E 513 
 
 .5 
 
 35th 
 
 TRIBUTE 
 
 MAJOR SIDNEY WILLARD, 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE WEST CHURCH, 
 
 December 21, Foeefathers' Dat. 
 
THE NATION'S HOUR 
 
 TRIBUTE 
 
 MAJOR SIDNEY WILLARD, 
 
 DELIVERED IN THE WEST CHURCH, 
 
 December 21, Forefathers' Day. 
 
 BY C. A. BARTOL. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY, 
 
 245, Washington Street. 
 
 ■ 1862. 
 
 I^aTV^' 
 
Z^13 
 .5" 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 printed by john wilson and son, 
 
 5, Water Street. 
 
ir 
 
 j2 
 
 THE NATION'S H O U E. 
 
 The hour is come." — John xvii. 1. 
 
 We have all some time felt like saying so. The smooth 
 earth runs up roughly into mountains and down into 
 gulfs, that produce the whole circulation of its life. 
 So our human habit is broken with critical hours, on 
 our behavior in which hangs the destiny of our being. 
 The grave George Washington, in a particular battle, 
 was exalted above himself by the interests at stake, 
 and moved hke the Archangel Michael in the scene. 
 Such is everybody's experience. The man at the 
 wheel, when the vessel winds through dangerous 
 straits or grazes by sunken rocks on a lee shore, is 
 more asth with the stimulus of hope and fear, touching 
 his mind and whitening in his face, than in any ordi- 
 nary navigation. An assault of temptation, when our 
 character trembles in the scale ; a trial at some bar of 
 judgment, where our honor is involved ; a wrench in 
 our ties of love, causing mental agony ; a paroxysm 
 of disease, threatening an exchange of worlds, — 
 
brings us to such a peculiar hour, by exciting, beyond 
 the usual routine and monotony of existence, our 
 faculties and affections to whatever effort or ecstasy 
 they can reach. It is vam to say one moment is just 
 Hke another, and of equal rate. So in itself it is, but 
 not to us. The moment when you are betrothed or 
 wedded, or a chHd, perhaps the fost, is born to you, 
 or a friend leaves you or dies, or victory crowns or 
 defeat puts back the cause you hold dear, marks the 
 almanac, pricks the circle of the sun, and is prmted in 
 your heart. Even Jesus, the wonderfully calm one, in 
 the bosom of the Father, and in full i-ision of all that 
 time or eternity could bring, had an horn- on which all 
 for him turned. It was an hour of agony. He fore- 
 saw it : far in the distance, hke a cloud, it rose. He 
 asks whether he should pray, " Save me from this 
 houi'." He answers, " But for this cause came I unto 
 this horn-." When, at last, it was at hand, he went 
 down the valley betwixt Jerusalem and the Mount of 
 Olives, crossed the brook Kedron, entered the garden 
 of Gethsemane, prayed " one hour " of bloody sweat in 
 preparation for his cross, and, with its shadow falling 
 on him darker than the overhanging night, declared 
 the hour of his gloom to be the hour of his glory. 
 
 What is the hour to which loe have come? It is 
 the Nation's hour, and yours and mine only as we 
 make it hers in the period of her trial, and decision of 
 her fate. A nation's hour is not measured by one 
 
revolution of the hand on a clock, or by an inch of 
 shadow on the dial. It is a long hour that has ar- 
 rived for this country. It has taken in two summers, 
 and is in the second winter now. The hour, weighty 
 to determine the future condition of our posterity 
 and this hemisphere of the globe, has come, but has 
 not gone : we are in the midst of it. Oui' conduct, 
 like that of Jesus, has much to do in determining its 
 character and import ; and God is using om* action, 
 with that of our rulers, the citizens, leaders, soldiers, 
 of the land, as elements in the great result to come. 
 Let us offer all we are or have of thought or word, 
 deed or sacrificial blood, that can be instrumental to a 
 right issue for the common welfare. 
 
 But, as the worth of the hour depends on the posi- 
 tion and prospects of those to whom it belongs, what 
 is the nation here whose hour has come 1 Nations 
 are of many kinds ; the American nation unlike any 
 other. No nation can we recognize as satisfying our 
 idea, or fulfilling the providential design, but that 
 whose seed our fathers planted. As the hour of Jesus 
 was at midnight, so how thehs was at the very mid- 
 night of the year ! What an hour for themselves and 
 humanity, when they forsook the comfort, art, and re- 
 finement of an ancient home, at the caU of God, 
 making the little " Mayflower " another ark, to pre- 
 serve, not animal life or earthly treasure, but the 
 convictions of their breasts ! What does this twenty- 
 
first of December, this fresh anniversary of their 
 landing, charge ns, but to remember the civil and 
 religious freedom, the Christian order and law, the 
 equal rights of men, for whose assertion they came 1 
 It was one of the world's critical hours when that for- 
 lorn hundred of persecuted Puritans took their wintry 
 voyage for some region in the Western wild, where 
 their principles might not be dug up and destroyed by 
 sharp tools of the tyranny of Church and State as soon 
 as they were set out, but spiritual worship, and a pure 
 reign of God on earth, rise, thrive, and flourish for 
 human good. 
 
 Why do I say it is the nation contemplated by that 
 little band, who, as one said, were sifted as wheat from 
 three kmgdoms, for the culture of a better race, which 
 is now in question, and whose hour of doom or deli- 
 very has come ? Because only from them did the new 
 style of nation, distinguished from European aristo- 
 cracy and despotism, to blossom m our Declaration of 
 Independence, take root. Their eyes were not the 
 only ones eagerly fixed on this balance of the planet 
 toward the setting sun. Many besides them sailed 
 across the sea — Dutch, Spaniards, Portuguese, 
 French, English — on other errands, inspired with 
 the longing for material riches and political sway ; 
 taking possession of large areas from Newfoundland 
 to Cape Horn, with the putting-up of crosses and 
 coats of arms, cutting of kings' names on trees, wav- 
 
ing of banners and giving of titles ; seeking mostly the 
 milder climes ; ravaging the mterior with fire and 
 sword against the aboriginal populations, or cruising 
 in ships after each other in the Mexican Gulf or 
 among the swarm of neighboring islands, to pick 
 piratical quarrel, and rob each other of gold ; gam 
 and empu'e the motives that sped a thousand keels 
 and arrayed successive hosts in arms. The Pilgrims' 
 mission was to sow the continent with liberty, justice, 
 and obedience to God. They had no other intent. 
 They objected not to the cold and ragged territory to 
 which the winds and waves had borne them, if they 
 could graft its growth with their holy persuasions of 
 what was due to their Maker and mankmd. They 
 were willing to commit their handfuls of grain to sandy 
 furrows, half released from snow and ice, for a scanty 
 crop, foregoing all harvests of plenty and luxury, if a 
 commonwealth of manly virtue and godly devotion 
 could but spring in the desert of then* refuge. They 
 alone socially succeeded in rearing such a government 
 on these shores. They themselves, in their life and 
 death, were the sowing and the seed of truth, first 
 and only broadcast in these vast latitudes. Though 
 exceptional persons not of thek company, like Wil- 
 liam Penn, proposed humane objects this side the 
 water, the Pilgrims alone carried them out, and raised 
 them up toward heaven in lasting spread and strength. 
 Imperfect as, in the weakness of human nature, igno- 
 
8 
 
 ranee of the age, or necessities of civil fellowship, 
 their toleration became, driven into savage warfare as 
 they unavoidably were, they, and none else, vindicat- 
 ed the view of a nation for ends of divine glory and 
 human safety above what had before been created or 
 conceived ; and the Eevolutionary struggle, which 
 separated their descendants, with the associate Colo- 
 nies, from the British Crown, befell by reason of their 
 faith, heroism, and suffering, as fruit drops ripe from 
 the bough. 
 
 Now, for the nation they projected and began to 
 build, the hour has come ; the hour to decide whether 
 it shall perish, give place to tribes of a meaner type, 
 against that hope of our fathers, for which we, like 
 Paul, stand and are judged this day, or whether it shall 
 siu'vive and be glorified. In the old fable, the life of 
 the Greek hero hung on the alternative of his stran- 
 gling the serpents sent to his cradle, or the serpents' 
 strangling him. The mfancy of this nation was beset 
 by the monster whose venomous and wily strength has 
 not yet been overcome. Four months before the 
 colony began at Plymouth, a Dutch man-of-war en- 
 tered that very James River, smce so famous, with 
 twenty negroes for sale. Nay, in the precedmg cen- 
 tury, on the track of the naval explorer, Hawkins, 
 followed a series of adventurers straight from England 
 to the Canaries, and thence to the coast of Africa, to 
 hunt down the natives, fill their ships with cargoes of 
 
9 
 
 wretched slaves, and force them on the West-India 
 planters for whatever price they chose to give. The 
 bondage of man to man has been a native production 
 of some soils. The Occidental curse of slavery was 
 not indigenous, but introduced first by cruelty from 
 that very land which now chooses to forget its respon- 
 sibility for the exotic it bore hither, and, with a horrid 
 consistency to its early Avork, gives its sympathy still 
 to slaveholding against liberty, in our struggle for life. 
 Does it wish to have the serpent prevail, and the free 
 manhood, that might threaten its own arbitrariness, 
 poisoned and crushed? Has it a secret hope, that the 
 bloody thorn, so deep in the side of this Republic, will 
 not be plucked out, but torment us to our grave ? 
 Would it see us laid out in our shroud ? Opposition 
 m such a quarter shows us at least the dreadful 
 strength of the evil with which we are summoned, m 
 a death-hug, to close. 
 
