he writes from
New Creek Station, Va., "I am happy to
state that I am just about in the position
where I have tried to place myself for the
last two weeks. After all my various luck,
ill and good, I have found a home for three
years.  Capt. P. offers me a second sergeantcy in his company. This is not as high
as was offered at Harper's Ferry, but I don't
want to fight Indians in the West with paroled prisoners. 1, 2, 3, How about that
11th?  So I shall accept this offer, and if
I am 2nd sergeant for the war, it is only my
fault. If I rise to a commission it is my
own glory."
His competence and energy soon won for
him the confidence of both officers and men.
The regiment was one of new recruits, and
the absence of some of its officers devolved'
upon others much extra service7.especially
10




110   gTHE SERGEANI"S MEMORIAL.
in the heavy picket duty that the post required. For a time the newly-enlisted sergeant had almost the entire instruction of
his company, then stationed on the Knobly
mountain, two miles from camp. As fidelity
in small things, and the habit of prompt and
implicit obedience are prime qualities in a
soldier, his method of training furnishes a:good illustration of both.
" I am doing the best I can to teach the
men all things in the most exact manner. I
drill them five hours daily.
" It is hard work to manage some of the
men; that is, they are old and want Treasons
for everything. If I say'you must remove
the paper from the cartridge before loading,'
some one says,' I never load that way, I
shan't do it.''Sir! put that ball in without
the paper.''Why?'' Because I tell you
to;'-and at last, in goes the ball.
"' Company, fall in for drill!''Where
are we going?'Never mind where you are
going, fall in,' say I. And though I often'have to repeat orders, and repeat again, I




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   111
never had a man refuse to obey, and always
after he has obeyed I tell him all I can to
explain his trouble. But they are learning
rapidly to obey promptly. At night I always post the Camp Guard. I have the
countersign and go round to each sentry
and give him full instructions, and often if I
wake up at two or three o'clock, I go round
and see how things are.
"The Captain, or 1st Lieutenant acting
captain in command, puts a great deal of confidence in me; he never drills the men nor
attends to Guard mounting. All I do is to
try and do my duty to the fullest extent, in
hope that all will go well."
With him the daily drill was never a
matter of mere regulation routine, but, appreciating its importance, he sought in this,
as in every thing he undertook, the highest
attainable excellence.  "I saw the dressparade of the Twenty-third Illinois, Col.
Mulligan's Irish Brigade, and they equal
the Seventh New York. It roused me a
good deal, and so I put Company A through




112    TIHE SERGEANT'S ME7ORIAL.
the next time; for two hours I kept them in
a regular hard drill. It is quite amusing
to hear the men talk:'Sergeant, if you drill
us much longer, we shall beat the regiment,7
etc.;'Sergeant, I never was drilled before
I saw you.' The other companies are under
drill-masters, lieutenants, etc., from Mulligan's Brigade, so it is quite a race for me to
see whether Company A, in spite of all its
hard guard duties, can not beat the other
companies when again we meet."
This laudable ambition soon had its reward. "Yesterday was Company A's first
appearance on dress-parade, and I have the
satisfaction of learning from many sources
that, in all respects,'we' were equal to the
other companies, and that in our'order
arms' we surpassed the whole. I do not
tell this to boast, but because it is a great
gratification to me to know that, if I am
now sick, Company A first got some good
from me.
" Do not, by any means, imagine that, in
three weeks or three years, I am to be made




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   113
second lieutenant in this company. All the
other sergeants have prior claims, for their
aid in recruiting and because-they are from
the regiment's native county. I only desire
to do my full duty, whether as sergeant,
drill-master, or whatever position I may occupy. I have not asked for promotion, nor
talked of it, either to my officers or fellow
sergeants."
The benefits of this persevering drillwork soon appeared in his ready handling
of the company upon a night-alarm, in the
absence of the captain and other officers.
"Night before last we had an alarm  in
camp. I went to the sentry with Sergeant
C., and found that he had fired at a man
who was skulking round and refused to
answer the challenge. C. and I started
down the hill and searched the bushes, but
found no one. I went back and reported.
Lieut. D. turned out the guard, and left the
company in my care. I formed company,
loaded, fixed bayonets, and then made themn'mark time,' to keep warm, and to cool them
10*




114    THE SERGEANVT'S HEMORIAL.
off. By the time D. returned, I had a cool
and ready company. He took half, and left
me in charge of the rest and of the camp,
the men to lie in ranks just under the hill.
After scouting for some two hours, we
returned to our bunks. I presume that some
bushwackers were'feeling us,' to see how
quickly we could turn out."
A strong mark of the confidence of his
superior officers in his courage, fidelity, and
discretion, was given in the incident which
is here described in his own words:
" One misty, rainy morning, as I was sitting in my tent, just after breakfast, the flap
was unceremoniously thrown open, and Major P., our captain, called out,' Halloa, Sergeant! Why haven't you reported at the,colonel's headquarters?'
"'Because I was not ordered to do so.'
I was expecting some joke from the major,
as is his habit.'' Well, go up and report at once; you
are to go to Cumberland.'
"I went up, and the colonel said,'Ser



THE SERGEANiT'S HEHORiIAL.   115
geant, you are to go to Cumberland with
the rebel captain. Have you a good revolver?"
"' Yes, sir.'
"' Go to your quarters and get ready;
then report here.'
" I went to the carall and got two
horses, and then to the provost headquarters
and found the captain. He was a fine looking fellow, about thirty, strong, well' built,
and very pleasant.
" Captain, I am to take you to Cumberland; your horse is waiting now.'
"' Is any one going beside yourself?'
"'No, sir; I am detailed to take you to
Cumberland. Here is my order:'Sergeant
Thompson will proceed to Cumberland on
horseback, and deliver to General Kelly the
person of Moses O'Brien, a deserter from
the rebel service,' etc. Captain, if you go
with me quietly, and make no attempt to
escape, I will do well by you; but, if I see
the least motion, a quickening of the pace
of your horse, or any thing that looks like




116    THE SERGEALNT'S MEMORIAL.
an attempt to escape, I shall shoot you at
once. You see, here is my loaded Colt's;
you are unarmed, and it will be strange if I
can't put one of the six balls through you
before you get off.'
"'Very well, sir. I shall go quietly, for I
have no desire to escape.'
"As my prisoner was buckling on his
spurs, I suggested that I would like to wear
one myself, whereupon he at once unbuckled
and I put the spur on. We then mounted,
and were off.
"'Hope you will come back safely, Sergeant," cried some one.
"' I will.'
"I had no more idea of the road than
you have; but I knew it could not diverge
much from the railroad. The distance was
about twenty-four miles or less; the road,
the first half, was awful —mud, rocks, rivers
to ford, the Potomac, the water nearly to
my feet. We came soon to a gate, and I
suggested that the captain might dismount
and open it, as my orders were strict.




TIHE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   117
"For a time we rode in silence, and then,
as the captain seemed pleasant, I entered
into conversation, and he gave me much
information in regard to rebeldom and his
own adventures.
"He had been with Ashby, but lately
belonged to the Seventeenth Battalion cavalry. He deserted from Harper's Ferry, by
means of a sick-furlough. I had very interesting conversation all along, keeping my
eye on him. At about noon we came to
Rawlings, and as we approached a neat
farm-house, I proposed dining. The captain
said he had no money, but I told him that it
was by my invitation. We had quite a fine
farm-dinner for twenty-five cents each. I
said nothing of our relative position, and they
did not suspect my secesh, though the greyback and gilt braid was before them.
"We then mounted and rode on through
a much better country and a better road,
along the hillside. We passed some fine
farms on the plains, mostly cultivated though
not very thoroughly, as farming seems to be




118   STIE SERGE.4NT''S -E~ORIAL.
at a discount here. As soon as harvest is
over, the men go hunting and let the farms
rot till spring, hence, there is no advance or
improvement. Of course there are exceptions, and I saw a few good farms and
houses. At last we neared the railroad, and
a mountain seemed to close up all outlets,
but the road went one side and the railroad
the other. H.ere we found a picket, the outpost from Cumberland, and over the hill, or
rather from the top of the hill we saw Cumberland, about a mile off.
"I lent the captain my rubber coat in
order to hide the heavy gilt braid oh his
grey-back coat.  So pulling on his new
acquisition, he rode into the town without
drawing a crowd. We went at once to
Kelly's headquarters, I knowing full well
where they were, and tying our animals, I
marched my charge up stairs and presented
him. It seems that we came at just the
time for good luck to the captain, if his
assertions were true, for after a half hour's
talk and a few questions as to his whence




THIE SER GEAVET'S JIAEMORIAL.   119
and whither and wherefore, the General
allowed him to take the oath of allegiance
and go in peace.. We took rooms together
at the St. Nicholas, and then a good supper;
after which, the sergeant swelled round the
hotel, talking with his old friends.  He
thought of former days when he was only a
private in that hotel, but now an exalted
sergeant, ahem!
"The next morning after breakfast, I
attended to some few errands, paid my bill,
received my orders and pass from the General, said good-bye to my captain, got my
horse and was off at ten o'clock. I strapped
my coat to the saddle and put my spur to
the horse, and made some good time on the
level ground.
"I reached camp in safety at about five
o'clock; gave the return order to Colonel
James, put up my'animal,' returning once
more to the bosom of my family and the
embraces of our mess. The captain's sptur
now mine, shall be duly preserved and adorn
my future home. My future wife, whoever




120    TlHE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
she may be, shall have the pleasure of dusting it and thinking on the perils of a twentythree-mile ride with a stout rebel deserter."
From  the manner in which he fulfilled
this trust, I was not surprised to hear a captain in his regiment say, " the eye of his commanding officer was upon him, and he was designatecd for promotion to the first vacancy."
But it was grateful to hear from the lips of
his colonel, as we stood together beside
his silent form, " Your son was a complete
soldier, and a model gentleman. I had already made out his commission as lieutenant."
Indeed his young reputation had extended
beyond his own camp. A friend writes:
"My brother, Gen. J. J. Bartlett, had upon
inquiry become so favorably acquainted
with your son's character and standing in
the army,. that he had determined to offer
him a position on his staff, in case of a
vacancy expected."  And he adds, "you
have sudch a precious bequest in the Christian character and public services of a child,




THE SERGEANT'S METORI~AL.    121
it almost touches the condolence with thanksgiving, that in obedience to God's and our
country's call for a contribution, you had so
much to give."'
* Rev. W. A. Bartlett, of Brooklyn.
Ii'




XVII.
THE tactical drill, while of the first consequence in the mind of an officer, by no
means completes the round of his daily
duties in the camp. The health and comfort, the amusement and instruction of the
men, will engage much of his attention.
And it is in the every-day life of the soldier,
rather than upon the battle-field, that one
sees the best examples of patient courage
and of personal fidelity. The good soldier
learns to make light of his privations, and
even to extract pleasure from them; and
the faithful officer will bring all the resources of his mind and the advantages of his
education to bear upon tile physical, social
and moral improvement of his men.
(122)




TFIE SER GEATT'S MEMORIAL.   123
At first the non-commissioned officers of
Company A tented together, thus securing
for themselves some extra comforts, and enjoying much pleasurable intercourse. "Five
such abolition, slavery-hating, vigorous-prosecution-of-the-war fellows you never saw
in any one space, ten by ten."  Their evenings were given to studies and discussions
in science, literature and economics; —geology and history being pursued in the way
of regular recitations.
"We have just closed our debate, a very
interesting and I think profitable one; the
common question of George Washington
and Columbus-which deserves the most
praise. It rubs up our patriotism and acts
as a general improvement. We always end
with a critique by some one member, and
that seems to me to be a good plan.
" Altogether, our boys. speak well, and are
improving rapidly.  It is far better than
cards or mere talk. We debate some three
times a week."
This practice Sergeant T. kept up after




124    TIWE SERGEANT'S iMEMIORIAL.
the mess above referred to was disbanded,
and the non-commissioned officers were distributed into tents with the men.
Indeed it was under this arrangement, in
a Sibley tent with twelve privates, that he
best showed his aptitude for a soldier's life.
His habits of cleanliness and neatness led
him to insist upon the daily use of washtowel, comb, and tooth-brush for the person,
as much as upon oil and emery for the gun.
This ingenuity devised many contrivances
for the compact and orderly arrangement of
equipage and utensils, and multiplied the
comforts and enjoyments of the men. Said
one of them, himself a mechanic, " The sergeant was always proposing some new ideas
for our comfort; he would draw a plan, and
teach us how to make this and that [pointing to various racks, etc. in the tent], so that
he cared for us like a brother." Said another, "We used to watch for him to come
in, he had such a pleasant way with him;
he always had a kind word for every one
in the tent."  And they all testified, "In




THE SERGEAzAT'S MEMORIAL.   125
all the time he was with us, we never knew
him to get angry, we never heard from him
an uncouth expression, nor saw in him any
improper or ungentlemanly action."
To divert the men from cards, he proposed making a set of chess-men, a large
part of which he carved with his own knife.
His Sibley tent with thirteen inmates, poorly lighted by day or night, with a stove in
the center occupying the place of a table,
afforded much smaller accommodations for
reading and writing than the old wall tent
for five.  But he maintained in it order,
comfort, and good cheer.
" We play chess a good deal now, having
made a set of men and a board. It is very
pleasant, and a good change from whist or
euchre. We have a rule to stop all games
if any quarrel arises, as sometimes cannot
well be avoided; —I mean a quarrel in
words, but this is not at all frequent."
He kept up as much as possible his own
literary habits and tastes. His daily mail
usually exceeded that of any one in the regi11*