 Quietly and justly of this matter may I speak, and 
 will you hear ? Human slavery is not the fault alone 
 or peculiarly of this age or comitry, of the self-willed 
 South or the compromising North. It is the sin of 
 civihzation. From Egypt and Greece, Judaea and 
 Rome, to America, it has stretched. The Old World 
 has been full of it. England and France have had 
 thek hands deep in it, and cannot lift their fingers into 
 the light of history without showing ruddy stains, which 
 all the waters of the sea cannot wash ofi". Russia grap- 
 
 2 
 
10 
 
 pies with it now through her immense domain. What 
 is the nature of the sin ? It is treating our fellow-men 
 as things, using them as our tools. Only they who 
 never do this are clean. Are we, brethren and sisters, 
 all of us, even those most loud for liberty and justice, 
 quite clean of it ourselves 1 Alas ! how we respect the 
 jjersons of men more than their personality , the out- 
 ward appearance and advantage beyond the soul, 
 wealth rather than worth ! Are we aware that this, 
 too, is the sin of slavery] This sin comes to a head in 
 that part of these United States where men, women, 
 and children — little children blameless as those you 
 bear and nurse — are bought and sold, and bred for the 
 buyer and seller ; the most holy bonds of relationship 
 broken ; so that, as a surgeon from this church in 
 North Carolina lately told me, in his observation, chas- 
 tity seemed hardly to exist or be known as a virtue 
 toward or among the colored folk ; — husbands and 
 wives, brothers and sisters, in ties like your own, — O 
 sacred name of humanity ! — parted as so many lots of 
 merchandise, advertised in the newspapers as goods, 
 put up at auction like wares in your commission-stores, 
 sent south in gangs or coffles like so much avoirdu- 
 pois load in a freight-car, and forced asunder at the 
 owner's death for the necessary legal division of pro- 
 perty, — a cuxumstance, the unavoidableness of which, 
 a noble Virginian woman, who had emancipated her 
 slaves, assured me, sufficed in her mind to condemn the 
 
11 
 
 whole system ; — and worse, if worse can be, men de- 
 livering over to the barterer, for a consideration, what 
 is part of their own flesh and blood. More than the 
 bleak climate, more than the strange heretic, more 
 than the savage with his glittering tomahawk, did the 
 germmation of a system, involving all these things, 
 menace the governmental fabric which the Pilgrims 
 proposed ; and it is on the claim imperiously made for 
 its unhmited territorial extension and perpetuation, 
 contrary alike to the heart of our fathers and the 
 scheme of the framers of our Constitution, that the 
 present conflict is waged. 
 
 Other accounts, I know, are given of the origm of 
 the strife. One man says it was provoked, not by 
 slavery or any of its pretensions, but purely by anti- 
 slavery fanaticism ; a second says that he can count on 
 his fingers the names of the politicians whose ambition 
 brought it on ; and a third, that it arose with the 
 formation of a sectional party at the North. Mr. Cal- 
 houn anticipated it with any disturbance of the exact 
 equipoise of Slavery and Freedom, singular things as 
 they are to weigh so nicely together. Many have 
 fondly hoped, that, though vital opposites, these two 
 could he coiled up closely m one constitution for aU 
 time, and not faU out. Desperate efforts, terrible sac- 
 rifices, have been made to reconcile them ; nor will I 
 brand the patience and labor expended to keep them 
 from deadly grip as all so much iniquity and folly. 
 
12 
 
 although finally provmg so utterly vain. Heaven did 
 not mean that they should be so united, and for ever 
 agree. Heaven ordamed their mutual claims to be 
 resolved here, front to front. Hoes antislavery vex 
 you ? It was born of slavery ; could not help existing 
 more than any other effect, — offspring of a parent, 
 oxygen of the ak, or conscience of man. Explain as 
 we will the symptoms or proximate cause of our 
 trouble, it is no accident, but written in the book 
 above, with a pen furnished to the divine hand by the 
 institution itself, aiming at unbounded predominance, 
 before the holding of the Charleston Convention or 
 filing of the Sumter gun. Why that outbreak '? The 
 hour had come ! The impossibility of postponmg the 
 issue — which should govern, Slavery or Freedom — 
 opened this war ; and, maintamed for Freedom, God's 
 war and man's war it is, to prevent the laymg of 
 Slavery for the corner-stone it is aflfirmed to be, but 
 rotten timber it is, in the edifice of good government. 
 To settle this question of foundations, — on the long, 
 indecisive 
 of arms. 
 
 indecisive duel of argument, has followed the shock 
 
 ' Now's the day, and now's the hour ; 
 See the front of battle lower ! " 
 
 The abolition of the slavery which is its cause is 
 not its object, but will be its effect ; else we have no 
 sufficient recompense for its pangs. Its direct object is 
 the existence and authority of the nation, whose hour 
 
13 
 
 has verily come. For that, we have accepted the ordeal 
 by battle to which we were forced. " It is expedient 
 that one man should die for the people, and that 
 the whole nation perish not," said Caiaphas the high- 
 priest concerning Jcsns. He spake not of himself, but 
 " prophesied," or spake from God, the evangelist adds. 
 Is it not better that a hundred thousand men should 
 die than that this nation should perish '? My friends, I 
 am not fond of blood ! Word has repeatedly come to 
 me, that I shoidd not speak as I do on this subject if 
 I had sons ; but God, who enables me to speak as I 
 think, forgive me, if the having sons would rob me of 
 my sincerity ! Has the gift of sons, or theu' expiring 
 on the field, hindered some of you from speech as 
 strong, and testimony, before and since their departure, 
 more convincing, than I have ever used 1 Nay, some 
 of your sons, who have so breathed their last on earth, 
 have I not loved as my own ? Are you bereaved of 
 them ? I am bereft ; we are all bereft. What pillars, 
 had their hves been spared, they would have been of 
 this church ! But this church, so domestic, this quiet 
 family of ours, always shrinkmg from public notice, 
 in the hand of providence, as they are torn away, is 
 held up before the community, bleeding at every pore. 
 Yet, if this nation shall be preserved in part by our 
 contribution, liberty and union won and made perfect, 
 neither you nor I, nor yet the church, will lament our 
 offering, but feel with thanksgiving, that, precious as 
 
14 
 
 were the victims the great crime has exacted, we have 
 yet supplied the full price of blood. So other church- 
 es, of every name, sharing our sacrifices, will confess. 
 All Christian denominations, mingling vital drops from 
 the vems of their members, should be cemented in a 
 faith and charity and patriotic zeal, from which diifer- 
 ences of theological speculation should fall like the 
 mths of Samson, sundered as a thread of tow when 
 it toucheth the fire. 
 
 But while each household or assembly of prayer 
 will commemorate its own dead, commendmg their 
 spmts to God, you know the occasion for natural grief 
 and spuitual transport in enroUmg on the long list 
 now of our heroes and martyrs another spotless name. 
 Major Sidney Willard, acting Colonel of the Thii'ty- 
 fifth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, commis- 
 sioned fii'st as captain of a company, which he raised 
 in two days, instead of the eight allowed, so great 
 was the confidence m him, — thus rising with a 
 rarely rapid promotion, — was bom in Lancaster, in 
 this State, on Feb. 3, 1831 ; fitted for college at 
 the Boston Latin Grammar School ; graduated at Har- 
 vard in 1852 ; entered in due course upon the 
 practice of the law in Boston ; and in August last, — 
 the next day after his marriage on the 21st, — at the 
 simple dictate, in his own soul, of duty to his native 
 land and mankind, from his happy home, from his 
 professional business, from his dear and devoted wife. 
 
15 
 
 from all the promises of his chosen career, he pro- 
 ceeded to the theatre of action, because, to use his 
 own words, the time for him had come. For him to go 
 at all, seemed, to all but himself, almost a superfluity 
 of devotion, as, being an admirable tactician, he had 
 already done ten times his part, in training eight hun- 
 dred men, from Boston to Cambridge, Weston, Wren- 
 tham, Waltham, and Wayland ; and instructed twenty 
 officers for the camp and the field. But he said he 
 could no longer look his men in the face here : so, 
 with little taste, though great talent, for the actual 
 campaign, loathing contention, dra^^i by nothing but 
 a moral inspkation for the cause of liberty and right, 
 he turned his back on comfort, bade his friends and 
 beautiful prospects farewell, faced the fierce struggle 
 of the day, uniformly, amid all military exposure and 
 hardship, kept up to the highest standard of human 
 beha^-ior, with a sleepless, simple feeling of what he 
 ought to do, till he fell, Dec. 13, in the attack on 
 Fredericksburg, and expired the following day, after 
 lingering about twenty-four hours, — his hour having 
 indeed come ; his hour to die ; his hour to be trans- 
 lated and glorified ; his hour, this body of death we 
 still wear droppmg from him, to have nothing but hfe 
 remain. I am sorry with a personal grief to miss 
 him. I am glad to speak of him, — him of whom all, 
 who speak truly, must speak well. What shall I say] 
 I will say, he was a good son, a good brother, — there 
 
16 
 
 is one to say, a good husband too, brief as was that 
 earthly tie, — a good soldier, a good Christian, a good 
 man. I will say, he was without reproach of any 
 obhquity or impurity from his childhood to his grave. 
 I wUl say, he was born into the Chui-ch, nurtured in a 
 religious faith, an honor and joy throughout his course, 
 from the day of his bu'tli, to his believing parents, to 
 all his kindred, acquauitances, associates, and friends. 
 I hold him up, without hesitation, as a model of com- 
 pleteness, to young men. Probably no man, m all the 
 huge multitude that has gone forth, had a more har- 
 moniously developed body and soul ; yet he was, from 
 the first, of a sensitive, shrmking nature, with a hum- 
 ble estimate of himself. His intellectual unfoldmg 
 was slow, but lasting and strong. He achieved no 
 remarkable distinction in college, and had few, if any, 
 intimacies ; but, through all his modesty, his spii'itual 
 qualities beamed, and were fully appreciated by his 
 class. Though no cynic, he was free from the small- 
 est tendency to dissipation, was disgusted at the very 
 thought of it, and never once entered into a festive 
 entertainment. When a Freshman, being m a com- 
 pany where some indecent language, too common 
 among young men, was used, he denounced the utter- 
 ance, rose, and left the room, though the room was 
 actually his own ! Yet, to those w^ho had wandered, 
 he was a lenient judge. Walking, as he always did, 
 to Cambridge, — not riduig to or fro m a single m- 
 
17 
 
 stance, — on one occasion he came up with a student, 
 who, having yielded to the cup, had fallen by the way- 
 side, took him on his broad shoulders, and, notwith- 
 standing all the rude and angry resistance of his blind 
 burthen, carried him safely to the college-grounds. 
 Of his exceeding kindness of heart, I, as doubtless 
 many, from personal experience, were it proper here, 
 could furnish details, showing how ready, from amid 
 absorbing engagements, he was to give, gratuitously, 
 important counsel, and spend hour after hour in 
 others' service. 
 
 He was not only inwardly disposed, but made him- 
 self physically able, to do all manner of good. As 
 early as his tenth year, he began to frequent the gym- 
 nasium for exercise, which he persevered to take in 
 the open air ; economizing his leisure to scour every 
 road and path in the region, till he could walk fifty- 
 five miles in a day ; making, meantime, the keen 
 observations, to which, by a peculiar love of nature, he 
 was impelled. He was at home on the water as on 
 the land, and published m the "Atlantic Monthly" an 
 accomit of a " Night in a Wherry," — I know not 
 whether more extraordinary for the fearless exposure 
 it portrays, or his equal skill with the oai; and the 
 pen. His private letters are remarkable for a deep 
 transparency of natural feeling, through which shine 
 the solid principle and conscientious delicacy of exqui- 
 site color, by all his diversity of accomplishment only 
 
18 
 
 adorned. Those letters bear abundant evidence, in 
 pen-and-ink sketches of tents, military positions and 
 evolutions, with other objects, of the faculty for draw- 
 ing, which, too, he possessed and had cultivated. He 
 w^as a lover of music ; and, though his aptitude for 
 it was not marked, he resolved to master the elements, 
 and succeeded so that he could execute scientifically 
 on the piano the choice tunes which alone he was 
 wilUng to play. In college, he disliked the mathe- 
 matics ; but, after his graduation, his circumstances 
 requiring him to keep school, he went to Charlestown, 
 N.H., and, being put in charge of a set of bright 
 pupils more accomplished in figures than himself, by 
 study, early and late, he came to distance them, as 
 theii* teacher kept steadily in advance, and ever after- 
 wards showed a fondness for this department of know- 
 ledge, and a special ability for lucid description of 
 machinery, and exposition of the laws of forces, in 
 beautiful speech. In the ten years after his leaving 
 the imiversity, his information widened on all matters 
 into a surprising variety, accuracy, and extent. He 
 gained gradually, but never lost. In history, general 
 literatm-e, and the Greek language, he was an accom- 
 plished scholar ; and seemed to inherit the taste of his 
 grandfather, the honored President of Harvard Uni- 
 versity. Under his sober mien was hidden a wit too, 
 a perception of the ludicrous and quiet humor, so un- 
 obtrusive and kept in the background, that few but 
 those nearest him would suspect its existence. 
 
19: 
 
 His moral habits, however, were his charm and 
 crown. He was inm-ed to self-sacrifice. A Christian 
 soldier, he bore the cross with the sword. In frame a 
 giant, he was in gentleness a child. I was often 
 struck with the mild voice from that ample chest, the 
 sweet look in those powerful features, the soft plant- 
 ing of that vigorous step ; and all who looked on him 
 must have observed the nobility of expression that stood 
 not m contrast, but correspondence with that lofty sta- 
 ture. His self-control was no natural gift, but a vktue 
 resolutely acquked over a temper threatenmg at the 
 outset to be impetuous and warm. Those who knew 
 him best cannot recall a deviation from the strictest m- 
 tegrity, a failure from the highest generosity, or a taint 
 on his entke sanctity. Into his complete manhood he 
 confided, let me tell you, children, as a child m his 
 parents ; and his parents had occasion only to trust 
 him. All domestic affection in him was most lively 
 and strong. A cherished member, as he was, of this 
 church, I caU gratefully to mind the emphatic appro- 
 bation, which, from his large soul, he gave to its open 
 communion. He was an earnest antislavery man. 
 Slavery was abhorrent to every sentiment of his nature ; 
 and his ashes would reprove me if I had not chosen 
 to-day a theme consonant with his convictions. Has 
 not he, whose body lay lifeless and cold yesterday at 
 this altar, a right, out of his silence, to speak in my 
 voice ? 
 
20 
 
 Such was the person whose life has just ended in the 
 late rebel snare for our slaughter, not war, at Frede- 
 ricksburg. At the southerly side of the town, on an 
 extended plateau, at the end of which rose the side 
 of a slopmg hill, — on whose crest stood the first line of 
 the rebel batteries, and their uifantry in rifle-pits be- 
 low, — he, marching on foot in front of the advancing 
 regimental line, without badge of distinction, waved 
 his sword, and called his men. " Come on, boys ! 
 remember South Mountain and Antietam ! " in which 
 battles, bemg on duty elsewhere, he had not been per- 
 sonally engaged. Half over the plain, a Minie-ball 
 struck the steel vest he had on as a token from Col. 
 Wild, — and would not have worn of his own accord, 
 previously in a sku'mish ha\dng carried it on his sad- 
 dle, — became flattened, glanced off", and entered the 
 groin. He fell on his face, soon tui-ned slowly over, 
 said, "My God, I am shot!" was taken at once, by 
 friendly hands that would not leave him, to the rear, 
 and thence to the hospital, where he died the 14th of 
 December, the fii'st day of the week, the day of the 
 resurrection, of worship and prayer, soon after our 
 last Smiday-moming gathering here was dispersed. 
 Lieut.-Col. Pratt writes, " He died calm and easy, like 
 a person gomg to sleep ; and was sensible to the last. 
 He was a brave, noble man, and a good commander ; 
 and his loss to the regiment, I fear, will never be 
 filled. God grant that we may all be as well prepared 
 
21 
 
 as he was to lay down his life for his country ! " God 
 grant, let us add, that a sacrifice so spotless and so 
 great may be sanctified to that salvation of the country 
 it Avas made for, and which will reconcile to it those 
 dear to him ; that we may he willing to pay the cost 
 for which the Most High yet holds out his hand ; that 
 our hope and faith and courageous zeal may never 
 fail, precious and unblemished as may be the selections 
 from the flock demanded for the atonement of our sin, 
 or however long our trial may last, before He, who 
 suspends all human fortunes on the beam of his justice, 
 and receives to heavenly recompense the souls of the 
 faithful, shall decree our national redemption and re- 
 lease ! His orderhig will be right and sure. There is 
 no chance bullet to him, and no pure error. Every 
 drop of blood, even ui what seems, humanly consi- 
 dered, such carnage to no end as that on the Rappa- 
 hannock, though spilt as water on the ground, he 
 shall gather up, and make precious, tiU the sum is 
 full and oiu' ransom is bought. 
 
 But Ave have obligations ; and they are conditions, 
 appointed terms, of our deliverance. From Him, that 
 sat of old as a refiner to piu:ify the sons of Levi, the 
 hour to try this people, and each individual soul's loy- 
 alty to the Avhole, has come. I feel a solemn joy, 
 that, as a body, we have not been Avanting to the time. 
 Many of you have paid tribute unspeakably dear. 
 You have not kept back your OAvn flesh and blood, 
 
22 
 
 when it was part of the price of the land. With some, 
 not of our number, the query has arisen, whether the 
 youth of this society have not been phed with too 
 much urgency, and spiuTcd m over-hasty numbers, to 
 the pubhc service. But, express regret who will, as 
 at an excess of our zeal, from you, who have made 
 oflFerings to comitry, liberty, and God, I have heard 
 no regret. You, who have laid your sons on a nobler 
 altar than Abraham built, have not asked to take them 
 back. You, for whom the knell has struck, whose chil- 
 dren are dead, or have been wounded, or are still ex- 
 posed, would not withdiaw them. Your hour of agony 
 has come : theu's, perhaps, has gone. But, in what- 
 ever paui or grief, you know that you not only give 
 them : they go themselves to the shrine of patriotic 
 work and religious faith that is reared for them by 
 the Almighty Father on the earth to-day. What re- 
 mains for us all, but to live up to the value of their 
 blood, whether it still flow or have ebbed in anguish 
 away, remembering God's faithfulness, remembering 
 Christ's promise of triumph to those who should follow 
 him m the regeneration for which he was sent, and 
 remembering that now or never, far as mortal vision 
 can reach, after long degeneracy to a pitch of political 
 corruption, the regenerating hour for this nation has 
 indeed come ? As with Jesus, may it have come for 
 us, not only to suffer, but be glorified ! 
 
23 
 
 NOTE. 
 