126    TIlE SERGEANT'S MEMIORIAL.
ment. As he was well supplied with books
and newspapers, Tent No. 4 became the circulating library of the company.
His boxes of creature-comforts sent from
home, were shared with his tent-mates as
freely as if they had been mess-officers.
"This is our Christmas eve, and yours,
too. To-day my box came, and it was equal
to any one of Professor Hermann's performances to unpack it, and reveal article after
article till my whole bunk was covered, and
then to end by removing a whole library
from  the bottom-all firom one wee box.
Everything was in prime order; it could
not have been opened for inspection; and
to repack it-why, I could only lay back
half of the things! The books are just the
ones for Tent No. 4. We shall spend much
time in reading; indeed we are already at
work. The drawing materials are all useful,
and I will improve, if I can." By help of the
timely box, and a few extra purchases from
a distant farm-house, the Christmas festival
was kept with even greater gusto than




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   127
around the well-spread family hoard. The
tent dinner was served upon the top of his
bunk, which was covered with newspapers
in lieu of a cloth.
" Of course we did not eat in silence, but
joke followed joke, and we had a jovial old
time. No liquor on the table. After our
dinner was over, we called on one another
for toasts and speeches, as we sat around
the stove smoking our cigars and pipes, and
those at home were by no means forgotten.
I consulted my album, to see how you all
looked. Altogether, we had a very merry
time."
In the same cheerful vein he writes to a
sister: "I hope you will enjoy the skating,
though we don't want much more cold here;
for when the wind blows and rattles the
tent as though it would pull it up, and it is
freezing cold, then I think a brick house and
a good furnace, with Bridget to put on the
coal, might be warmer; but I don't believe
that any brick house contains a nicer family
of thirteen than you might find in our white




128    TIlE SERGEANT'S IEiORIAL.
tent of an evening. It is so cold to-night
that I can hardly write; it rains outside,
and is dreary, cold. Of course I think of
you all at home, but I do not feel home-sick
at all. I am too much in for it now.
".We are very cozy in our quarters. My
men have built me a fine bunk. In place of
a feather bed, I have two thicknesses of newspaper on the boards! I sleep very soundly,
and am never troubled with lameness."
While he was thus contented and cheery
in his personal feelings, he studied to allay
discontent among others, and also to remove
its causes. After a serious sickness,he writes:
"I can only lay my illness to poor cooking, half-cooked beans, and once our meat
was tainted a little.  It is a shame that
when Uncle Sam gives us such abundant
rations, and of good quality, we have them
ruined by the cooks. I am doing all in my
power to have more care given to these matters, but cannot say much; for a sergeant
should set a good example to the men by
not grumbling."




XVIII.
HIS Christian character was never demonstrative. With him religion did not run
much to the tongue. To his parents, indeed,
he had sometimes unveiled the recesses of
his soul-life-with a freedom that he would
use with no others; and his very questionings concerning points of personal experience, and his conflicts with innermost
temptations, were both in manner and in
subject-matter imperative evidences of his
sincere and principled piety.
In illustration of the prayerful habit of
his mind, the following paragraph from a
composition upon early friendships, written
while he was a member of Phillips Academy,
is here appropriate:
"While we are choosing from our com(129)




130    THE SERGEAN3T'S A~EQZIORIAL.
panions those best adapted both to sympa-'thize and to rejoice with us, let us not forget that there is a Friend above all others,
with whom a true friendship may and should
be formed by all. Knowing that this friendship is purer, more beautiful and lasting
than any that can be formed with earthly
friends, that this love is without height or
depth-unchanged as the long ages of eternity roll on-forget not thy Creator in the
days of thy youth."
He had learned to trust in Jesus as a
Friend. I see him now, as he stood with
me alone in his chamber strapping his knapsack for his journey to Wheeling-the parting interview. The day had been given to
his outfit. "Well, John," I said, "I believe
I have procured everything that you will
need. But there is one thing that you alone
can care for. You are going upon a very
serious business, with temptations and dangers, perhaps sickness and death before you.
You must keep near to Christ, my son, in
prayer; never forget that."




TITE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   131
Pausing for a moment in his preparations,
he turned his large loving eyes full upon me,
looked his whole soul into mine, and answered, "Father, Ithinzk  I'm all right there."
His religious habit was so reticent, so
thoughtful, so sincere, that those few words
expressed to me his whole inner life.
The well-thumbed Testament and knapsack manual for devotion, among his effects,
bear witness to his fidelity in keeping himself " all right there;" and the testimony
borne by all to the pureness of his speech
and manners, and to the Christian elevation
of his whole life, proves how thoroughly he
was right within.
He deeply deplored the lack of a proper
religious element in the organization of the
regiment. Alluding to the ordination of a
chaplain in the Broadway Tabernacle Church,
lie writes to his father:
"I hope in your charge to the chaplain
you gave him some good advice. Ours is a
Universalist, and I do not think much of
him. As far as I can see he does not under



132    T TE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
stand the duties of a minister, for what is a
chaplain but a minister, and the regiment
his congregation? If he has a meeting on
Sundav and one on Wednesday, and attends
to. a funeral once a week, is he doing his
duty as a Christian?
" There is an immense amount of work for
a minister in our regiment; of course I don't
mean simply work to convert or make a
Christian of every man, but work to check
profaneness, vulgarity, gambling, intemperance, though of the last two there is very
little.
" I wish we had a man of good sense and
real interest in his calling. Our chaplain is
kind enough; —by chance I know him, and
since my sickness he inquires for my state
of health; —but speak to the men, to put in
a good word in a pleasant and appropriate
manner, never-in our company at least."
Again, he makes this memorandum with
regard to religious privations in the camp.
" One of the worst evils of the army is the
loss of the Sabbath day. To-day I have




THE SERGEANT'S NIEMAORIAL.   133
worked harder than I ever did on a week
day at home. The men have been complaining for some days of want of full rations,
good cooking, etc. Our rations are drawn
for five days, except bread and meat which
come daily. Last evening the Captain decided to divide the company into four messes
of twenty-four each. So all last evening we
worked (we sergeants) till eleven, forming
the messes, and only seemed to make worse
messes of the whole.  Then this Sunday
morning we worked until inspection at nine,
in dealing out rations, drawing for pots and
pans, etc.; and then after inspection till two
o'clock forming the messes and dealing rations.
"As for Sunday services, our chaplain is a
Universalist, and I never go to any of his
preachings. I think a service is rare, however, not more than once a week, if that. I
am very sorry that he happens to be of
that persuasion; it is quite a loss to me, and
he does our men no good. But this can only
be laid to the account of privations and losses
12




134    TIIE SERGEANT'S MEMfORIAL.
suffered by the soldier." This chaplain soon
resigned his post.
In minor morals the sergeant maintained
a proper walk amid all the temptations to
laxity which abound in camp life. He made
decency of speech and deportment indispensable to a personal friendship. He did relapse, however, into the use of tobacco; and
in writing jocosely to his father to purchase
him cigars of a certain brand, he says:
"I shall not argue the tobacco question,
because we both agree to a great extent;
but you are not in camp. I will urge nothing
in its favor; simply saying that if smoke one
does, certainly the better the tobacco the
better for the smoker; and nothing extra
can be obtained in Virginia-only poor stuff,
at sutlers' prices."
Not wishing, however, to burden the paternal conscience with complicity in this
indulgence, he insisted that it should be
charged to his private account! Indeed, he
was minutely exact in his personal expenses;
careful to avoid debts or pecuniary obliga



TE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   135
tions to others; prompt and honorable in
meeting his dues for camp extras, and
thoughtful and liberal in remembering the
birth-days and festal-days at home, by remittances from his slender wages. The very
last line he wrote was in acknowledgment
of a box of groceries and a remittance of
postage currency. Learning that all his own
remittances had been deposited in bank to
his credit, he says: "I do not like to use
money of yours. But you have the advantage of me. Only promise that if ever you
are'short,' you will draw on me." He that
is faithful in that which is least, is faithful
also in much.




XIX.
TEE sergeant had a soldier's ambition to
prove his sword. "Our Colonel is a
college graduate, perfect in drill and ability
to teach others. I am in Company A, the
first in rank and material. And although
an entire stranger at first, I think now that
I have many good friends. Though I have
done no fighting, yet is it not share and
share alike to those who fight and those
guarding the stuff?  We may fight yet....
I am quite contented and never for a moment
regret enlisting."
His letters uniformly breathe this spirit
of personal contentment, with a burning zeal
for more vigorous action. He writes to a
(136)




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   137
sister: "I should like to go to some of the
Philharmonics this winter;-but I don't
care, I want to see an end to this war before
I attend to music, or at least to see some
service. At present, our brass band and
drum corps satisfy me."
"The wind, rain and hail last night, did
some damage to our tent, by pulling up tent
pins, etc. The tent nearly came down, and
the wind whistled in and out all night; but
we had a jolly time putting things to rights
and making all secure. We have no stoves
as yet; and during the clear moonlight
nights we should freeze, were it not for our
overcoats and blankets. I was fortunate
in drawing a very heavy blanket worth
two like the old 22d.
" We shall be glad when we are fairly in
our winter quarters and have our stoves.
"But I am enjoying myself and am not
sorry at all that I enlisted. Those who are
at home in warm houses with every luxury,
or even plain comforts, do not know at all
how rough camp life is. Whenever you can
12*




138    THE SERGEA.IVT'S MEMORIAL.
do anything for any part of the army, don't
begrudge it. Don't let the church hold back
lest labor should be wasted.
"But I must not write so, lest you should
think me home-sick, when I am not."
As weeks wore away in camp at New
Creek, he grew more and more impatient
for an active participation in the war; and
like many a private soldier, he seemed to
have a better grasp of the situation than
some commanding generals.
" As to war and politics, I am glad that
little'Rapid'* is so fairly squelched. Give
us leaders that will fight; we want men to
march us on, to Richmond. For the love of
country, don't make our great and noble
army guard railroads. Regiments spoil for
want of work. All our boys want to advance, fight, end the war and return home.
And this is so everywhere. We all need
fighting officers. Within a week this post
has been thoroughly reinforced. Last week
* An army nickname given on the principle Lucws a non  lteendo.




THE SERGEANT'S MEfORIAL.   139
we had but about a 3,500 force, to-day nearly
12,000. These are mainly from Ohio and
Virginia, ours being the only N. Y. S. V.
We have artillery, three batteries; cavalry,
a battalion and two coimrpanies; infantry,
ten regiments, and more coining. Besides
this, a very good fort nearly completed. So
this place is well occupied. You can hardly
imagine the life of so many camps.
"This morning I went as sergeant of the
day, with Capt. P., officer of the day, to visit
the pickets, taking the countersign and variOLus instructions. We rode in four. hours,
including stops, upwards of twenty miles,
which on these roads and by-paths is pretty
good; you would have thought so, had you
seen us gallop; spurs in to the hub and
horses on a dead run wherever the road
would in any way permit. P. is the old one
himself to ride, and I kept close to him: his
horse was used up, and mine lost a shoe before we returned to dinner. For this afternoon we have fourteen miles more to visit
pickets, and then every camp in place must




140    THE SERGEANT'S MEXORIAL.
be inspected. To-night every picket must
be visited again, making -upwards of seventy
miles riding. All this is daily attended to
by some officer in turn.'
This was a sketch of army life addressed
to a classmate at Yale. In a home-letter of
about the same date, he says:
" If any of you thought we had hard times
and made sacrifices last summer, what would
you say now? I have had far harder times
than the hardest in the 22d, and am still
far from the worst. But I expected it, and
can stand more, if we can only do some good;
but this everlasting guarding of the railroad
in a rebel state is a humbug.  Why not
make ours the fighting and the Southern the
guarding army? What is the use of making
this rebel road our base of operations, and
keeping 25,000 men to guard it? Let the
secesh destroy the road, if Maryland can't
defend it. Let our carmy go to Richmond,
let us form a line of operations from East
Tennessee to Port Royal, only 200 miles,
and fight them on both sides. Let the Home




THE SERGEAATT'S MEMORIAL.   141
Guards protect home and railroads. We
are tired of guard-duty.'
This guard-duty, however, was not always
a quiet routine.
" By telegraph from Gen. Kelly we are
under orders to be ready at a moment to
march or fight. All may be mere false
alarms, or we may soon fight here or near
Cumberland. The regiment is'spoiling for
a fight' and will, I think, fight well. Our
men have left their farms and business to
come and put anl end to this war and then
go home to live in peace; and when the time
comes to strike a blow, it will be a'mighty
hard one, as the boys say."
This alarm was succeeded by a brush with
Imboden, in which a part of the 106th were
engaged.
" On Saturday a force consisting of cavalry
and artillery and Mulligan's infantry went
out to attend to some rebels. Fifty-six miles
from camp they found some eight hundred
secesh. These drew up in the valley or pass,
and seemed determined to stand. A few