 As the author of the discourse has said one regretful word of the 
 attack on Fredericksburg, he cannot refrain from expressing his 
 admiration for the "svhole spirit and motive of the war, as con- 
 ducted on the loyal side. The perseverance of this quiet, sober, 
 and, save in healthy argument, uncontentious tribe of the North- 
 erly and Westerly States, to handle the carnal weapons they are 
 so unused to, Avhich are more fit and warm in the hands of a 
 relatively barbarous society, can be born of nothing but the right- 
 eousness of their cause. Only this can explain the Avondrous 
 spectacle of New England, New Yoi'k, Ohio, Illinois, and the rest 
 of the Free States, turned from an abode of husbandmen, herds- 
 men, shop-keepers, and sailors, into a blazing battery, manned 
 ever anew with ranks of volunteers, — sometimes scholars, law- 
 yers, merchants, ministers, farmers, — ready to take the place of 
 the dead. We are not discouraged, and will not be. Never from 
 a worthier people, for a better cause, did a nobler soldiery come ; 
 needing only the leading of political Avisdom and military genius 
 to accomplish any success, and build up the empire of Freedom 
 for all time. 
 
 It is sometimes reproachfully said, that our defenders are less 
 in earnest than the insurgents. Let me ansAver, that the earnest- 
 ness is not on both sides the same, but difterent in kind. The 
 earnestness of a party of travellers is not the same as that of the 
 band of robbers by whom they are assailed. The earnestness 
 of an inspiration does not resemble that of a conspiracy^ but Avill 
 
24 
 
 outlast and put it down. The earnestness of cajjital offenders 
 against the Constitution and laws, who feel or fear their fortunes 
 and heads are in danger of confiscation and the gibbet, and who 
 have no alternative but rule or ruin, is not that of those Avho feel 
 strong and superior in their position ; who are loath to strike back 
 as they are malignantly smitten ; who fear to alienate those they 
 would recover and reconcile ; who are weakened with tenderness 
 for the neutral and wavering, and led by inclination to temper ven- 
 geance itself with the mercy which traitors avail themselves of 
 freely, and are so little apt to return. Besides, let us not be un- 
 thankful to God, that an uncivilized, half-savage society does take 
 to blows more readily, and is better at them at the outset, than 
 those who have heretofore habitually aimed at distinction, not in 
 duelling, street affrays, border disputes, and filibustering expedi- 
 tions, but in learning and science, youthful education, gentle man- 
 ners, industry of agriculture, trade, fisheries, factories, and the 
 mechanic arts. These are the things to which our heart and 
 strength have gone. Many incidents could be related, showing 
 the gentle and peaceful temper in which we maintain the conflict. 
 A noble "Western mother Avrites to me, " My army-boy is of a 
 tender heart, and shooting people goes hard with him. He has 
 carried his knapsack eighteen months, and it has made my back 
 lame." Yet, though it is the wrath of the lamb against the tiger, 
 let us still remember the sentence of Revelation, that the wrath of 
 the Lamh shall prevail, and the mighty call on the mountains and 
 rocks to fall on them, and liide them from it. Therefore let no 
 sentiments be possible to us in this contest but of good cheer and 
 faith. Let us fear nothing but drifting away from the principles 
 the Pilgrims brought, and for Avhich they and their children bled. 
 Let us live in vision and inspiration from a hope of what this Na- 
 tion, in a fresh fidelity to them, may become. Let us labor and 
 suffer together for her sake, knowing that we share a common 
 fortune ; that the hour of one is the hour of all ; the interest of 
 one, the interest of all ; the duty of one, the duty of all ; and the 
 emancipation of each one, only in the emancipation of all. 
 
25 
 
 It is not for the sake alone of our brother departed, whose me- 
 morial is pure, that we bear such abundant witness respecting him, 
 and the cause for Avhich he lived and died, but in the hope of a 
 public benefit among his fellow-citizens and fellow-soldiers wher- 
 ever our testimony may reach. The youth especially of our com- 
 munity may derive benefit from the contemplation of an example, 
 itself formed on no lower aim than to unfold in entire integrity 
 every power of body and soul. We learn from one of his com- 
 panions at school and in college, — whose name would make his 
 words everywhere of weight, — that Sidney's character was fash- 
 ioned, from the first, on principles established by deliberate reflec- 
 tion ; and that he did not, like most young men, allow his views to 
 be determined by accident or the pattern set by those around him. 
 Instead of being himself as clay to be moulded by external influ- 
 ences, he adapted circumstances to his own lofty purpose, and 
 made, of all things earthly, building matei-ials for the structure, 
 somewhere still standing, after his moral design. Of his extreme 
 tenderness of conscience, a token is fresh in the writer's mind. 
 Some conversation having arisen respecting slavery at the South, 
 I said to him, " Yet social and legal justice is not done to the 
 African, even at the North ; " the mournful motion of his head, 
 in assenting to which, I can never forget. At every point, his 
 truthful feeling bore the test. May such be the style of the rising 
 generation in our land ! So God will be with us as with our 
 fathers. 
 
27 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 The foregoing discourse — published at the request of a 
 number of gentlemen of the West Church — gives an op- 
 portunity of adding some memoranda, furnished in sub- 
 stance by a friend, touching the brief military career of 
 Major Willard before he entered the army ; together with 
 some extracts from his letters to different members of his 
 family, showing his affectionate character, his spirit of 
 enthusiasm, his patriotism and zeal, and his vein of quiet 
 humor. 
 
 He possessed, perhaps to an unusual degree, the capa- 
 city of governing and influencing men. This became very 
 manifest in the large number of men he disciplined for the 
 war, — officers by the score, and privates many hundred. 
 In particular may be named the " Washington Home 
 Guard of Cambridge," — a corps of various ages, taken 
 from the different walks of life, and including many his 
 seniors, and several of the learned professions. This corps 
 was formed partly for drill and discipline, and partly to 
 infuse a martial spirit in the community, which would find 
 its appropriate response whenever the country should call 
 for their service in the field. 
 
 At first, he Avas known in person to a few only of the 
 Guard ; but his reputation as an accomplished instructor 
 
28 
 
 had preceded him, and he was invited to take charge of 
 the corps. He accepted the invitation. A cordial union 
 and sympathy soon grew up between instructor and pu- 
 pils, and widened and deepened day by day. He was soon 
 chosen to the command, and continued with them until he 
 left for the war. 
 
 His competence for the command was unquestioned ; 
 and the strict discipline which he exacted was submitted 
 to with pleasure, — a free tribute of respect to the man 
 and officer. 
 
 This was shown when they appeared in public, as at the 
 dedication of a building for the Guard ; an account of 
 which was published at the time in the " Cambridge Chro- 
 nicle." Several distinguished persons were present by 
 invitation, and" the hall was crowded with the ladies and 
 gentlemen of Cambridge. 
 
 After a public parade of the Guard under the command 
 of Major Willard, on returning to the hall, the President of 
 the Guard * called upon him to respond in behalf of his 
 command. 
 
 He spoke in a clear, earnest, and deliberate manner of 
 the relations between the duties of the citizens and the 
 soldiers ; of the present condition of our country, and the 
 wonderful manner in which our citizens had shown their 
 aptness for all the duties and requirements of good soldiers ; 
 and expressed his confident belief, that, with such an army 
 properly disciplined, victory and success to our arms were 
 sure. 
 
 Of the meagre report of his remarks, the following is all 
 that space admits of being copied : " He said it was some- 
 times difficult to determine where liberty should end, and 
 
 • Hon. Emorv Washburn. 
 
29 
 
 obedience commence. The rules which prevail among 
 military men are those which the good sense of mankind 
 has transmitted after ages of experience. Discipline can 
 be enforced in such a manner as to be easy to all concerned, 
 and to command the most cheerful obedience. There had 
 been an effort in the French army to make each company 
 able to support itself. Each had its baker and its cook, 
 who were ready to act when circumstances required their 
 services. But in no army in the world was there more 
 ability to support itself than in the Sixth and Eighth Massa- 
 chusetts Regiments ; and this was shown in their passage 
 through Baltimore. When sailors were wanted from the 
 ranks of the volunteers, the county of Essex furnished 
 them ; and the counties of Worcester and Middlesex were 
 not behind-hand : they were all able to* take care of 
 themselves. What the soldiers of Massachusetts wanted 
 was discipline ; and, with it, he thought no soldiers in 
 the world excel them with their ready and cheerful obe- 
 dience. 
 
 "In our State, there were a hundred and fifty-seven 
 thousand men liable to military duty. With twenty-five 
 thousand of these men properly disciplined, instead of 
 stopping at Washington at the opening of the Rebellion, 
 they would have marched directly to Richmond." 
 
 This was in May, 1861 ; and the united testimony of 
 every competent general in our army since that time has 
 fully justified the view here expressed. 
 
 On the evening of Aug. 19, just before his departure for 
 the seat of war, the Home Guard, desiring to manifest their 
 personal respect for their late commander and associate by 
 some sensible token, took the opportunity of the last even- 
 ing when he could be present at their drill, in presence of 
 the Guard and many invited friends, to present him a beau- 
 
30 
 
 tiful military sash and a handsome silver pitcher, upon the 
 latter of which was the following inscription ; viz. : — 
 
 THE 
 
 WASHINGTON HOME GUARD 
 
 TO 
 
 CAPT. SIDNEY WILLAKD, 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, 
 
 Aug. 19, 1862. 
 
 The presentation was made in a very touching manner 
 by the President of the Guard, and in terms expressive of 
 the warm affection and respect they entertained for him. 
 Capt. Willard was sensibly moved by this very hearty 
 and unexpected manifestation. He responded gracefully 
 and with much feeling. It is now a subject of regret, that 
 his remarks were not preserved. 
 
 His commission as captain in the Thirty-fifth Regiment 
 of Massachusetts Volunteers bears date Aug. 13 last. He 
 left for the seat of war on Friday, Aug. 22 ; the regiment 
 numbering a thousand and twenty-five strong, and com- 
 posed largely of the stalworth yeomanry of Essex, Middle- 
 sex, and Norfolk, — a thoroughly Massachusetts regiment. 
 On the 27th of August, he was promoted to a majority. 
 
 Extracts from Major Willard^s Letters, 
 
 Aug. 25 — Dec. 12. 
 
 Aug. 25, 18G2, near "Washington. — "We camped in the open 
 field all night. ... It is just like camping out in the middle of 
 Brighton Road when it is hottest and dustiest. I am well and 
 jolly, except wlien I think of you all ; and then the thought that 
 I am trying to do my duty is consolation ample. . . . Most truly 
 your loving son." 
 
31 
 
 Aug. 28, Arlington Heights. — "Our men are just getting a 
 notion of loading and firing. "We have had rumors of the defeat 
 of Pope, Sigel, &c., but nothing authentic. We can tell literally 
 nothing here about the movements of the armies. Regiments 
 come and go : their tents whiten the hillside one day, and are 
 gone the next. ... I hope that the Thirty-fifth will soon prove 
 itself an excellent regiment." 
 
 Sept. 2, Arlington Heights. — "I shall ever love you as I 
 have done, not in very demonstrative mode perchance, but yet 
 better than you think ; and, while I live, you know that you have 
 some one to depend on, to help and assist you. I hope, God 
 willing, after this accursed Rebellion is put down, to return to old 
 Massachusetts ; and, a better and more energetic man, to make 
 my way, so that I can aid in other ways than mere words." 
 
 Sept. 3, Arlington Heights. — " Your letter and S.'s came 
 safely ; and I enjoyed them most exceedingly. They brought a 
 taste of home to me that was delicious amid all this noise, bustle, 
 
 dirt, and fierce energy. . . . needs some one to help her ; 
 
 and of whom can I ask sympathy, in such case, but you, dear 
 
 , who have helped me and assisted me in every way ? I have 
 
 had the appointment of Major to the regiment. . . . Pray, who, 
 if any one, made representations to the Governor ? If you know, 
 please let me know. The promotion is rapid enough to satisfy the 
 most exacting ; and I shall try to fill the post thoroughly, and hope 
 to, all but the blessed horse. My kingdom if there Avasn't a 
 horse ! " * 
 
 Sept. 4, Arlington Heights. — ..." We are still in camp ; 
 and are likely to remain, as far as I can judge, in the same place. 
 This is our third remove, near Hunter's Chapel, on the great road 
 from the end of Long Bridge to Fairfax Court House, about two 
 miles from the bridge. . . . We are in full view of Fort Craig, 
 some little distance to the north of us, with many regiments near 
 us, and the whole of Pope's army distributed along our front. We 
 have heard firing, and have sent out pickets, dug rifle-pits, and 
 stood guard and drilled, but have as yet not encountered any 
 
 * Reasonably enough, perhaps; for, in all his life, he had never mounted a 
 horse but twice, — once only riding a few rods, when a schoolboy; and a second 
 time taking a short ride when in college. 
 
32 
 
 euemy ; and, to judge from the snoring of the officer in the next 
 tent, he, for one, hath not the fear of Johnny Rebel before his 
 soul." 
 
 Sept. 9, Brookville, Md., twenty miles north-west of Washing- 
 ton. — " We have left at Arlington Heights all our baggage and 
 tents, and have been turning in in the open air." 
 
 Sept. 13, Washington. — . . . "We broke camp at Arlington 
 Heights last Saturday night. . . . Every thing left at Arling- 
 ton Heights, only what we could carry on our backs, besides the 
 sixty rounds of ball-cartridges. Tuesday night, we were at a 
 little town called Brookville, about ten miles north of Rockville ; 
 and have been brigaded with the Twenty-first Massachusetts and 
 two other regiments, with Col. Ferraro, a Pennsylvania man, act- 
 ing brigadier, in Sturgis's division, Reno's corps, and Burnside's 
 army. . . . On Wednesday morning, the colonel ordered me to 
 take one of our wagons which was broken, go to Washington, get 
 it mended ; go to Arlington Heights, break up our camp there ; 
 turn back to United-States Q. M. Thomas the two hundred 
 and fifty tents ; collect the thousand knapsacks and the officers' 
 trunks, find a place of storage in Washington ; send thirty or forty 
 sick men, who were left in camp, to Alexandria ; collect the gims, 
 get all the equipments, belonging to the regiment ; and bring back 
 to the regiment upwards of seventy well men, with a wagon-load 
 of hospital-stores, baggage, &c. ; and find the regiment, which, I 
 suppose, Avill have moved forty miles at least from Brookville 
 before I rejoin it. Besides this, I have to finish my being sworn 
 in ; to procure a horse ; to fill about three hundred small commis- 
 sions, which the officers, learning that I was going to camp and 
 should have control of the baggage, intrusted me with ; see to the 
 mail ; and, in short, clean up all that had been left loose. So I 
 set out from Brookville, Wednesday, at three, p.m., and walked 
 and rode into Washington ; where I arrived at nine, p.m. 
 
 " Your letters all came in a bunch ; and I had a splendid time 
 reading them." 
 
 He describes, at some length, the difficulties and delays in doing 
 business at Washington. He succeeded at last in accomplishing 
 the business of the regiment, jturchasing a horse and a major's 
 equipments, and set out for camp ; bidding adieu to some near 
 and hospitable relatives, who had given him the most cordial recep- 
 tion. 
 
33 
 
 Sept. 18, WashiDgtOD. — ..." I sent the detachment off 
 Tuesday evening to rejoin the regiment, and must folloAv just as 
 soon as I can. I have received all letters and parcels so far, and 
 am most exceedingly obliged to all dear ones at home for them. 
 . . . My regiment is perhaps seventy miles distant, — a long way 
 in this hehothered State. The great thing which I regret in stay- 
 ing here in Washington on regiment business is, that my regiment 
 may have been engaged in the fighting, and I not there, — a source 
 of great trouble and regret to me. I shall go to them just as soon 
 as I can." 
 
 Sept. 19, Friday evening, Washington. — " I shall start at nine, 
 to-morrow morning, on my new steed, for my regiment. I have 
 a heavy load of letters, blankets, &c. ; so that I shall hardly reach 
 Frederick before Sunday night. I shall travel the broad road 
 through Rockville, and right on to Frederick ; then hunt up my 
 regiment, whose whereabouts I don't know. 
 
 " I shall be very glad to get out of Washington, as the air is 
 very oppressive ; and I feel as if I was made of lead, — no life, no 
 strength. I have been working very hard in packing the baggage 
 of the regiment and executing my orders. 
 
 " There are many sad rumors and stories about friends in the 
 late battle, or series of battles ; * but I believe nothing till it is 
 authenticated beyond all manner of doubt. Our colonel is wounded ; 
 and I saw that Company I had had several wounded. I shall 
 
 soon know what damage was done. Meanwhile, dear , keep 
 
 up a good heart. I think things are beginning to turn for the 
 better, and that we have beaten the strength of the Rebellion, and 
 now bid fair to break its strength before long." 
 
 Sept. 19, Washington, Friday evening. — . . . " It has been a 
 cause of deep regret to me, that I was not present with my regi- 
 ment in any of these recent battles. I had fully counted on being 
 with them when they first faced the enemy ; and Avould have cheer- 
 fully foregone completing my mustering-in as Major, could I have 
 been present when they came under fire. . . . There are sad 
 reports here of the killed and wounded. . . . Col. Wild is badly 
 wounded in the left arm, and some familiar names of Company I f 
 appear in the list as wounded. I hope to be with the regiment 
 most earnestly before forty-eight hours shall elapse." 
 
 South Mountain and Antietam. t His own company. 
 
 5 
 
34 
 
 Sept. 21, Sunday niglit, Frederick, Md. — " Here I am in Fre- 
 derick, after two days of unequalled tribulation, and wear and tear 
 of the flesh. I have actually ridden from Washington here, forty- 
 two miles, since eleven, a.m., Saturday. ... I rode at a very 
 dignified pace out of Georgetown and towards Rockville. ... I 
 did not venture on a trot. I expected to bounce off as soon as the 
 beast tried that gait ; and luckily there Avas a hill to climb for 
 the first mile, and my luggage (nearly a hundred pounds), besides 
 iny own weight : so that he, though strong and spunky, did not 
 attempt any thing more than a Avalk. When I got some distance 
 away, I touched him Avith the spur, and impressed on his imagina- 
 tion that I wanted him to trot ; which he did. It is an awful pace, 
 not for speed, but for the amount of bounce thereby extracted from 
 the agonized human frame. I bore it as long as I could, then 
 reduced him to a walk again ; and so we Avent, alternately from 
 Avalk to trot, from trot to Avalk, till I had bumped through tAventy- 
 two miles, to a little cluster of houses called Gettysburg, Avhere I 
 stopped last night. 
 
 ..." I left there this morning, and have ridden for tAventy- 
 two miles through scenery which would delight mother's heart. 
 The Blue Ridge looms up magnificently ; and to-morroAv I must 
 cross it, and pass tAvo of those battle-fields Avhich have rendered 
 the last Aveek famous, and which I have just missed. Col. "Wild, 
 by ncAvspaper report, is badly Avounded in the left arm ; and, I 
 suppose, Lieut.-Col. Carruth is in command. I shall start for 
 Sharpsburg (twenty-two miles distant) to-morroAV morning, and 
 rejoin my regiment. 
 
 " I came into Frederick as the afternoon bells Avere ringing for 
 church ; and, for the moment, "Weston and Boston came back to 
 me ; and I Avished I could have been in old Massachusetts to enjoy 
 a NeAv-P3nglaud sabbath. 
 
 " I am safe and avcII, though much bumped. I had far rather 
 and easier walked it." 
 