142    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
shells routed them, but the fight lasted about
four hours. The rebels gave us several volleys and then the shells drove them to the
hills, and as they ran up the mountains our
guns were depressed even till holes were
dug to sink the trails. We killed some forty
or fifty, captured nearly forty-brought in
to Cumberland-and took four hundred hogs
and some cattle, all safely brought in. Our
loss only three wounded."
Such turnouts, he writes, " frighten some,
and excite otlhers, and do good to all. If
we could only have an advance, and put an
end to Stonewall!"
That this was not mere boyish bravado,
is evident from the deliberation with which
he had counted the cost. In a familiar journal to a sister, he incidentally reveals his
forecasting of death:
"There is a funeral just starting from Col.
Mulligan's regiment.  I hear the muffled
drum beating in slow time; poor fellow! it
must be hard to die of sickness in this country. But some must die in camp of fevers,




THE SERG'EANT'S MEMORIAL.   143
etc., some must die fighting, and some will
return home. But then I thought of all this
before I started, and I hope I am willing
and ready for either."
This preparation for death was exemplified in the minutest details of his personal
affairs. On the fly-leaf of his TestameRt,
his memorandum book, and of other knapsack treasures, he had written, " To be returned to 32 W. 36th street, New York"thus anticipating a sudden death by addressing mementoes to his friends, that even a foe
would respect.
It was not his way to repeat himself in
his letters, nor to multiply words upon any
subject. When he had settled his own convictions of duty, he would express them
once for all, and abide by them. And
perhaps the most solemn and weighty determination of his life would be uttered as a
mere "aside," in some famnilar letter or
talk with a friend, dropping from him as a
matter of course. And so it happens that
his most comprehensive and decisive judg



144    THE SERGEAiTTS MEMORIAL.
ment with regard to the war, is found in a
frolicsome letter to a college classmate,
whom he addresses as his "dear Chalk."
Alluding to his three years' enlistment, he
says, "So Chalk, you may give it out as
rather improbable whether I return to College. Remember me to the class, and at
your next Delta Kappa meeting, as one who
thinks it his duty and the duty of every
man to go and fight in this time of need.
And more particularly the duty of such as
you are, who have good habits formed, and
are ready and quick to learn-that intelligence and refinement may prevail in our
army, and that it may not be left to the
scum and scourings of the land to win the
battles and claim the laurels. Every one
of us ought to say in future years,'I used
that gun in'62,'63, —or better, that sword!'
"I know we want education; but where
is the good of education without your country?  And where is your country without
your men to fight and make it?"
A friend to whom this sentiment was sent




THFE SER GEAiNT'S ME1i~ORIAL.    145
as an index of the sergeant's character, thus
responds:,
"My dear and bereaved  friend; That
is a noble passage in the letter of our
youth.  Is he not ours —mine?  Has he not
laid down his life for my country?   I
sympathize most deeply with you, more so,
perhaps, than any other person out of your
immediate family. These things come home
with me.
"There is no other comfort to be offered
to you-and can there be greater comfort?
— than that he died young in a great cause,
and that he died trusting in his God.  It is
in life as it is in science, in art, and in
religion-in moments, actions, sufferings and
speculations of the last importance and
intensest energy, we must always recur to
the first and elementary truths, to the simplest facts.  It is so when we lose our first
born. Of what unspeakable magnitude is
then the truth that we shall see one another
* Though Professor Lieber is a German, no one has done more
than he to vindicate our nationality, and to rally his countrymen
for its defense.
13




146    TEIE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
again, and shall see. one another forever
after a brief space! I know very well that
this does not dry tears-why should they
be dried? but it comforts the soul. Death
has long appeared to me but a mere question, by what train we or our friends go.
We are all going the same way and shall
soon meet again, though one goes by an
early train another by a later one. But
are not all of us standing and waiting at
the station?
"God comfort you.
"Very truly your fellow mourner,
" FRANCIS LIEBER."




xx.
"MAN proposes and Stonewall Jackson
disposes; so who can tell what will happen?" It was thus that the Sergeant announced to a college chum his " change of
base." A hurried line of Dec. 27, announced
"marching orders," and a few days later he
hails from  Martinsburg, in good health,
"well acclimated by a summer and a winter
in Virginia," full of pluck, and eager for
work.
"Yesterday I was on duty at the Provost
guard. We had thirty-six rebel prisoners
to guard, beside the drunken men of tlie
town. These rebels are a smart set, and
require close watching. This morning two
of them got into a fight, and I had to' fall
(147)




148    TtEE,SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
in' to stop them. I thougiht at first there
would be a general fight, in which case
about six of them would have been shot by
my revolver pretty quickly; but I managed
to fling the two apart and to quiet them
down."
The winter wears away at Martinsburg
much as the fall had done at New Creek;
the same routine of duties,-only the picket
service more arduous by reason of distance
and the weather,- the same occasional
alarms, the same eagerness for some decisive
movement.
" There is almost no news at all, nothing
but muddy weather, rain, and thaw. If the
troops at Fredericksburg have such weather,
don't blame them for not advancing. I do
wish that the men by whom the pontoon
trains were delayed might be shot; and
also, that Mr. Lincoln and his Cabinet would
attend to their own business, see that we
are punctually paid, and leave the fighting
-when, how, and where-to our leaders.
How could you in your study, by the advice




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   149
of your deacons, direct the movements of
this regiment? or say to our colonel when,
where, and how he shall drill? It is just as
absurd for Lincoln to dictate to Burnside.
And why is General Butler recalled?
"It is the universal testimony of every
man he-re, every Union man, that at Antietam
the rebels were whipped out, and as they
retreated here, they were disorganized and
expecting to be followed up and cut to
pieces. But McClellan must wait, wait, wait.
In short, we are tired of such warfare."
One solace, however, never failed himhis home correspondence kept up against
every disadvantage.  To his mother who
had praised him for his fidelity, he says:
"Thank you for your compliment in last
evening's letter. I do not know how I deserve it, for I write my letters very rapidly,
in a tent full; —there were nine here when
I commenced this,-(tent, ten feet by ten)
and rarely have time to read them over.
But I like to write, and to write home;
indeed I do but little other writing.
13*




150    THEE SERGEANTV S z'EMORIAL.
"I do not think you need to feel at all
anxious about me, for if I am sick I always
write and can telegraph at any time.
In case of a fight-well, you have an account of our last battle, and our future
fights this winter will probably be the same.
Besides, I came to fight and do any thing in
the love of country line, even to camploafinog."
Almost every day brought its own incidents, sometimes its special lessons of fact or
principle.
"On Friday, I was on picket on the
Winchester road. Two blacks came with
a four-horse wagon, one a young man of
twenty-five years, the other a man of fifty.
They stopped to show their passes, and the
old man jumped out of the wagon to light
his pipe by our fire.
"Are you a free man? I asked.
"'Yes, sir, I paid a thousand dollars for
myself, then I bought my daughter and my
wife.'
"Well that was bully for you-but what




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL..   51
did you want to buy yourself for? didn't
you have a kind master?
"The old man took his pipe from his
mouth and looked at me.
"' No slave ever had a kind master, sir.
You get a little bird and put him in a cage
and feed hiin and take care of him and all
that, but you open the door and away he go;
he know.'
" I told him he was well worth a thousand
dollars. Why is this county excepted in
Lincoln's proclamation?"
In February he begins to feel the severity
of the season-" It is very cold. We pile
on the wood, but with almost no good.
effect, and I'enjoy' a severe cough and cold.
But I shall get over this sometime, I suppose. Snow again this morning-fast and
cold. This is a hard time for pickets,
standing out all day in the snow and storm,
and then all night too, with only an open
fire..... We drilled yesterday for two
hours in snow a foot deep."
These exposures laid the foundation of




152      THE SERGEANT'S [EMORIAL.
his fatal disease; and it is now evident
that during February his health was seriously impaired. Yet so cheerful was the
tone of his letters that not a suspicion of
danger was awakened in the minds of his
friends.
Alluding to the death of young Lieutenant Gray,* he says, "I am  sorry for any
one dying of fever or other camp sickness.
We all regard such deaths as to no purpose, and I am sure many have died in this
regiment when good home care would have
saved their lives easily. But the Government is so slow to give a furlough or discharge, as a precaution for its own interests
against fraud, that often before the leave to
go home arrives, the poor sick soldier is
only waiting for his final home.  I would
not complain, indeed I cannot be too thank* Lieutenant William Gullen Bryant Gray, of my own flock,
a thorough officer, a promising scholar, a devoted Christianwho having passed through the battles and exposures of General Pope's campaign in Virginia, as an officer of General Doubleday's staff, died in a hospital at Washington, of a fever contracted
while directing an engineering corps on the Rappahannock.




TEHE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.    153
ful that we have had so few hardships. I
will reserve all trouble for harder times
than these. Suppose we were ordered to
march to-night, and kept moving for weeks
without a tent to cover us? or' sent on
picket where no fires were allowed? or
forced to work in swamps and woods building bridges and earthworks?  It may all
come, but as yet I have seen but few hardships. However, we are undergoing a steady
toughening process, four hours' drill daily,
and guard duty about every five days."
On the 1st of March, 1863, he wrote to
his mother, "I think I am now on the
straight and narrow road that in this camp
leads to health. After all forms of coughs
and colds, sore lungs, side-ache, face-ache,
tooth-ache, ear-ache, head-ache, neuralgia,
fever, starvation (what's pork and dry bread
to a sick man?) I am still alive and trying
hard to keep so. Two days, Thursday and
Friday, I spent in a hotel, but returned to
camp in perfect disgust, preferring the comforts of a Sibley tent to any bar-room in




154    THE SER GEAANT'S MEMORIAL.
Martinsburg. I only want now my box as
sent for, to'set me up.' The amount of it
all is, that I have had a pretty long sick
spell and now am much better, though cough
and cold still cling to me.
"It is very muddy here, but a strong
wind blows, almost enough to take the tent
over. There has been some trouble below
Winchester, and a fight is somewhat expected. All the people here expect Jackson to return, and I should not be in the
least surprised if he did, some time in the
spring, just to season the 106th."
Five days after, the regiment removed to
North Mountain-" A hard march of ten
miles, in mud and water;-a hard one for
me at least, as I was not fully in strength;
but it did me good, I am sure." This (of
March 7th) was his last letter.
His captain and the surgeon had attempted
to dissuade him from marching; but he insisted that he would go with his men. The
men endeavored to relieve him of his knapsack, but he insisted that a sergeant should




TlME SERGEANT'S MiEMORIAL.   155
set a good example to privateS. "I never
saw," said one of them, " such courage and
energy as the sergeant showed.  We all
thought lie was not equal to the march; but
he would not be relieved. He said that he
must be a soldier, and do all his duty for his
country."
He had just been advised that his promotion to a lieutenancy was determined upon
by the Colonel-" Well," said he to his informant, " if a commission comes to me, of
course I shall not object; but I do not aspire to it."  And to another he remarked,
that " he had enlisted with a determination
to do anything for his country; and he
sometimes felt that he could serve it better as he was, than in some higher office,
with more temptations to consult his own
ease."
On the day after the weary march to
North Mountain, he insisted upon taking
his regular turn on picket duty, and for this
purpose went out several miles from camp.
A snow-storm came up in which he passed




156   TmE' SERGEA1TT'S ME3MORIAL.
the night..The next morning, Monday, he
barely dragged himself back to camp, and
sank down in his tent with severe symptoms
of typhoid pneumonia.  The surgeon was
absent, and there was no hospital.  But
after two days he was removed in an ambulance to a private house, where he lingered
until the night of the following Sabbath.
The kind friends who waited on him
there found him "'so gentle, patient, and
uncomplaining in his spirit, and so delicate
and sensitive in his habits, that it was
almost impossible to render him any service.
And at the same time he was so composed
and resolute, so cheerful and hopeful, that it
was difficult to realize how sick he was."
A pious captain visited him for the sake
of religious conversation, knowing nothing
of him personally. "I soon perceived," he
says, "that I was talking with one who
was no stranger to these things, and found
him entirely at peace with God."
Two of his tent-mates watched over him
with brotherly fidelity, and one of them




TIE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   15 7
reports from written memoranda the closing
scene.
"About 11 P. m. the doctor called to see
him; his breathing was very irregular.
The doctor shook his head, as much as to
say the case was hopeless. It seemed that
the sergeant for the first time fully realized
his danger. He asked the doctor if he
cduld stand under it; the doctor told him
he could not. He then asked if it would not
be well to telegraph to his father. He was
told that the captain had already done so..
He expressed his satisfaction, adding,'I am
so glad; father will be sure to come to-morrow.' He then looked me full in the face andc
grasped my hand and'said (calling my given
and surname), Good-bye. A cold shudder
went through my frame, as it was the first
time I had ever stood face to face with
death.  He still held my hand and said,'Send my love to my dear father and mother,
brothers and sisters. I hope to meet them
in heaven.' He made a few requests concerning his personal effects, then prayed to
14




158    THE SERGEANT'S.EMfORIAL.
God to forgive him his sins. After two or
three short prayers, he asked Tanner to
sing. He sang as well as his voice would
permit, a verse commencing,'Asleep in
Jesus, blessed sleep.'
"When he had  finished, the Sergeant
requested him to repeat it, which he did
with more composure. He then asked some
one to pray —but neither of us had ever
made a prayer; and were silent. He made
the request again, but neither of us could
say a word. He then prayed again himself.
The captain came in soon after and tried to
revive him-but he kept gradually sinking
until about a quarter past one, when he
settled into  a composure or ease, and
breathed more regular but shorter, until his
breath entirely left him at 1.30 A. Mi., March
16th, 1863."
Servant of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ:
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.




THfE SERGEANT'S HiEMORIAL.    159
At midnight came the cry,
" To meet thy God prepare!"
He woke-and caught his Captain's eye;
Then, strong in faith and prayer,
Htis spirit with a bound
Left its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground
A darkened ruin lay.
Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.




XXI.
E "died in camp of fever "-the death he
least desired; and I realized what it was
to " hear the muffled drum beating in slow
time," as I followed him from the chamber
of death to the train that would bear him
homeward. At the station in Baltimore a
soldier inquired whose remains I was guarding. On being told, he exclaimed, " Why
the 106th is my regiment, and I knew Sergeant Thompson, though he was not in my
company. I remember his passing my picket
with that rebel captain. How he put him
through! Yes, Sergeant Thompson; he
was always quiet and gentle; looked as if
he couldn't stand it, he was so slim; never
said much, but always did it."
(160)




TIEE SERGEGANT'S MEMORIAL.    161
Beautiful and  touching  was the tribute
paid  to  the  young  soldier at the funeral
solemnities in the Tabernacle Church: by
comrades in arms from the 22d regiment, by
classmates from Yale College, by the young
men of the church, its officers, and the congregation at large; very precious, comforting, elevating were the utterances, in prayer
and address, of the beloved brethren who
led the thoughts and devotions of the assembly?*   Serene as peace after victory,-the
mournful cost forgotten  in the exceeding
great reward-was the impression of the
closing hymn, the departed soldier smiling,
in the holy calm  of death, with his sword
beside him:Thine armor is divineThy feet with vict'ry shod;
And on thy head shall quickly shine
The diadem of God.
* Rev. W. I. Budington, D. D., of Brooklyn, conducted the devotional service; Rev. R. S. Storrs, D. ID., of Brooklyn, delivered
an address of remarkable richness and force, which will be found
at the close of the volume, as kindly written out from his own
memory, after the loss of a phonographer's report. The musical
14*



16 2     THE SERGEANT'S KM]'MORIAL.
" The flowers were lovely," said one, " the
niusic was tender and  impressive, but the
sight of that worn and faded cap showing
hard  service, touched me more than all; I
broke down at that."
H' is countenance to me," said  another,*
" was full of holy inspiration as it lay so calmly
beneath the flowers and sword of death.  I
remembered  him  as I used to  see him  at
Andover, with  his  noble, gentle  ways.  I
shall always associate his character with the
heavenly ideal of Phil. iv. 8:'Whatsoever
things are true, whatsoever things are honest,
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things
are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there
be any virtue, and if there be any praise,
think on these things.' "
He was laid to rest with kindred dust in,selections consisted of the second movement, Allegretto, from
Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, feelingly rendered upon the or-,gan by Miss McGregor; and the Chorus No. 11, from Mendelssohn's
iSt. Paul, " Oh, happy and blest are they that have endured," sung,with exquisite pathos by the choir. Both organ and pulpit were
Adraped with flags and festooned with flowers.
* Rev. J. M. Holmes, Jersey City.




THE S ERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.    163
Greenwood.  A Christian poet,* who knew
what loves and hopes were buried with him,
has woven this sonnet as a chaplet for his
tomb:
ft brfLtfian n be0Ttr'z Ztt~P
Smile softly, skies! upon the grassy grave;
Angels! about it holy vigils keep;
Where calm reposes, in his dreamless sleep,
The young andmanly, generous and brave:
Deck it, ye flowers that tears of love shall lave;
Let faithful hearts full oft beat quicker there;
A glory not of earth the spot shall wear:
For He, the Lord of Life, that died to save,
Of the still sleeper saith —"'He is not dead!
Whoso believeth, he shall NEVER DIE!"
The mortal resteth here; the immortal-sped
Swifter than wings or fleetest thought can fly
Above yon burning stars-exults to climb
Of Heaven's own life the eternal heights sublime!
* Rev. Ray Palmer, D. D., of Albany.




XXII.
IT was with a melancholy and yet a positive pleasure that I revisited, in May, the
encampment of the One Hundred and Sixth
at North Mountain. The regiment had received the "seasoning" for which the Sergeant had so often longed. They were just
in from a hard fight at Philippi and Fairmount, having saved Grafton by a forced
night march. It makes one feel the war, to
go into a camp where all seem as sons or
brothers, and hear the story of a ten days'
campaign without tents or knapsacks-not a
man had slept under a shelter, or changed
his clothing —and, in the course of which,
one circuit of near forty miles was made in
two days, varied with four hours' hard fight(164)




TtEE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   165
ing. Some are left behind in rude but honored graves; some are lying wounded in the
hospital; some are prisoners: but these
worn, soiled, weary men are ready to go any
whither, to meet again the enemy they have
routed, and will fight on still for mny liberty,
my government, my country. It is a small
thing one can do to thank them, to cheer
them, to send them little bome-comforts, to
pray for them, to stand by them and the
good cause.
How grateful it was to gather up all the
pleasant memories of the departed, that
lingered in the camp and clustered especially
about tent No. 4. Indeed, it was not necessary to "gather" these, for they came in
upon every breath, as freshly as if he had
just been taken from his comrades.
" Our tent seems very lonely and sad: the
Sergeant was always so cheerful and lively,
we can't get used to being without him."
" Ie nursed me when I was sick; gave me
his own bunk, and tended nme like a brother.
I would have done anything for him."




166    THE SERGEAlVT'S XEM[ORIAL.
"My place to lie in the tent was next the
Sergeant; and, for many a night after he
was gone, the sight of something that was
his would make me feel so bad that I
couldn't sleep. I had to get up, and go out
and walk, for I couldn't bear to feel that he
was gone. He was such a friend to us
all."
" Everything in the tent reminds us of the
Sergeant, and we try to keep things just as
he placed them. Every one of us has some
little memento of him. Mine is a picture
that he used to value. I have sent it home
to my brother, to be framed and hung up in
the parlor. If I go back, I shall have it to
remember the Sergeant as long as I live;
and, if I don't get back, my brother will
have it to remember us both by."
Ah! war is not wholly a school of the
rougher passions. How much that is gentlest, purest, holiest in our nature is brought
into consciousness by being brought into
requisition, in the camp, the field, and the
hospital.




TEE SER GEANiT'S XEMORIAL.   167
Going again to Harper's Ferry, the scene
of so many tragic changes, I was profoundly impressed with the desolating progress of the war.
The little engine house where John
Brown extemporized his fort, looks no more
formidable than when the brave captain
was led out of it a prisoner. But the massive batteries frowning from every heightmultiplied fourfold since Antietam,-mark
the present guage of the war, that the blind
impulse or the prophetic insight (I never
could determine which) of one bold friend
of the oppressed, here opened against the
gigantic despotism of the South. Following
his lead, as the condemned hero stooped to
kiss a slave-child as he mounted the scaffold,
so grim-visaged War here folds to its protection the emancipated bondmen of the
valley. Not a slave remains, it is said, in
all that county; few in all the region of
the Shenandoah. And so tile great sacrifices
have their compensation. But nevertheless
they are great sacrifices.  One can measure




168    TIlE SERGEA NT'S MEMORIAL.
them better by contrasts, at intervals, on
such a spot as the Ferry, where the fury of
the conflict has been so often concentrated.
There has been sad work hereabouts since
last July. The desolation has been made
three-folcl more desolate, in the destruction
of houses, fences, groves, and by the neglect
of planting ancl sowing in the once fertile
-valley.  Bolivar HIeights and Maryland
HTeights are now both stripped of trees; and
many a brown, dingy acre marks the site of
a deserted camp. Saddest of all, here on
this lovely slope where last summer I saw
my regiment drill, I can count upwards of
three hundred graves of soldiers, side by
side, in unt-irfed rows, each with its rude
wooden head-board with a number and a
name. As I stoop to read, I have a tear
for every, one.  Each grave represents
wounded hearts far away, that have not had
even the sad satisfaction of beholding the
faces of their dead; —yet we cannot pause
for private griefs in this great agony of the
nation. Let who will die, if the nation




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   169
lives. Let who will go mourning in the
future, if from this dark and dreary night
FREEDOM shall rise with new brightness and
joy. And therefore I stand amid this camp
of graves, and this appalling desolation,
praising God that heroism is not dead, that
virtue is not dead, that freedom is not dead,
that my country is not dead; I bless God for
every one of these who has given his life for
the noblest cause of this or of any age; I
adopt these stranger names as household
treasures; and to parents, brothers, sisters,
who gave up these and such as these, I
would fain send out the All-hail of that
grand Future which they have sown in tears
and blood.
15




XXIII.
"A  MAN that is in bitterness for his firstborn" is a type of human grief that
the pen of inspiration has characterized as
calling for Divine pity. It were unjust to
our own nature to attempt to suppress its
strongest outgoings of affection; it were
ungrateful to God' not to confess our grief
when he withdraws his most precious and
most generous gifts. What such a gift is,
they who have measured it from every point
can yet hardly describe.
"' I mourn and rejoice with youn, says one,*
"in the desolation of a large arena of earthly
hope, in the assurance that not the grave
but the bosom of Eternal Love has received
* ev. A. P. Peabody, D. D., Professor in Harvard University.
(170)




THE SE~RGEANT'S MEMORiIAL.   171
your child. I know-though the removal
was in infancy-what unutterable disappointment there is in the death of a firstborn son. The two or three years for which
mine was with me, form a part of my lifein its hopefulness, in its varied plans, in the
commenced realization of some of them for
the benefit of one in whom I was anticipating a posthumous earthly existence,-entirely unlike the time before and since; and
I can well understand and deeply feel,
how all this must have been intensified in
the twenty years of rich and beautiful promise for which your son was left in your
charge.  God grant that we may both be
rendered, by such experience, the more meet
to renew our intercourse with the departed
in the Church of the first-born."
Another friend thus pictures the frustration of plans and hopes through such a loss:*
"There must be a thousand plans frustrated, some of which lay distinct in your
* Rev. E. A. Park, D. D., Professor in Andover Theological
Seminary.




1 72   THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
own mind, but the greater part of which had
not been brought out into your own distinct
consciousness; yet all of which had more or
less secretly influenced your life, and cheered
you amid your many toils. How many
visions a father has of his own plans outreaching his own life, and given over to his
son, to be carried out long after the father
has been in the land of silence! And how
well fitted a son is to finish what his father
has begun! What a blessing Charles Francis Adams is to the world, in preserving so
many memories of his father and grandfather, and giving to his country a better
view of its true mission than could be given
by any man who had not access to the private papers of the two Adamses! And I do
not doubt that you have had, and will have
a hundred projects which your son might
have carried forward better than any other
man could have carried forward.
" But why dwell on such disappointments?
I do not know why. It is well for a man to
feel his whole trouble. No one but yourself




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   173
can possibly know how heavy your loss is;
but the heavier it is, so much the dearer is the
thought that God understandeth all things,
and He has made a greater gain than you
have suffered loss. And if the Lord is the
gainer, then may his children well afford to
be losers; for their loss is but for a moment,
and is soon swallowed up in His gain, which
is infinite."
One to whom I, in common with the whole
Church of Christ, owe grateful honors for
the Christian and heroic training of his firstborn, and tearful thanks for his record of
"the Child of Prayer," gives this kindred
sympathy:
" I condole with you with the utmost sincerity, non ignarus mali.
"The Lord was gracious to you in the
character of your son. And his departure,
though painful in many of its attendants,
was not without compensating facts of pensive and mellowing interest. To stand thus
rooted in the vineyard and witness our
branches cut off, one by one, —while our
15*




1 4    THE SERGEANT'S  EXfORBIAL.
tears overflow, as the violated current. of
tender living  sympathy between us and
them,-can never be without distress.  For
myself such facts have made a living sorrow.
But not long hence, the tree will also be
removed-and we must live in anticipation
and desire of that day. Bright and glorious
it will be for those who love Jesus, I would
fain hope even for me. I pray that our
beloved Saviour may prosper your ministry
and your household,-and make his purposes
ever your delight."*
And closer yet, in the appreciation of
certain aspects of such a loss, comes an honored guide of youth who first gave his son
to die for the country, and then has caused
him to live again a thousand fold in the
story of his consecrated example:t
" How naturally and how deeply I sympathize with you, I need not say. We are
brothers in this great affliction, as we seem
* Rev. S. H. Tyng, D. D.
t Rev. W. A. Stearns, D.ID., President of Amherst College,
whose touching memoir of his son, Adjutant Stearns, should be
in every household in the land.




TEE SERGEANT'S MfEMORIAL.   175
to be in the consolations which attend it.
How much, my dear sir, there is. to comfort
us. Short but honorable were the lives of
our precious boys. They have left a noble
record, written in the nation's history on
the hearts of their countrymen. They have
gloriously'fulfilled their course.'  They
have left hallowed memories for our sanctification, and the good of all who may hear
of them. It is decided, and decided once
for all, their lives were not failures. In
Heaven before us-how pleasant when our
turn comes, to think of going to meet them.
We have been their teachers on earth, they
will be our teachers in Heaven. We have
helped them from our studies and experience to know the true God and Jesus Christ
here; they will help us by their higher spiritual wisdom and soul-ravishing happiness,
to know them unspeakably better hereafter.
"These afflictions though they bow us
down, I really think are tokens of an Infinite Love that sent them. Will they not
enlarge our experience and enrich our lives?