 Sept. 22, Boonesborough, Md., Monday night. — . . . " I have 
 to-day, Avhile ou my Avay Irom Frederick hither (sixteen miles), 
 learned the fate of my regiment. "We have lost, in tAVO battles, 
 nearly every commissioned ofiicer, killed or Avounded. The colo- 
 nel's left arm is gone at the shoulder, and the lieutenant-colonel 
 is shot through the neck. Capt. Bartlett is killed, and Capts. 
 Andrews and Lathrop are the only ones fit for duty in the regi- 
 
35 
 
 rnent. I believe my men (I shall, till the lieutenant-colouel reco- 
 vers, be in command of the regiment) are not more than ten miles 
 distant ; and I hope to reach them to-morrow. 
 
 " But you can tell how sad a thing this loss of officers and men 
 (fifty-two killed, two hundred and five wounded) is ; one quarter- 
 part of the regiment gone, taking out the sick, and necessary 
 attendants. The thousand that marched up State Street, little 
 more than four Aveeks since, now number hardly more than six 
 hundred ; and I almost dread seeing the diminished ranks. 
 
 " The range of mountains which we stormed is huge ; and the 
 gorge through which I have been riding to-day, if its flanks were 
 protected, could be held against any force. The national road 
 runs through this pass in the mountains, and I have been travel- 
 ling upon it all day. 
 
 " The battle on Sunday, Sept. 14, was the most desperate one 
 of the war. Over a hundred thousand men were on each side, 
 with a line of battle nearly seven miles long, parallel Avith the 
 ridge ; which finally Ave stormed, and beat the Confederates back. 
 
 "My horse has carried me Avell. This is the third day, and I 
 am sixty-two miles from Washington." 
 
 Sept. 23, Tuesday morning. — . . . "I have seen a number of 
 wounded officers, my friends ; and they all say that the regiment 
 behaved nobly, stood their ground, and fired like men ; though, of 
 course, they could not manoeuvre, having had no opportunity to 
 drill. I stopped Avhere Col. Wild Avas staying in MiddletOAvn, the 
 other side of the mountains, eight miles back. He is getting on 
 sloAvly ; but surely, I hope. He was cheery and thoughtful, and 
 kind-hearted as ever. He insisted on my taking his armor-ACst ; 
 and Mrs. Wild fitted it for my use. I bade him good-by, and 
 set out about four, p.m., for this place, and crossed the Sunday's 
 battle mountain. The scenery Avas grand. Mother would delight 
 in its beauty, and in the glimpses of distant prospect the openings 
 of the gorges give. 
 
 "All the way along, I passed regiments marching toAvard the 
 front, and trains of empty Avagons returning ; and reached this place 
 about half-past six. 
 
 " I hear that a Major Wright has been placed temporarily in 
 command. I suppose, Avhen I return, that I shall take his place 
 at once. I shall do my best, and, when we go into battle, try to 
 do my duty." 
 
36 
 
 Sept. 26, Friday, three and a half miles from Sharpsburg. — 
 ..." I am well, and iu command of the regiment ; -which num- 
 bers about five hundred men. 
 
 ..." I am not astonished to-day that my horse has broken 
 down, and went limping along, as I expected would be the case, at 
 the head of the regiment, — a sight for gods and men to snicker 
 at. Infamous beast ! " 
 
 Sept. 27, Saturday night, three miles from Sharpsburg, near 
 the mouth of Antietam Creek, Md. — . . . "On the edge of a 
 ploughed field, the Avhole brigade close up in mass. We have no 
 good place to drill. I go through with dress-parades, &c., with 
 exceeding solemnity ; but the care and bother is no slight thing, 
 I have to do the best I can ; and the questions asked are very 
 numerous, and sometimes perplexing. 
 
 " The men are suffering severely from want of tents, and loss 
 of baggage ; and the very cold nights and heavy fogs, lasting till 
 nine in the morning, are increasing our sick-list." 
 
 Sunday, half-past eleven, a.m. — " But I think we shall begin 
 to improve now, both in health and spirits, as the shock of the last 
 battle wears off, and the salutary rules of discipline and cleanliness 
 are enforced. 
 
 " I am in Ferraro's brigade, Sturgis's division, Coxe's corps, 
 and Burnside's army. ... I am working with all my might on 
 the regiment ; and hope, in the course of the week, to get things 
 agoing systematically. You can hardly conceive what uphill Avork 
 it is. There are but three captains in the regiment, and every 
 thing has to be organized. Morning reports, accounts of the sick 
 and Avounded ; bothers innumerable about forage, commissary 
 stores, subsistence, &c. ; servants' attendance, regiments' wash- 
 sinks, guards, funds, sutlers, discipline, drill, details for different 
 duties, postage, losses in battle, and every thing else conceiv- 
 able. 
 
 " I did not think, when I left Boston and walked over to Lynn- 
 field, that I should be in command of the remnant of the regiment 
 in less than five weeks. ... It is hard work going on short- 
 handed, as Ave are noAv, l)oth in officers and men. We Avere 
 hurried aAvay from Washington, and took no baggage Avith us. 
 Officers and men are suffering for want of clothing. I have the 
 only tent in the regiment ; and it is a small A tent, seven by five, 
 and tapering so rapidly as to materially reduce the space. A truss 
 
37 
 
 of wheat-straw on one side of the tent is my bed ; ditto, on the 
 other side, belonging to the adjutant. A four-legged pine table 
 (setback against the tent-pole), a desk, one camp-stool, and my 
 saddle, constitute all the furniture." 
 
 Sept. 28, same camp, Sunday night. — . . . "I am beginning 
 to ai'range matters in the regiment ; and I can assure you all, the 
 task is no light one. . . . The horse is quite lame. I sJioulcl have 
 been disappointed, hadn't he done something of the kind. He is 
 coughing and sneezing and tramping round and muncliing hay 
 behind the tent at this moment. He eats most at night, — late sup- 
 pers ; and then stands, looking dyspeptic and used up all day, not 
 touching any thing. Didn't I tell you of Col. Wild's kind thought- 
 fulness, in the midst and despite of his pain and misery at Mid- 
 dletown, as I stopped to see him on my Avay to the regiment ? — how 
 he insisted, when he, by chance, learned that I did not own or 
 wear a steel vest, on my taking his ; and, as he sat in his chair, 
 gave directions to Mrs. Wild and myself, with the sorrowful mo- 
 tioning of that single arm, how we should arrange the steel-plate 
 in the vest, — the one which he wore when he was wounded at 
 South Mountain, Sunday. ... I am well and lively as I can be 
 out of old Massachusetts ; which, I am becoming more and more 
 convinced every day, is the only decent place, climate, soil, air, 
 water, &c., «S:c., to live in, in the Union. . . . 
 
 " You can have no notion of the dirt of the regiment. I passed 
 a ukase this morning, which compelled a general scrubbing of 
 clothes and persons. They had some excuse, as there is but one 
 suit of clothes to each man ; and, when he Avashes his shirt, he 
 has to go without till it dries. Ditto the beloved commander ! " 
 
 Oct. 2, near the mouth of the Antietam. — . . . "I have a 
 compliment from Charles G. Loring, who is lieutenant-colonel and 
 inspector-general on Burnside's staff. He said the camp of my 
 regiment was far the neatest in the brigade. ... I have seen and 
 been introduced to Burnside. ... I have intense satisfaction in 
 my position as commander, for two reasons, — it enables me to 
 enforce cleanliness and prohibit swearing ; which last I have 
 checked to a considerable extent, — to a degree which I never 
 thought I should be able to. 
 
 " We are in camp, guarding the entrance to Maryland. . . . 
 How soon we move, or how soon we fight, I do not know." 
 
 He states that the regiment was for Pleasant Valley, six miles 
 
38 
 
 from Antietam, by the river aud railroad, near Harper's Ferry, 
 between South-Mountain range and a little spur north-west of 
 South Mountain. 
 
 Oct. 3, Antietam. — "I have had a somewhat exciting day of 
 it. Last night, as I was writing, about one, a.m., the General's 
 orderly poked his nose into my tent, and delivered me an order to 
 the effect that the President, Gens. McClellan, Burnside, &c., 
 would review the corps to-day at eight, a.m. As soon as the tent- 
 flaps closed, and the sound of the retreating footsteps died away 
 in the distance on their road to the Fifty-first New York, I grasped 
 ' Army Regulations,' and refreshed my ideas on that important 
 subject. I crammed the whole thing, — opening ranks, colors 
 waving, swords poising, bands playing, &c., &c., — and then 
 crawled upon my pallet of straw, and Avent to the land of Nod 
 directly. That awful reveille started me into full life and vigor at 
 half-past five ; and minus breakfast, at half-past seven, with bat- 
 talion formed, but horseless, I marched my six hundred on after 
 the other regiments. We marched by the right flank into the 
 field, and came on the right by files into line ; and then ordered 
 arms, and waited for tlie other brigades to take their places. We 
 kept our place till about ten ; when a salute from the guns an- 
 nounced the President and staflT. They rode rapidly by, the 
 President bareheaded, Burnside on his right, McClellan imme- 
 diately behind, aud a large cortege of horsemen following in front 
 of and behind each line. As I stood eight paces in front of my 
 regiment, the President passed within half a dozen feet of me ; 
 but all the study of the elaborate review, the passing before the 
 reviewing-oflicer, the saluting, &c., &c., was entirely omitted. 
 We stood like statues ; I with my long sabre sticking up above 
 my shoulder, and my men at shoulder arms, unmoved, while Pre- 
 sident, generals &c., &c., passed. We then closed ranks, and 
 marched from the field." 
 