176    TIE SERGEANT'S MEMORIALo
I think they will. A great sacrifice this,
which we are called to make for our country. But oh! if the God of our fathers
will only come and break the yokes of all the
bondmen and remove the awful curse which
is upon us, and save the nation, I shall say,
twe shall say, Amen, though the grave-clothes
of our sons are winding-sheets of blood."




XXIV.
E take up again that AMEN. The cause
is worth the sacrifice; - worth infinitely more than any individual can do or
suffer in its behalf.
" I do not undertake to say a word that
shall look like condolence, or that shall
have the aspect of grieving with you, or for
you, for the death which is thus announced;
for if I did, I am sure the language of your
heart would be that of another under somewhat similar circumstances,'I would not
exchange the memory of my dead son for
the possession of any living one that I
know of.'
"How full, to the end of your life, of all
that is grand, grateful, elevating and en(177)




1'78   TIEE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
nobling, will be thoughts and reminiscences
with which you and your family will dwell
upon the memory of what he was. No dark
spot in his life, no blight or blot on his
record, but all that a parent's heart could
wish, he died with a heart full of generous
sympathies, great aspirations for good, surrendering his life to' the noblest of causes,
before experience had taught him aught of
the hollowness of earthly honor or the ingratitude of man.
"My friend, instead of condoling with
you on your loss, I congratulate you from
myy heart on the priceless legacy which your
son was able to leave you: on the high
satisfaction, nay, on the honest pride, with
which you must always dwell on the memory
of such a son. And when this cruel war
shall be over, when a merciful God shall
restore our waste places, rebuild the temple
of our liberties, and our people renovated
and purified by that dreadful baptism of
blood and fire, through which we are now
passing, shall send to Heaven the grateful




THE SERGEANT'S  EM ORIAL.    179
thanksgiving of a regenerated nation, you
shall feel an honest and an exultant pride
in remembering how costly was the sacrifice
you were called upon to make in procuring
so great a boon.'. And when life's fitful scene draws to a
close, I trust it will be among the most consolatory thoughts of a death-bed, that you are
about to enter on a life, where not the least
of its joys will be, that you are to join the
Patriot and Christian son, whom you now
mourn, never to be separated."*
Thus it was given to this soldier-boy by
his death to strike anew  the chord of
Christian patriotism in many hearts, and to
call forth utterances of lofty faith and heroism, for the times through which we are
passing.
"Your account of that noble son," writes
a consecrated leader in the cause of liberty,
"fills me with emotion and inexpressible
sympathy. But the thought of such a life,
and such a death must be sweet to you* Hon. John P. Hale, U. S. Senate.




180    THE SERGEANT'7S:EALORdAL.
such an example will be a possession always.',
One who had known something of his
development since he first met him in London as a playful child, thus testifies:
"From what I saw of your beloved son
when we were travelers in Europe, I was
deeply impressed with the integrity,. the
strength and the manliness of his character.
And when this wicked and terrible rebellion
broke out, I was not at all surprised to find
that le promptly offered himself for the
defence of our suffering country.
" It is an abiding conviction with me, that
great truths and principles are, for the most
part, established by great sacrifices.  And
when such sacrifices as your noble son are freely laid upon the country's altar, I cannot doubt
that the reward will be found in the freedom, justice, and prosperity of the future." t
That is the exceeding great reward before all who labor and suffer for their coun* Hon. Charles Sumner, U. S. Senate.
t Rev. T. C. Upham, D. D., Professor in Bowdoin College.




THE SERGEAiNTS HEMORIAL.    181
try in these times; and no prayer has seemed to me more comforting than this from
one whose name is largely identified with
our grand uprising of patriotism.  " May
God comfort you, and yours, most graciously.  And, above all, may He be pleased to
give us, in this terrible struggle, our money's
worth, and our blood's worth, in freedom
and righteousness.".
That this blessed fruit will come, no heart
that rightly believes in God's government
of justice over this world, can permit itself
to doubt.  The very cost of the purchase is
an earnest of the fulfillment.  For, as writes
a sagacious observer, " it is not the will of
God that this rebellion  should be overthrown, and with it the curse of slavery,
without an enormous expenditure of precious.blood as well as of treasure.  But my faith
is firm that the expense is well laid out, and
will bring to our children a harvest an hundredfold."t
* Rev. R. D. Hitchcock, D. D., Professor in Union TheoIogical
Seminary,
t Rev. E. P. Barrows, D, D., Prof. in Andover Theo. Sem,
16




182    TIl'E SERG EANT'S MEM ORIALo
One whose faith rises almost to prescience,
so grandly forecasts that harvest of good,
that his prophecy evoked by a brief outline
of the sergeant's career, seems like a resurrection of the- dead.
" I have been much interested in this
sketch of the life and death of your first
born, a life in its morning promise and beauty, nobly laid on the altar of God and his
country, and destined to bloom, yea, I am
confident, already blooming in climes beyond the sun, and in a glory which shall not
fade when fades the sun. A life, brief alas,
to friends who loved and mourn, but yet in
its true aspect as seen from the heights of
the true universe, most rich, complete, and
successful. For a life so pure, heroic, loving-inspired and ennobled by piety and
patriotism and true to God and truth, even
unto death-may be surely so denominated,
however brief! A life baptized of God's
spirit, devoted to a noble cause, surrendered
at the behest of Right and Duty, and ending,
short as was its limit, in the city of our God.




T7HE1 SERGEALNT'S -MEMORIAL.   183
How much could earth or years add to a
life like this?  In our delusive time-ward
and earth-ward vision, our mortal tears fall
over such a career, so ending, as over something beautiful, but blighted untimely before
fruitage. But the sons of God on the heights
of the everlasting will hail it as a victory, a
triumph, a glory. Of such it shall be written, these are they which loved not their
lives even unto death, therefore do they stand
before God, and serve him day and night in
his temple.
" When I contemplate cases like that of
your son, and think how many of the noblest
and most gifted, the choicest and best of the
land have fallen in the cause of the country,
I am tempted to wonder, if not to murmur,
and to ask why must such die? Why not
be spared to the church, the country, and
humanity? But it has been the law of noble causes ever in our world that they require the baptism of blood and tears-the
best of the best. This is their lustration and
conservation; their seal and signature in




184    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
history and to humanity. Our cause comes
under this law, and alas! it needs great
atonement.
" I know, my dear brother, that considerations like these cannot staunch your tears
or beguile your heart of its bitterness for
the loss of your first-born. Nature claims
your tears and God pities them, and they
all fall in his sight. From our mortal standpoint the grave is the goal, the limit of the
way. To the eye of sense the tomb-stone
hides for the bitter hour the shining city
which Faith sees in glory beyond. And
well I know that not all the eulogy and acclaim of loving and admiring friends-yea,
not even the joy of national victory and jubilee can beguile the heart of its longing for
the loved form that shall never wake till the
resurrection morning. Long will the heart
ask for the first-born —the form that first
called you father; the darling of your early
married life, endeared by the memory of
those beautiful years. Long will it ask for
the companion of your travel and your study;




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   185
the manly associate of your manly thought
and counsels and commune. It will ask until you shall lie down in the dust beside him,
and the grave shall open for you the way to.
the Eternal Reunion-a walk together under
the shadow of that tree whose leaves, shall
heal all the woundings of our mortal life.
"But meantime there shall be comfort, at
times, in thinking of the preciousness of what
you have lost, and the cause and manner in
which it has been lost, as well as of the certainty of its glorious restoration. And for
that you' have buried with him no small part
of your life,' that which remains shall be
richer, holier, happier ever-such is God's
fullness-for this very loss: and shall partake on earth of something of the angel-boy
that has gone before you to the skies. Affliction shall grow to glory, sorrow to a
sweetness past all joy. For in the cloud and
dark, the Lord himself shall descend and
walk with the smitten one, and touch the
earthly love of father and son with the
sweetness and beauty, the holiness and the
16*




186    TIlE SEWRGEKAI T'S giEMORIAL.
awe of the Divine and Eternal.  That God
may bring you this blessedness from your
bitter grief, and by the gift of Himself infinitely compensate to you all earthly loss, is
the prayer of one in earnest and loving sympathy."Y*
* Rev. T. M. Post, D. D., St. Louis, Missouri.




xxvY
-4 DULCE et decorum est pro patria nmor'.
And for a Christian, I have often
thought there might be some special sweetness —if not, indeed, some unusual bestowments of grace in dying, and some unwonted
cordiality of welcome after-in being permitted, in so close an imitation of the Saviour,
to lay down one's life for others. I cannot
help thinking that Jesus is very near to his
little ones when they die for their native
land; and- especially when they make the
great sacrifice with so much of intelligent
comprehension of all the issues involved, as
your dear son evidently had grace to do.
"I congratulate you, my dear brother
that you have been found worthy of this
(187)




188    THE SE]GE.Y4117:S MIHgORIAL.E
honor from the Lord: and I pray that you may
le made perfect through the suffering which
this honor brings. And may the blood of
your young martyr-with that of the great
multitude who shared his trial and share his
immortality-be the seed of good things,
and great things, and glorious things, for
this land, and for Christ's church and for
God's world;-things good and great and
glorious enough to pay for the lost seed;
and that —though it lie buried long in the
dust!Y" 
"' Such noble examples sanctify our cause,
and the griefs that accompany them purify
our hearts for a deeper and more effective
service in our Master's work. Your great
loss has been a great gain to many others."t
"For all that displayed courage, persistence in the way of duty, high principle, just
sentiments and manly bearing, you have reason, great reason to cherish his memory and
bless God for having given you such a son.
* Rev. H. M. Dexter, Boston.
I Rev H. EW. Bellows, D. D., New York,




THIE SERGEAN~T'S MEMORIAL.    189
Nor, while you mourn, can you regret, that
since he must die, he died in such a cause.
Yet the true consolation to your spirit is,
that to all his high manly qualities he added
the faith and the graces of a Christian; that
his last hours were so sustained by divine
hope; and that you are permitted to indulge
the undisturbed confidence that death has
been gain!"%
" Nobly has your first-born met life's claims
and filled up the measure of duty assigned
him; traversed his circuit without a misstep, and now has gone to his reward. There
let him rest. The separation will be short
at the longest. His life and death will
preach many a sermon to the living. I very
much doubt whether the brave young Stearns
would have done more for the world, had he
lived twice as long, than he has done, is
doing, and will do for how long a time none
can tell!"t
"I do congratulate you that you had a son
Rev. Thomas E. Vermilye, D. D., New York.
t Rev. Isaac P. Langworthy, Secretary of the American Congregational Union,




190    TILE SRGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
to offer and be offered, for his country's life 
and, by all the traits which endear him to
your memory, and by all the hopes which he
relinquished, is the offering enhanced. He
lived longer than his father has lived-compressing into his brief career of youthful
patriotism and honor more of heroic achievement than is possible in the longest life, to
any of us who, in the providence of God, are
exempted from active service in the field on
which are staked the issues of liberty and
humanity, and the destiny of our dear native
land. And when to the thought that he
rests in a soldier's grave, numbered forever
with the brave and faithful defenders of our
country, is added the reflection that he
sleeps in Jesus, awaiting with kindred and
sainted dust an associated rising on the
morning of the resurrection, I cannot but feel,
my brother, that God has highly blessed you
in your first-born." *
"You have all the comfort you could ask
for in such a sacrifice as you have made.
t Rov. Samuel Wolcott, Cleveland, 0.




TtIE SERGEANT'S MEHORIAL.    191
And is it not of some worth, to be one of
the'exceeding great multitude' who have
been counted worthy to make the sacrifice
in this crisis?  They seem to me a choice
and bright assembly, if they have grace to
bear the baptism they are baptized with."*
"I knew John," says a kinsman, " only as
a lad of promise, and have seen him but
little, but I deeply sympathize with you. It
is the first time that this war has brought
its melancholy side so heavily home to us.
I will not attempt consolation; you undoubtedly have it far better than I could give.
I can only say that had I a son of my own,
I should not have withheld him from the
great cause in which we are engaged; and
if death had claimed him on the field, or in
the ranks, it would have been some comfort
in sorrow to feel that he died in defence of
a principle more important than any previous
contest in the world'shistory has involved."t
* Rev. Austin Phelps, D. D., Professor in Andover Theological
Seminary.
t Dr. John K. Bartlett, Milwaukio, Wis.