 Oct. 12, Pleasant Valley. — He wa-ites that the Lieut.-Col. 
 had returned, and relieved him from the command of the regi- 
 ment, to his great joy ; so that the Major (Col. Wild still being 
 absent) became again acting Lieut.-Col. Of the march he 
 writes : — 
 
 " On Tuesday (Oct. 7), we broke camp at day-dawn, and soon 
 after started towards Pleasant Valley, — a most beautiful intervale 
 between two ridges of high liills. We marched south-east, and 
 
39 
 
 through by-roads and mountain-paths, across the gap in Elk Moun- 
 tain. The climb was a great one, and the view exceedingly- 
 beautiful. My horse was full of life and spirits, and evinced his 
 light-heartedness by his light-heeledness ; and kicked the adjutant's 
 horse, to the adjutant's intense wrath. I got along very Avell, ex- 
 cept that he (the horse) required the whole road to himself. . . . 
 C. W. Loring and Patrick Jackson called ; and I went over to see 
 them at Burnside's head-quarters, which are about a mile distant, 
 on the steep side of South Mountain, commanding a most superb 
 view of the whole valley, and Loudon Heights, which overlook 
 Harper's Ferry, and upon which they are cutting and bux'uing off 
 the woods to clear the way for the guns of the new defences." 
 
 The inevitable horse still troubles him. " I wish," he says, 
 " Uncle Sam would allow his majors to walk. The horse has 
 passed the largest part of his valuable existence, since I became 
 his imwilling owner, tied to a stake back of my tent, where I can 
 distinctly hear every sneeze and cough, every motion, of the 
 quadruped. . . . Nature never intended me for a horseman. I 
 hate the beasts. . . . For five weeks, our men ' have fought, 
 marched, dug, slept, ate, and camped out in the same clothes,' 
 having but one suit." He describes his great relief since the 
 return of the Lieut.-Col. He is willing to bear his own share, 
 and more ; " but it is hard to do three men's Avork, and get 
 blown up for six," and " to tread with the greatest caution, lest 
 you come upon the military, gouty toes of some precise old tacti- 
 cian, who roars in wrath at the slightest error in your course of 
 proceeding. ... If I live to come back, it won't be for want 
 of all sorts of training that I am not evenly developed, body and 
 mind." 
 
 Pleasant Valley, Sunday, Oct. 19. — During the previous Aveek, 
 he had been quite ill, and was so up to the end of the month, 
 barely escaping a severe fever ; for fever he had, being entirely unfit 
 for duty. Perhaps it was his iron constitution, which, under God, 
 saved him in his peril. While lying in his tent, very ill, " I could 
 clearly hear," he says, "• all the signals and calls, and all the 
 music ; in fact, all that, in the way of instrumental sounds. Uncle 
 Samuel or private regimental pride had furnished to full thirty 
 thousand men. I like music in moderation ; but fancy the awful 
 racket of half a dozen different bands, each playing in utter indif- 
 ference to the other ! — some psalm-tunes, some polkas ; some one 
 
40 
 
 thing, some another ; then throw in the calls of full two hundred 
 bugles, tooted in every conceivable style, and an accompaniment 
 of bass-drums ambitiously banging, unable to keep up, but sticking 
 to it heroically. Such are the sounds of Pleasant Valley." The 
 shelter-tents are described by him : a rather severe joke, by 
 the way, to call them shelter-tents ; being open at both ends. It 
 was very cold in Pleasant Valley. The mist fills it " level with 
 the tops of the skirting ridges, and buries our camp six hundred 
 feet deep in fog ; and it takes the sun usually till noon to poke us 
 out." The comfortable weather was passing aAvay. " The men 
 shiver, and appear blanketed and great-coated both at reveille and 
 roll-call. No wonder. Almost every one would shiver to be com- 
 pelled at half-past five, a.m., this season, to turn out upon the 
 sidewalk, Avitli ninety-seven other fellow-shiverers, and answer to 
 his own name." 
 
 Oct. 2'2, AYednesday morning. — The Major had visited his 
 dear friend, the surgeon of the Twelfth. He crossed the mountain, 
 " and went through Sharpsburg, where the battle was. The 
 houses and churches are scarred with shot and shell. ... I dis- 
 mounted, and walked into his quarters with him ; and comfortable 
 enough he was. He had a fireplace in one corner of the tent, 
 with a bright fire in it, looking most homelike, made by digging a 
 trench from one corner of the tent, covering it with flat stones 
 (which make the flue), and putting two barrels on the end of it as a 
 chimney ; . . . making a very comfortable firejjlace. I intend 
 making one at once in my tent ; for the weather now is very cold 
 at night, and the days are very windy, blowing a gale, covering 
 every thing with dust, and half taking the tent bodily off. . . . M. 
 and I both agree that a soldier's life and campaigning are beasthj ; 
 and {]icy are ! The officers suffer for food much more than 
 the men. Tlie latter have their regular rations ; but the oflicers 
 are obliged to forage as best they may." 
 
 Oct. 31, near "Wheatland, Va., on road to Leesburg, about 
 twelve miles south of the Potomac, he writes : — 
 
 "The regiment left Pleasant Valley, Monday (Oct. 27), and 
 marched to near Wheatland, — a blustering, cold, windy day." 
 He suffered much from the Avant of thick under-clothing, his 
 trunk having been rifled between Washington and his camp ; and, 
 having to sleep all night on the ground, he was still in danger of 
 the fever. The Lieut.-Col. was taken down with cold and fever. 
 
41 
 
 and was left behind (Oct. 27) ; and the Major was again in com- 
 mand. The regiment crossed the Potomac at Berlin, waded under 
 the culvert of the canal in the water, and encamped in a field. He 
 had to sleep all of the night of Monday on the ground, in the open 
 air ; his blankets being on the wagon, and not coming up till the 
 next day. He supped on hard bread and a piece of cheese one 
 unprotected night. He shivered through the night, was sick, and 
 was the next day on his back till his tent arrived. Oct. 29, 
 mai'ched southerly about five miles, and camped out in an open field. 
 Oct. 30. — Ordered to march, at sunrise, five miles, to AVheat- 
 land, — " the loveliest spot I have been in since I came out. Tents 
 in the midst of a grove, on a little ridge, above a brook which 
 skirts the base : the trees protect us from the wind." There the 
 encampment was a protected one. He was fortunate in getting 
 some supplies ; and, the Lieut.-Col. having come up, he felt much 
 relieved. " We are making a short campaign ; and may. see some 
 fighting before the rainy season sets in, now about three weeks. 
 There is a talk of our going to Newbern with Burnside ; but every 
 thing is utterly uncertain." 
 
 Same, Nov. 1, — He is writing on the ground, and then on a 
 stump. On the 10th November, near Jefferson, he finishes the 
 letter. " We have been marching incessantly since the first date ; 
 had snow-storms ; slept tentless about the whole time ; had salt 
 pork, raw ; hard bread, and coffee sugarless, Avhere we could get it, 
 and thankful for it. Oh ! it's jolly campaigning in the winter ; 
 turning into a potato-field, in a driving snow-storm, to sleep. . . . 
 I think that we shall see a fight soon. The rebels are close to 
 us ; and, while I write, the cannonading is incessant, I shall try 
 to do my duty like a man, when the time comes. I hope that J. 
 Avill not be drawn, or think of volunteering ; at least, at present. 
 Nothing but the strictest sense of duty should induce a man to 
 forego all the blessings of home. I appreciate them now as I 
 never did before ; and I hope to show that appreciation, if I live 
 to see all the dear ones at home once again." 
 
 Nov. 10, Jefferson, Va. — " Since leaving Pleasant Valley, we 
 have been constantly marching, except the three days we staid 
 near Wheatland. The weather has, in the main, been pleasant ; 
 but Ave have had two snow-storms, keen and cold, as if direct from 
 old Massachusetts, in one of which we were marched till nearly 
 eleven, p.m., on a wrong road, very aptly described by one of the 
 
42 
 
 men : ' It looked as if it had been gonged out by lightnin"-.' In 
 addition to the miseries of that ' triste nodie,' after marching five 
 miles in this blinding storm, and in these roads, which are mere 
 ditches in the face of the country, used as beds for brooks, witli 
 rivulets crossing them, leaA'ing puddles of water forty or fifty feet 
 wide and two or three feet deep, Ave found that the Rappahannock 
 and a broken bridge barred our progress. "We started about 
 four, r.M. ; and Avere stopped at about six, in the Avoods, as afore- 
 said. There Avas nothing to be done but to about-face three 
 thousand men, and march 'em back again. So Ave tramped back 
 through the puddles, swamp, and brooks, till about half Avay back 
 to our old camp-ground ; where, for some reason, they halted us 
 three-quarters of an hour, right in the teeth of this nor'Avester and 
 driving snoAv. I sat on my horse till I Avas nearly frozen. We 
 then marched about two miles farther ; and at eleven, p.m., halted 
 opposite a patch of Avoods, and Avere told to camp. At once the 
 men rushed among the trees Avith shouts ; rails Avere brought, sap- 
 lings cut doAvn, and roaring fires built. Field and stafi" — to wit, 
 the Lieut.-Col., Major, Adjutant, doctors, &c. — had a large fire 
 kindled, and some pieces of shelter-tents put up to keep the AAnnd 
 off; scraped the snoAV-coAercd leaves aAvay, and spread blankets; 
 and, thankful for the warmth, went supperless to bed. That Avas 
 the hardest day we have had : but I can assure you, that for two 
 Aveeks, A\'ith an occasional interlude, our bed has been the nearest 
 field ; our coverlet, the starry or cloudy heavens ; our food, salt 
 pork, mostly raAv, when Ave could get it ; hard tack, and coffee 
 sugarless. I can eat raAv salt pork Avith any Christian in the land ; 
 and, Avhen I am lucky enough to secure it, I carry a pound or so 
 in my haversack Avith the hard bi-ead : but, alas ! I can't get a 
 fibre noAv." 
 