.192'II SER GEA AT'S 1EJ ORIAL.
An honored divine who made the boy hlis
pet in travels on the Rhone, and in sightseeing at Paris, writes'
"Ah! that dear noble boy; how can I
feel grateful enough to God for having
given you such a son. His bosom  filled
-with noble sentiment,'the soul of honor,
truthfulness, courage, generosity, and yet
undemonstrative, showing all based on principle; and above all to have that.character
sanctified by the ever Blessed Spirit, the
splendid temple laid in ruins by the first
Adam, restored to much of its beauty by
the second Adam, —of all this to have been
made the recipient —what more can  a
father's heart ask?"*
The head of a college that has nurtured,
Christian patriotism, and of a household in
which the Sergeant's name was often spoken
by those who had both known and loved
him, writes:
"The event so full of sadness, has also
another aspect of beauty and grandeur. It
* Rev. J. H. Price, D. D., Rector of St. Stephen's, New York,




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   193
is a blessed thing to have had such a son.
Very beautiful was the unfolding of Christian grace as he advanced in years and
grew up to the stature of a man. Very
precious are the memories of that brief life
— almost unmarred it seems by any outbreak of waywardness, and the death which
terminates that life is made grand by the
self-devotion which in the coincidence of
his own choice and God's appointment
determined its time and place and manner.
We could wish that it might have been
prolonged, but the voice of God and of our
common humanity declares it a noble life
well ended, —no, not ended, but gloriously
begun, through God's grace making death
but the translation of the soul to the true
sphere of its life. There with the welcome'Well done, good and faithful servant,' he
has already been ushered into the joys of his
Lord and charged with more important
trusts in His service.
"Then, too, as the event tests the sincerity
and entireness of his sacrifice and yours, to
17




194     THE SERGEANT'S MEAORIEAL.
the cause of truth and humanity, so you may
rightly interpret it as setting the seal of
God's acceptance to the sacrifice.  And
what more could you desire? what more
could years of successful service bring? All
was given —all is accepted-and in the end
it will appear that God has made the utmost
that he could of the child, the man so consecrated.'Except a corn of wheat fall into
the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if
it die, it bringeth forth much fruit,' applies
to the disciple as well as to the Master.
Your son has not thrown himself away.
His life has not been spent in vain. Through
its sacrifice in the cause of righteousness, it
swells the measure of that suffering identified with Christ's suffering,  which is at the
same time the purchase, price and the element of power for securing the world's
redemption from all evil. From the little
seed thus sown, precious fruit will be growing,
and ripening through the ensuing ages." *
* Rev. A. L. Chapin. D. D., President of Beloit College, Wisconsin.




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORiIAL.   195
This is the view that sanctifies and elevates our conflict; that invests our personal experiences of sorrow in this cause
with something of that majestic import that
pertains to  the highest Christian  sacri-'fice.
One who has devoted a life of self-sacrifice
to laying the foundations of Christian institutions in Illinois, while looking back from
the shadow of Oxford upon his western
home, sends his estimate of the worth of our
country, in these stirring words:
"I assure you that, looked back upon
from England, my country seems infinitely
precious. I do not know, for I have not yet
been put to the trial, whether I have selfsacrifice enough to give my life, or give my
son for any good cause; but I am sure if 1
could make such a sacrifice for any thing, it
would be for such a country as ours, in this
hour of her calamity and danger. I see
much to admire and love in England, but I
never before saw so clearly what God has
done for our country. With a full heart I




196    THE SERG.EANT'S MlEMORIAL.
thank the Lord that he sent my ancestors to
America, six generations ago. I accept it,
war and all, with all the uncertainties of the
future.
"If by these terrible sacrifices our country is to be saved for a happy future of
freedom and peace, then how you will rejoice that your noble son died not in vain;
that by a death so early, and so honorable,
he has done more for human well-being,
than he could have done by the longest and
most useful life." *
But the Gospel which inspirits our patriotism, imparts to these sacrifices a higher
value, while it attends them with a richer
consolation.
" I mourn with you, my dear brother, in
your great sorrow to which you allude in a
single line of your letter. May God help
you to bear it, remembering Him who'so
loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son' for its sake. We are learning
in this great strife ho~w to understand God,
~ Rev. J. M. Sturtevant, D. D., President of Illinois College.




THE SERGEANrTT'S MEMORIAL.   19 7
and how to sympathize with him both in his
justice and his mercy, in his wrath and
his love. The cup of Gethsemane is put
into our hands, the agony of Calvary is before us; but it is for the work of Redenlption; without such dying of the just for the
unjust there can be no remission.
"I know how the grave of that soldierboy will seal your patriotism, and bring into
it all the sacredness of your religion itself;
how it will make it more impossible than it
was before even, that you should ever cease
to preach and to pray, to labor and to fight,
if need be, until this bloody Moloch, which
is devouring ten thousands of our sons, is
hurled from his throne and driven from the
land.
"My dear brother, may God mark your
sacrifice in his book. May he give it its
full place in that great and terrible ransom
by which our deliverance is to be bought,
and may you live to see the day when you
can stand over that green grave and say,
under the new light which shall then shine
17*




198     THE,SERGEANT'S [EMIORIA.L.
down from  Heaven, the glory is greater
than the gloom, the reward is greater than
the sacrifice; I bless God that I had one
life to give for my country." *
* Rev. Leonard Swain, D. D., Providence, R. I.




XXVI.
BEAUTIFUL is the light of Christian
faith and hope, when the evening of a
long and useful life blends itself with the
dawning of the life everlasting. This mellowed light of age, kindling anew with the
advancing glow of immortality, turns its radiance back upon the grave of the young
Christian soldier.  The veterans of the
school and the church pay their tribute to
his'faith and patriotism.
"Memorable is the record of the virtues,
the heroic and high-principled patriotism,
the noble spirit of self-sacrifice and religious devotion to the calls of duty, which
impelled this brave and much-loved youth
to encounter the toils, the fatigue, the privations and the dangers of war.
(199)




200    THE S'iERGEIANT'S IEMORIAL.
"In several visits with our friends at
Cambridgeport, we were much interested in
the unfolding character of your son, rich in
promise and hope, but little did we dream
that the cheering prospects of youth were
to be eclipsed by the funeral-pall, even in
the earliest years of opening manhood.
"It will not be long before the precious
souls of our dear departed ones, who have
been redeemed by our divine Saviour, will
welcome their pious friends on their arrival
in heaven; and then, all the sorrows of this
life will be remembered only as a part of
Christian education for a better world.*
Another, whose name has been identified
with the religious progress of the country,
almost as long as that of Silliman with its
progress in science, writes:
" Your account of the death of your dear
son has just now reached me, ifi the midst
of the storm, this last day of March.  So
there are last days of all months and years
and centuries and of all the lives of men,
* Prof. B. Silliman, LL. D., Yale College.




THE SERGEANT'S IfEMORIAL.   201
excepting the life eternal, which is hid with
Christ in God. To that no last day shall
ever come. Begun in the life below, its
temporiary associations shall be changed, and
its earthly ties severed, but it will not, cannot have an end. And the last days, on
earth of those who inherit the life eternal
through grace, are points of unutterable
interest, to be remembered by all survivors,
-sad, as " the last of earth," and still more
sad when they terminate the lives of young
persons nobly aspiring to goodness and usefulness, and the hopes and tender wishes of
loving families are blasted in the bud. But
joyful are these same last days, as seals, by
the hand of God, of testimonies given, examples completed, and victories achieved;
more joyful still, as the first days of emancipation, the points of departure from sin and
sorrow, upward and onward forever.
" You have seen and recorded the last day,
and the last words of that dear son. You
feel the loss of what he was, and of what
he might have been to you and yours, and




202    THE SERGE AN T'S HMEiORI L.
surely you are in'bitterness.' But, my
brother, happy is the parent who has such a
record to make, of a son so noble in his aspirations, and so accordant, heart to heart, with
himself. To have had the possession and
the training of such an offspring for such an
end, above all the sorrows of its loss, is a
joy forever." *
* Rev. Absalom Peters, D. D.




XXVIIo
THEY who know what war is, know how
to appreciate the death of the soldier in
its relations to himself, to his friends, to his
country.
" The Conyregationalist of the 27th ult.
brings to me thle first intimation I have had
that you are a personal sufferer by this war,
in your own beloved family. I can't help
writing you just a word to speak of my
sympathy with you, and to record myself
among the many, many friends whose eye
will moisten at your grief as if it were their
own.
" Familiarity with death on the battle-field
and in the hospital has not made me less
sensitive to the trying circumstances which
(203)




204    TIE SERGEANT'S fEMORIAL.
attend such a death, but more so.  And
with a full knowledge of such bereavements
as we see them in the army, though without
any particular acquaintance with the facts
in this case, I heartily offer you my fraternal feeling, and pray my God to sustain and
comfort you.
"You are blessed, my brother, and favored of heaven in giving up your well-beloved
son to die for the nation, for the age, rather,
and those twenty years and six months of
earthly life, with such a termination, and
leaving behind so fragrant a memorial, are
worth more than any four-score years of ordinary existence. How fast we live now!
This may be the time the prophet had in
view in which'the child should die an
hundred years old.' May our blessed Sa.
viour'be with you in this sorrow, and by it
touch your lips with a more tender and persuasive eloquence as you plead for the bondman whose dungeon door is just beginning
to open. You can hold nothing too dear,
not even your own life, to give for the coun



THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.    205
try, for liberty, for Christian civilization,
for God." *
And another voice frlom  the field exclaims:
"How greatly has God afflicted you, and
how  greatly honored you!  Happy they
who can give so richly for the sacred cause
of country and humanity.  He too, your
dear boy, is a part of the great cost at which
the nation is to be redeemed.  That is your
precious, precious  contribution  to  God's
work in this land.  By-and-by, we shall
reckon up these priceless offerings. We
shall recall and record these young heroic
martyred names.  One such sacrifice —in
such a day —the whole consummate lifot
thrown in at a single gift-there is no protracted service of late and many years that
can peer it.  How complete such a life and
story.  Nothing fragmentary and broken
off here.  White hairs and fourscore winters could not have so rounded and filled
* Rev. Horace James, Chaplain of the- 21thiMass., and now Superintendent-of the Freedmen in Noith;Catroinua.




206   STiE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
out the earthly work.  That young hand
touched the crown and goal in life's morning. As truly as Paul the aged, could those
boyish lips say,'I have finished my course.'
The nation will come presently and lay
down the gratitude of its millions at such feet
as yours-feet that walk more lonely from
henceforth-and yet shall walk on the high
places of a nation's honor and guerdon.
" God bless you, and comfort you, and reward you.  I have my own first-born son
with me in the 45th, our Colonel's mounted
orderly.  He has ridden safely thus far
through all dangers. But I have given him
to God and his country. He has, I believe,
so given himself. I can feel something of
what it would be to miss him from my side
and from my home, henceforth-but he is
God's - my offering is without reserve.
These are days when life wins its ends
early." *
* Rev. A. L. Stone, D. D.,,of Boston, now Chaplain of the 45th
Mass.




XXVIII.
oNE who had some interest in the Sergeant when a school-boy at Cambridge,
in speaking of "his noble and consecrated
character," goes on to say, " the thought of
the cause for which he died must do much
to bear up a father's mourning heart. Sometimes I think of those who mourn as you
mourn, and who make such sacrifices as you
have made, as the privileged men of the land.
But such sacrifices are very, very costly."'
And my dear Oxford friend, the truest
friend of America in England,* himself lying
on the verge of death, shrinks back from the
* Mr. Joseph Warne, Postmaster at Oxford, whose personal
influence and whose pen have widely and intelligently aided our
causeo
(207)




i) 0 8    THIE,'E GEANFirS ZEMIEMOiL,4L.
demands of our cause, when told that the
boy he loved almost as his own had become
a sacrifice. " How vivid to me the young
student, the volunteer, the resolved wholewar volunteer, the brave and courteous custodian of the prisoner; —and your own free
arid forecasting surrender, and your comfort
and hope, in that he assured you all was
right Christ-ward. The dear Johnny of my
heart, so real; so loved of my wife-you
hardly know how much she loved Joimly...... Ah, the enormous cost of this contest,
not in money only but in the best life of the
country, quite dismays me. Your men are
too good for their work!"
And yet he feels also that the CAUSE dignifies and elevates the sorrow and sanctifies
the loss. Rather would I rise to the tone
of him who having three living sons in the
service of the war, writes:
"Often since this great struggle began for
our country, and for liberty and righteousness, the regret has risen in my mind that
my eldest son, who died fifteen years ago




THE SER GLATiT'S MEMORIAL.   209
when he had just entered on his twenty-first
year, could not have had the privilege of
making the great sacrifice which so many
are now making in the cause of our country,
and of the world."
And such is the inspiration of Christian
patriotism in every heart that measures the
moral grandeur of our national struggle.
" As I came down from the pulpit yesterday," writes Rev. L. Pilatte,* "a friend
handed me a newspaper addressed in your
familiar hand. I opened it eagerly for news,
when my eye rested on the sad announcement;-your John, our dear Johnny was no
more!
" The news was a blow to myself and my
wife as if one of our sons had been struck.
We remembered the lovely boy who had so
endeared himself to us during his stay under
our roof; we felt for you and with you.
Sadness sat at our table that day, when we
spoke of him and of you. Yet when I looked
upon my three boys and asked myself how I
* Nice, France.




210 Tl  I SERGE-ANT'S MEMORIAL.
would have felt if one of them had. fallen in
so noble a cause, I could not help thinking
that I would deem it an honor to have contributed a son to its triumph. Of such sacrifices God makes the glory of his cause, and
the redemption of a people.  But when
they multiply, when they come so near us,
we cannot help exclaiming, how long will
that dreadful conflict last? Not that I
would have it stopped on any account before
the rebellion is crushed and slavery with it;
but I watch with an anxious eye the slowness of the North's movements, and I tremble lest the people faint before the impious
power of the rebellion is annihilated.  God
be with you and your armies! I have never
yet doubted even in the darkest hour the
ultimate success of the right among you.
Your bloody struggle, so long, so fearful,
will prove your salvation, and the initiation
4of America into an era of undreamed after:greatness.
One who himself has known more than
thirty years of hardship, toil, sacrifice,




TWIE SERGEANT'S YEM!ORIAL.   211
danger for the cause of Christ in a foreign
land,-and whose son was the Sergeant's
most intimate friend,-while sympathizing in
" the great sorrow " that had fallen upon the
household which was his home on his last
visit to America; gives a missionary's estimate of our struggle in its relations to the
kingdom of God.*
"In regard to the dear young man himself we have no reason to mourn. He is
doubtless with Christ which is far better,
and he could not have offered up his young
life in a more just or noble cause, according
to my judgment. To die in attempting to
suppress the most audacious and wicked rebellion known to history is a high honor;
and whether successful or not, God will not
forget the offering; and inf his own way and
time, he will vindicate the memory of those
who have thus sacrificed all in this sacred
cause. If not to-day, yet it will not be long
before this matter will be set right; and
* Rev. W. M. Thomson, D. D., of the Syrian Mission, author of
"The Land and the Book."




212    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
when the millions who fall in the vulgar
scramble after wealth will have been forgotten,'those who shed their blood for law, liberty, truth and righteousness, will be held in
honor and everlasting remembrance.
" My recollections of your son are all very
pleasant;-mild and amiable and conscientious, and self-distrusting, he must have entered the army from the very purest motives;
and I honor and reverence now, where I
merely admired and loved before. BuLt alas!
for our country. It is just such instances as
this that enable me to realize the fearful
condition of things there, where all was
peace and prosperity when I left only four
years ago. Tremendous indeed must be the
pressure when such youth as I remember
John to have been, are roused and nerved
to face the grimn front of war.
"And what is to be the retribution of
those gigantic sinners who have caused this
immeasurable niischief!  But I need not
pursue this train of remark. Words are
very cheap. Were I in America, I would




THE SERGEA1NT'S MEMBORIAL.   213
be in the army, and act as well as pray and
preach. It is but little that any one man
call do, but that little I should most willingly
consecrate to the effort to suppress this most
monstrous slave rebellion."
Our country's noble and eloquent chanpion before Europe, mingles his tears of sympathy with words of lofty inspiration:
"Au ivacge, 17th A2pril, 1863.
"MY IDEAR FRIEND:-HOW to express to
you my deep and tender sympathy! I have
cast myself upon my knees, I have besought
the Lord to multiply to you his aid. He
alone can speak to you what your poor torn
heart needs to hear.
"That dear young man;-he has given
his life so purely and so nobly to a holy
cause! In that brief career God has laid
upon him the fulfillment of a grand duty;more than IHe often assigns to our long
course. And then, above all, that Christian
death! Well do you know where to seek
him!  He has entered into the Father's




214    THE SE RG EANT'' iALEAORIAL.
house, where the same grace of Christ has
prepared a place for those who mourn him.
"And yet, it is well to weep-God does
not condemn our tears.  What a rending!
I bewail you from the bottom of my heart.
As your letter expresses it,'a portion of
yourself has been swallowed up in that dear
tomb.' If it is sweet to you to know that
other hearts are afflicted with yours, that
hands reach forth from afar to clasp yours,
that fervent prayers unite with yours, oh,
be sure that this is so.
"You have recently had the great pleasure of seeing another of your children make
a public profession of faith in the Saviour.
Oh, that God would give us above all in our
families the joy of feeling that we are one
heart and one single soul for his service —
that the word spoken to Paul might be addressed to us also,'I have given thee all
those who sail with thee.'
"It seems to me that your affairs take on
a better aspect. Those internal dissensions
that we had apprehended for you, do not ap,




THE SERGEANT'S MiEMORIAL.   215
pear to come to much. Maintain your unity.
Bind yourselves around Mr. Lincoln.
"Adieu, dear sir and friend, I pray our
good God to keep himself with you, to bless
you, yours, and your dear country for which
you have made so great and so mournful a
sacrifice.
Receive especially my respectful regards.
A. DE GASPARIN.




XXIX.
HT  E Infinite Father opens avenues into
hlis heart through the wounds that He
inflicts upon our hearts, and interprets Himself to us through our personal experiences.
Indeed God is often revealed to us through
emotion whdre mere intellection would quite
fail to apprehend Him. The sublime climax
of divine love and promise is given in these
few words: " He spared not his own Son."
At God's command Abraham  took his
Isaac, his delighlt, away from his home and
his mother, to the mountain in the wilderness; he laid him upon the wood; he bound
him with cords to the altar; he made ready
the knife-when the angel of the Lord cried
"L Forbear, lay not thine hand upon the lad."
(216)




THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.  217
He spared Abraham's son, but he did not
spare his own son!
It may be that God calls you to Abraham's
faith, and to more than Abraham's sacrifice;
that he bids you lay your son upon the altar
of patriotism, the altar of liberty, the altar
of missions, the altar of humanity; and when
the sacrifice is made ready, he sends no angel to stay it, he provides no lamb for substitution; he sees the blow about to fall, and
lets it fall;-but when a horror of darkness,
like that which encompassed Abraham, gathers about you, its folds are rent at the thickest; through your own riven heart, you look
into the heart of the infinite Father; the
glory of the Shekinah enwraps the sacrifice;
and heavenly voices chant these words of
love —He that spared not his own Son will
freely give you all things.
It is not for human hearts to measure the
love of God; it is not for human tongues to
tell the love of God in Christ. We know
not what heights of love they behold whose
eyes death hath unsealed: we know not
19




218    THE SERGi G~AVT'S E0ORIAL~.
what words of love they speak, whose
tongues death hath unloosed; but while
heart and tongue remain, we can know and
speak no greater love than these few words:
HIE SPARED NOT HIS OWN SON.




xxX.
ADDRESS
OF REV. R. S. STORRS, JR., D. D., AT THE FUNERAL OF SERGEANT JOHN H. THOMPSON, IN THE BROADWAY TABERNACLE
CHURCH, MARCH 20, 1863.
I AM not here, Brethren and Friends, to
praise the dead. If I were otherwise
moved to do so, the wishes of those whose
wishes should of right control this occasion,
would forbid my attempting it.  We know
too that his wishes, if once more his spirit
could speak to us,-breaking for a moment
the marble stillness that seals henceforth
those silent lips-that his wishes, harmonious with those of his parents, would equally
prohibit our words of praise. They are not
(219)




220   THE SERGEAN1T'S AIEMORIAL.
needed; certainly not in this place, and in
this presence. You do not need them, his
classmates and companions of the school and
of college, who have come hithler to look
for the last time on the face that has been
familiar to you, and to express by your
attendance on these services your affection
for his character, and your sorrow at his
death. You do not need them, members of
the Regiment with which he was connected
when he first went forth to do battle for his
country, and which he only left when its
term of active service had expired, to join
the other in which he died.  You know
for yourselves how faithful he was in every
duty; how  resolute, uncomplaining, and
courageous; how full of soldierly spirit and
patriotic devotion; and your presence here
to-day attests your regard for him. Least
of all is it needful that I speak in his
praise to you, my Brethren, the members
of this Church in which he was trained
in the knowledge of God, and of the Gospel
of Christ, through his unfolding youth; in




TIlE SERGEANT'S ifEfORIAL.   221
which he made his public confession of faith
in the Master, and consecrated himself to
His service in the world. You know how
true and tender he was; how manly and
how modest.  You have seen and noted
his daily life, and have felt the impression
of his conscientious and affectionate character. You have loved him, for his own sake,
and for- the sake of his parents. And you
need no words in eulogy of him from my
lips to-day.
Less, indeed, than at any other time, are
such words needed here and now, as we
stand before his coffin, and remember that
his spirit will return to us no imore. For it
is one of the beautiful offices which Death
accomplishes, to reveal to us more distinctly
the excellence of the friend from whom we
have by him been parted. We walk with
such a friend, in the familiarity of life, without pausing to consider what it is in his
character which makes him lovely or noble
to us. But when Death has taken him, the
memory, the sensibility, at once become acL1




222   TSIlE SER GEANT'S MEMORIAL.
tive, representing to us more vividly than before the several elements, the various forces,
which were combined in his life to endear
him to us. Not that we do this with distinct and intentional logical analysis; but
that our thoughts, as inspired by our hearts,
do it spontaneously; until every mourner
finds it true that even as the sunshine,
streaming in through these windows, so
beautiful in itself, may be untwisted by man's
art into the various primary colors that are
braided together to make its perfect golden
radiance, so the separate excellences that
were blended and combined in the character
of a friend impress us individually, with
most distinctness, when we view that character through the prism of our tears.
No; it is not to praise the dead that I
have come hither, and am standing above
the coffin of him whom I remember in his
beautiful childhood-the coffin which you,
with affectionate, hands, have heaped with
flowers, and on which you have laid the emblem of the Cross. I am here only to sug



THE SERGEANT'S [E ORBIAL.   223
gest-as it seems to be meet that some one
should suggest-a few  general thoughts
connected with the event by which we are
convened; thoughts that are familiar, yet
that always are full of instruction and encouragement, and that hardly can fail to be
emphasized to us by the scene amid which
we are assembled.
The primary thought, and the most essential, of course, is that one which is always
impressed upon us anew whenever we confront the presence of Death: of the supreme
value that belongs to the Gospel; the
entirely transcendent and incomparable
worth of a Christian hope. - Amid the
pleasures and excitements of life, the young,
especially, may not feel this. Religion to
them may seem a burden, not a privilege;
and the prizes of life, as they glitter before
their ardent hope, may hide from their eyes
the heavenly splendor of the pearl of great
price. But-nhere, to-day, as in every such
scene, we know and feel that the one thing
essential to man's well-being —the one thing?




224   7TEi SERGE3ANT''S MEZXORLIL.
essential to the comfort of those who bow
in grief above tile form of their unburied
dead —is. the assurance of that faith in the
Master by which the grave is robbed of its
terrors; which makes it luminous with celes'
tial promises; yea, which enables us to
look through its portal, steep and narrow
as are the sides, into the peace and the triumph of Paradise!  Let me press this
-thought especially upon you, my dear young
friends, who are here as thile companions,
equal in age, of him Iwh o has gone. His
pleasant studies, his eager hopes and earnest plans for further study, to be accomplished perhaps abroad, his pleasures, such
cesses, and schemes of life, whatever they
were, are ended now. So far as the earthly
life is concerned, the consummnation of all is
here; in this still form; this eye, whose light
is quenched in darkness!.  But, oh! how
precious, beyond  compare, to those who
loved him —-how precious to himself beyond
all words, beyond all thought-that unobtrusive faith in Christ he felt and showed;




THE PSERGEANT'S MEMIORIAL.    225
that sweet submission to all God's will.
which made his other graces grander, and
which was never so clearly shown as in the
hour of parting life!
But, beside this, there are two or three
thoughts which seem specially fitting to this
occasion. The first is: of the infinite and
inexhaustible plentitude of that Divine
power that can dispense with even such
instruments as these, so costly and so admirable,-with the cultured minds and the
consecrated wills that seem precisely adapted to its use —and still can woriE out, without their aid, the perfect designs of God's
wisdonm cnd love.
The experience here presented is not a
new one. It is as old as the preaching of
Christianity in the world; a s old, one might
almost say, as the history of man. Stephen
died, full of faith and Christian power, leading, with saintly and shining face, the long
procession of Christian martyrs; looking
up into Heaven, and seeing the Son of Man
standing to welcome him at the right hand




226   STIE SERGEANT'S MEiOORIAL.
of God; his body crushed, life beaten fromn
it, beneath the furious storm of stones, at
just the crisis when most of all that life to
man's eyes appeared indispensable, to the
church which was so weak, and the world,
whose whole hope was bound up in that
church. But God's design to publish the
Gospel, and to make the empires subject to
his Son, was not arrested by the death of
even this eminent servant. Nay, Hle made
that death, in its seeming so disastrous, a
means of the progress of His august plan;
so affecting by it the heart of a bystander,
who was consenting to it, that it is hardly
too much to say, with those of old, that, " if
Stephen had not prayed, the church had not
possessed its Paul," and that we still catch
the echoes of his words whose face appeared
as the face of an angel, through the argument and imagery and the mighty appeals
of the Pauline Epistles.
So in every great movement which Christendom has since seen. So in our own Revt
olutionary struggle. Nathan Hale dies: the,




TTIE SERXGANT'S MEMORIZL.    227
accomplished student, the stimulating teacher, the affectionate, earnest, exemplary
Christian, the soldier whose career was full
of promise: he dies ignominiously, in this
city of New York, surrendering his life in
thle cause of his country, and only regretting
in the hour of his death that he has but one
life to devote to that country. But the
Cause is not thwarted; it is not even checked.
Warren dies: the pure patriot, the farsighted statesman, the orator able to electrify and persuade men, the soldier undaunted by any danger, the man without fear and
without reproach: and it seems for the time
as if the bullet that has blasted his life, and
sealed forever his eloquent lips, has fatally
shattered the hopes of the country, and
stricken the movement represented by him
with remediless disaster. But still the great
Cause marches on; and the struggle for
National Freedom and Union, so early baptized with the blood of its best and noblest
champions, is brought at last to a triumphant issue.




228   1THE SERGEANT'S MLEMORIAL.
And so to-day. This scene is one of how
many like scenes, occurring throughout our
loyal land!  The young, the brave, the
charming and the cherished, bright minds,
swift wills, and gallant hearts: oh, in how
many scattered church-yards, within the year,
have such been laid for the last sleep! How
many hearts have ached and bled, like these
before me, while over the coffins of those
they loved they have repeated the sad
words: " Died in the field!" "Died in the
camp!" " Died at the war!" Over how many
churches and villages have tidings of these
deaths spread a thick gloom! But shall we
therefore be despondent, because the young
are dying first? because the strong, who
should have borne out others to their burial,
are carried themselves in such vast numbers,
blanched by the fever or drenched in blood,
to be laid down, before their time, for the
long rest? No: rather let us the more adore
that Power Unsearchable which never is dependent for its success on human instruments which is not limited, by our econo



THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.   2229
mies; which makes the absolute final success consistent with all this lavish expenditure of even the costliest, choicest means;
and which works on its wondrous way, to
the perfect realization of God's designs, in
spite of all combined resistance; unharmed
by those who would arrest, unhindered by
any defect or failure of force or life in those
who would assist it!
I know hardly another'point from whichl I
get so grand a view of that eternal aend
sovereign might which is our God's-of thalt
transcendent power which, as joined with
justice and an absolute goodness, is the safeguard of the universe, the object of constant
angelic praise, and the prime condition of all
our hopes-as comes to me here! Not when
I think of the forces and laws that gird
and guide this whirling earth, of the. mountains God has reared, or the oceans whose
beds His hands have scooped, or of the
whole material universe-not standing in
space on pillars of adamant, but' suspendedforever on the word of His power! but
20




230    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
when I reflect how untroubled are His plans
by what to us looks most disastrous! how
He does not care to protect by His providence what we count most important to His
purpose! and how with absolute steadiness
of accomplishment His plans move on, though
hundreds and thousands of those who would
perform them are fainting by the way! How
vast the resources, which even such a loss
and waste as here appears, in no wise lessens!
I-ow unspeakable the energy which can dispense with these noble auxiliaries, and be no
whit less certain of the result!
And another thought as natural to the
occasion, and which seems irresistibly imrpressed upon my heart as I stand here today, is that of the greatness and glory of the
Future, for this our Nation, which is to be
wrought out for it at last through all this sacrifice, suffering, death!
I know there are other points, not a few,
from which the same great thought is suggested. As we look back to the long, slow
series of centuries through which this con



THE SERGEANTS E ORPIAL.   231
tinent remained hidden so perfectly from the
eyes of the world; as we see how promptly
it was brought to the light when the era of
advancing Reformation had been reached,
and forces were developed and at work within
Christendom, adapted, as transferred here,
to make it a kingdom of God and of his
Son; as we notice what care and pains God
took to people it from the start with representatives of the best religious culture the
world had reached; and how he has trained,
and disciplined, and enriched this people
ever since, and has made of the early scattered colonies a great Christian Nation,
whose unity may be threatened but cannot
be broken, and whose influence must extend
more widely, through commerce and litera-'ture, laws and arts, the missions of the Cross
and the example of Liberty, with every year;
nay, as we look upon the country itself,
so apt for tillage, so wealthy with metallic and mineral treasures, laced and bound
inextricably together by such ranges of
mountains and such vast rivers, and so poised.




032    TIHE SERGEANT'S MEMORliAL.
and set on the crest of the earth that its
influence strikes almost of necessity across
both oceans, around the world;-it is impossible not to feel that He who has purposed and has conducted thus far this
wonderful history, and has fashioned and
framed this unequaled arena for a grand
Christian Nation, intends to fulfill His own
prophecies concerning it! intends to make
it a Nation to His praise; and to give it at
home such a Christian development, and to
give it abroad sucli a reach and sweep of
Christian influence, as no other nation, nor
this itself, has yet approached; as almost
none has ever conceived!-Undoubtedly, my
Brethren, this is to be. It is ours to believe
it; and on the sure and steadfast pillars of'
this great hope, of this certain expectation,
to take hold with strong faith whensoever
we are timid concerning our Nation, that
there may come new strength to our souls,
a new ardor and energy to all our exertions.
The great visions of the Fathers are here to
be fulfilled. The thunderous discords now




THE SERGIEANT'S JIJItORI,,1L.    233
shattering the air, are to be hushed by-andby; giving place to " hallelujahs and harping
symphonies." And an empire is at last to be
here, one, free, Christian, mighty, for the furtherance of the reign of Messiah in the world.
But nowhere, as I said, does this great
thought come to me so vividly, nowhere else
is the certainty of this sublime Future so
impressed upon my heart, as when I stand
in a scene like this, and remember that this
is but one of multitudes, occurring simultaneously, occurring continuously, in these'late months, in city and village, from the
Eastern slopes to the shores of the Pacific!
This discipline of our suffering-how suddenly it has come! How stern it is; and
how wide-reaching! Ah, think how many
are being trained by it! Not the wounded
or sickening soldier alone; not he only
who lies in his stiffening garments upon the
torn and trampled battle-ground, in the
furrowed ridges which the cannon have
ploughed, or he who lies down, as did ouri
friend, in the lonely tent afar from home,
20*




2 34    THE SERGEANT'gS gEMORIAL.
where no domestic care watches over him,
and no dear face of parent or friend is near
to cheer; but they, as well, who from farmnhlouse or mansion look out for his coming
who shall no more return to them: they
who watch with faint hearts for the letter
or the message that does not reach them till
too late: fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,
whose hearts are shaken by every report of
the distant artillery that flies across the
reverberating wires, whose souls are pierced
with shafts of pain by every bullet that
strikes the ranks in which their dear ones
are arrayed:-all these are the sufferers
whom this discipline touches! Shall there
not be an outcome, precious and grand, to
the Nation which God has so planted and
watched, from this vast pain? Shall not the
people that was growing too fierce, ambitious, and sensual, through its constant successes, be taught and trained for a far
nobler errand by this sharp sorrow that:searches now, with almost omnipresent probe,
it'j inmost heart?




THE S-ERGEAiYT'S lfEMORIAL.   235
Certainly, my Brethren, certainly, it shall
be! Even according to our human economies, by the price that is paid may be usually measured the good that is gained. By
the labor of the hands, and the active exertion of brain and will, we buy outward
wealth; or even, it may be, mental accomplishments. By love, alone, do we gain
love, that grander good. Through nothing
less than long endurance do we achieve victorious character. By suffering, only, are we
changed, through God's grace, into the likeness of Him, our Lord, who, innocent as He
was, was the chiefest of sufferers; that having
been partakers of His patience on earth, we
may be partakers of His triumph on high.
The very Church of Christ is purchased,
with His own blood. And so I know that
God has great and precious things reserved
in His purpose for us as a people, to be
wrought out in us, and then wrought out for
us, through this immense but remedial pain!
If it were only material prosperity that He
had reserved for us-of mountains tunneled




236    THE SERGEANT'S HE[ORIAL.
and valleys bridged, of mines explored,
and great energies subjugated, of rivers
echoing to the tramp of the wheel, and cities shining on the marge of the lakes, and
villages strung like glittering pearls on the
threads of the railways, of homes *being
multiplied, and universities rising, and an
affluent commerce, encompassing the globe,
-then all this might be accomplished, with
His aid, through foresight and fortitude, an
inventive, intrepid, and masterful sagacity;
and to these alone He would' then train us.
But when I think  of all these forms,
shrouded in pale or bloody death —of all
these hearts wrung with an anguish unfelt
before, in our late history,-of all those
happy Christian homes, wherein the very
tenderness of love is now the occasion of
fear and pain that pass all words-I know
that it is not stuc7l a prosperity, alone, that
awaits us! An argument comes for our ultimate unity, and Christian supremacy, from
the vNTery severity of this present sorrow.
It must be that we are to buy redemption




lTHE SERGEAN7T'S XEfORIXL.   237
from long iniquities, by these fierce pangs,
this bloody sweat. And never does the vast
and magnificent temple of American Liberty,
as it is to be in the centuries to come, arise
before me in such an august and radiant
beauty, so lovely, so majestic, so capacious,
so enduring, as when I remember that its
great columns are now being planted, and
its ascending pillars set, in all these thousands of Christian graves!
The last thought I have to suggest is this:
What a light is cast by the death of one
like him before us, in the early prime and
vigor of life, with every power just springing upward to its maturity-what a light is
cast on the offices of Heaven; on the nature of the Life that shall there open to us;
as full of great works, giving scope illimitable to each bright faculty, to each hi-gh
power, that stirs within us!-If only the
infant, the young child, died, we should
think of Heaven as a home of kindness, a
sphere of culture, a nursery only for the infantile mind. If only the aged were to die




238    THEI SERG-EANT'S XEEMORIAL.
-falling like shocks of corn fully ripe in
their season, rounding with death a life long
protracted, and the energy of whose powers
was beginning to fail-we should then think
of Heaven only as a scene of reward and
repose; of rest after toil; of long tranquillity after long service. But when the
young and strong are taken, they whose
faculties seemed to prophesy large development, and whose elastic and untired spirit
was even then, with the keenest vitality, impelling them forward to exertion and activity-we know that Heaven is something
other than either a shelter and school for
babes, or a home of quiet repose for the
aged.  Our thoughts run on instinctively
to its scenes, and anticipate amid them opportunities and offices such as shall meet
the utmost demands of the young and
fresh spirit, inspired with desires for knowledge and wisdom, capable of and eager
for a various, wide-ranging, and beneficent
use of the force God has given it. And
so there come to us new and more just




THE SERGEANIT'S [EMORIAL.   239
conceptions, I think, of the Life Everlasting.
It is not song, only, that shall occupy us
there; but a vast yet unfatiguing service,
for God and for the Universe; a service.transformed into a nobler than any audible
praise by the spirit of Love that pervades
and transfigures it! No inlet to pleasure,
no capacity for it, but shall be'more than
satisfied there! No pure sensibility, no delicate taste, no thirst for affection, no energy
of will, no finest or lordliest power of the soul,
but shall find there its most perfect exhibition, its most exuberant joy and use! And
though we cannot prefigure precisely the
work to be done there, or the embassies of
love on which they shall forever go forth
who are lifted from  the earth to those
sublime heights, we know, as we stand be-side a coffin like this, and think of him who
was with us so lately, and who henceforth
is with the Master, that not vacant or barren is that Immortality which to him hath
been opened; that full, on the other hand,




240    THE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
is it forever of vivacity and variety, of stimulation and success, of sympathy and activity, of usefulness and reward!  The
stream has passed beyond the point where
our eyes follow it; but we know, as certainly as we know that God lives, that it
flows on still, with only a swifter and
mightier current. The star has faded from
our sight; but only because its lustre is
completed in the perfect effulgence of the
Hleavenly Day!
Let me congratulate you then, my Friends,
the parents of him who sleeps before us,
that he has been counted worthy by Christ
to arise to all this, which our thoughts cannot compass; of which the very prophetic
vision can tell our dclarkened minds so little!
WVe are not here to offer comfort, alone;
although of that how many are the sources!
But we are here rather to recognize with
you, with joy of heart, God's tokens of love
which have come to you with this sorrow;
in even its circumstances, as well as in itself.
WTe thank Him, with you, that the voice of




THE SERGEAN'T'S MEA{ORIAL.   241
Christian adoration and praise was heard
in the tent where your son passed on, alone
but unalarmed, through the shadow of Death.
We thank God, with you, that he was permitted to send to you, and you to receive,
his last messages of remembrance and of
filial affection; and that you have been
permitted to bring him, unmarred of decay,
in the still and solemn beauty of' death, to
this familiar house and altar, and with these
appropriate funeral rites to close the coffin
above the dear dust! But more than for
all things else, we thank God, and with you
offer to Him our praise, that He has opened
to this your son those gates of peace through
which'have passed Apostles' feet, the Martyrs', and the Saints', and Christ the Lord's!
that he, henceforth, from all trial and pain is
free forever! Not in the European schools
shall he pursue his further studies, but in
that "better country, even an heavenly,"
where'Paul shall teach, and Gabriel shall
hear, the wonders of God's love in man'Redemption. He would have been promoted,
21




242    THlE SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL.
if he had lived, to higher rank in the National service. But Christ hath called himHe who in righteousness doth judge and
make war, upon whose head are many
crowns, and who hath on His vesture and
on His thigh a name written, King of Kings,
and Lord of Lords-He hath called him to
nobler office, in a how far sublimer warfare!
Look up, then, and not down; to Paradise
on high, and not to the grave; and know
that every day and hour, if we are faithful,
but brings us nearer to that same wonder,
that ecstasy and mystery, of vision and of
victory, which hle hath reache d  Ah! when
we shall at last attain it, and join again the
souls, so many and so beloved, who have
gone on to it before us, what words or harps
shall be sufficient to speak to God or tell to
Saints our perfect praise!