 "White Sulphur Springs, Nov. 13, Thursday. — " Last Tuesday, 
 at one, a.m., Ave found ourselves in advance of the Avliole army ; 
 and so far forAvard, that a retrograde of three or four miles Avas 
 determined on. . . . Our position here is a strong one. "We made 
 a night-march from Jefferson, and expected to hear a roAV in our 
 rear : but nothing disturbed the quiet of our march ; and, about 
 daybreak, Ave reached this place. . . I am Avell, save a cold ; and 
 as jolly as I can be in a mode of life Avhich brings a man down 
 to caring mostly for a good meal and a comfortable night's sleep. 
 Of course, 1 do not put out of sight the heroism and bravery ex- 
 
43 
 
 hibited, and the patriotism ; but the daily recurring thought is, 
 How shall I get enough to eat ? and, I hope we shall have a good 
 camp-ground to-night." 
 
 Nov. 13, White Sulphur Springs. — "The climate is as cold 
 here as in Massachusetts in November ; . . . making your bed at 
 dark in a field ; heaping up a fence-rail fire ; . . . then gathering 
 leaves, putting your rubber blanket on them, and wrapping the 
 woollen blanket about you, to wake in the morning Avitli the frost- 
 rime on the end of your nose, the fire burnt out to white ashes 
 and black cinders ; fire rekindled, breakfast a facsimile of the 
 supper, and then the order to pack up and march ; face washed by 
 pouring a canteen of water on your hands, and fall into place ; and 
 off we go for another day's march, with the prospect of a fight at 
 any instant ; the heavy thud of cannon in the distance. 
 
 ..." I have passed the last two Sundays, not quietly Avalking 
 down Hancock Street to church ; nor listening for that second bell, 
 the time for which my intellect never could grasp or retain. On 
 Tuesday, Nov. 11, we were the foremost of all, and a little too 
 much so for propriety. Our pickets had a fight within a mile and 
 a half of our lines ; and the enemy wex*e in force at Culpepper, 
 barely ten miles off." It Avas rumored that tlie brigade got out to 
 Jefferson without Burnside's being aware of it, and in pretty close 
 proximity to the enemy ; and, being discovered by a party sent to 
 reconnoitre, were ordered back to a safe place. 
 
 ..." Letters from home, telling of home-matters, are inde- 
 scribably welcome, and are the only real pleasure I have. You 
 all are ever with me in my thoughts." 
 
 Nov. 13. — He was again (and the third time) in command of 
 the regiment, much against his will ; " the Lieut.-Col., together 
 with the adjutant, having been taken prisoner while eating dinner 
 across the river at White Sulphur Springs." After leaving camp 
 on Aug. 22, he was in command about half the time ; and now he 
 remained in command till he fell. 
 
 Nov. 15, Saturday, he was, for the first time, under fire ; and 
 says, Nov. 16, " I don't think I either showed or felt the least fear. 
 The rebels shelled us ; and I had to march my regiment back 
 under the fire of our battery over our heads, and of the rebels 
 from a hill opposite, directly into us. A fragment of shell (so the 
 men said ; I thought it was dirt) struck the road, and bounced 
 right over my cap, about two feet above my head ; and shot and 
 
44 
 
 shell struck and whizzed about in all directions. The lieutenant 
 of the battery was killed, and an artillery-man had his arm torn 
 to pieces, besides wounded men in other regiments than ours. 
 We had one man badly Avounded in the leg. I was reading your 
 letter during the shelling, while my regiment was lying under 
 cover, and when that bit of dirt or iron, I don't know which, 
 bounced over my head. . . . Home-matters are Avhat I care for 
 in home-letters : they are indescribably pleasant. The beast is 
 well and rampageous. I hate him." 
 
 Nov. 17, near Warrenton Junction. — "I don't at all like to 
 be compelled to do duty which I did not agree to ; and this duty 
 Avas put on me with this warning : ' The Colonel wishes you to 
 take command of the camp, as he Avill be absent for about two 
 hours.' ... I occupied the house (where the Lieut.-Col. was 
 taken) all Thursday night ; bitter cold ; frost ; no fires allowed, 
 for fear of an attack. I Avalked about all night ; went the Avhole 
 round of the pickets, and line of skirmishers ; and then to the regi- 
 ment, which was lying in the fields, . . . under the cold light of 
 the moon, the frost whitening their blankets. 
 
 " I hate old Rampageous as much as ever. He is a snorting, 
 prancing, kicking, biting, uneasy nuisance, . . . and pulls up all 
 the stakes driven to tie him to : he pulls np all, except lai'ge trees 
 which have been growing for years." 
 
 Nov. 19, Opposite Fredericksburg. — "After sleeping in the 
 open air about tAvo weeks, we have made a short return to a 
 semi-civilized life ; that is, Ave dwell in tents. These are shelter- 
 tents, so called in delightful sarcastic plirasc ; reminding you 
 of a dog-kennel. Into that you creep on all- fours, and lie Avith 
 both ends sticking out, in case you are, a^ I am, six feet one. 
 
 " I am perfectly hardened, and used to Avaking up at midnight 
 to hear the grim voice of the General's orderly. . . . Let me give 
 you a picture, if possible, of our Avaking and march this morning. 
 We (that is, Walcott and myself) were sitting before my head- 
 quarters' fire, Avhen the orderly came and said, ' Start at six, 
 Major. Regiment Avill fall in punctually ; as you lead to-day. Gen- 
 eral says.' So off I pcstcd to my tent. ... I took my sleep 
 (what I could get) on a bundle of hay in my tent, and Avas duly 
 aroused by the reveille at four. I packed my blankets ; saw to the 
 proper saddling of old Rampageous, got him plenty of corn, and 
 had my tents struck in the midst of dire confusion. Our baggage- 
 
45 
 
 wagons were driving round in very lively style ; the six mules to each 
 other frequently and loudly expressing, in their sweet, musical way, 
 their delight at waking and working so early in the morning. The 
 mist was thicker than ever, and no sign yet of the dull, gray dawn. 
 The men were drying tents by the different camp-fires, cooking 
 their breakfasts, fixing their knapsacks, and getting ready generally. 
 The mist and smoke, the calls and shouts of three thousand men, 
 the noise of our awful brigade-band (which had waked up also), 
 made a row which is hard to describe. I ate my breakfost stand- 
 ing, — plateless, kuifeless, forklcss, and spoonless ; keeping guard 
 over old Rampageous, with a tin dipper of coffee in one hand, and 
 a sandwich of hard tack and beefsteak in the other, to prevent 
 one especially lively wagon and its six mules from cultivating an 
 improperly close acquaintance with him, Avhicli would result in 
 bites, kicks, and squeals, to the great detriment of my saddle and 
 blankets. 
 
 " The Avagon finally Avas loaded, and drove off. I finished 
 my breakfast. Still so dark, Avet, and foggy, that I could not see 
 half the length of the regiment. I mounted old Kampageous, and 
 gave my adjutant and sergeant-major orders to form the regiment 
 at once ; and as I sat on my horse, in front of the line, the sight 
 Avas a picturesque one, — the long, dark line of men sloAvly form- 
 ing, and becoming visible by the flickering blaze of the forest, in 
 front of Avhich they stood ; the glitter of the guns as they shone 
 for an instant ; the quiet, sharp orders of the ofllicers, folloAved by 
 the prompt movement of the dark and compact masses ; and, add 
 to all, the faint, Avet light of morning had begun to creep up on the 
 edge of the horizon. I gave the ' Attention, battalion ! shoulder 
 arms ! right face ! forAvard, march ! ' and Ave Avere off this time, to 
 halt just short of Fredericksburg, on the Avestern, or rather northern, 
 side of the river, . . . table-land, . . . and overlooking the city at 
 a distance of two miles. . . . We haA'e marched south along the 
 base of the Blue Ridge ; then turned to the left, and marched 
 here. We have been on the move for three Aveeks and tAvo days 
 quite steadily. We left Pleasant Valley ; marched along the 
 Potomac to Berlin ; crossed, camped ; then south through Lovetts- 
 ville, &c., to Amesville, Jefferson, White Sulphur Springs, Fay- 
 etteville, Warrenton Junction ; then straight here, — to Avit, a mile 
 from Falmouth, and near Fredericksbvu-g. AVe have zigzagged 
 over the country (particularly in our marches near the Blue 
 
46 
 
 Ridge) beyond all description ; but now we arc promised a two- 
 days' halt. 
 
 ..." I wish you, dear , the pleasantest Thanksgiving you 
 
 have ever had. I sliall, God willing, remember you all most lov- 
 ingly on that day ; and I know you will not forget me. . . . 
 Burnside means to push for Ilichmond ; in what way, I am sure 
 I can't tell or conjecture : but we shall have some very hard 
 Jightmcj^ I expect, within the next four weeks." 
 
 Nov. 28, camp off' Fredericksburg. — " We had a quiet 
 Thanksgiving, without any extra dinner, except an old goose and 
 four very diminutively small chickens. I thought of home as I sat 
 at the head of the mess-table (made, by the way, of cracker-boxes, 
 and clothless), and wished that I could fill my place, for a short 
 time at least, at home. But I have the consolation of knowing, 
 that, as I came because I ought, that same ' ought ' tvill keep me up 
 fairly to the mark. 
 
 " I have, at last, received letters here on the infamous soil of 
 Virginia. 
 
 "We have a large number of men here, — how large, I don't 
 know ; but, I suppose, about seventy thousand.* I wish there 
 were two hundred thousand men; and then — Richmond." 
 
 He is just for brigade drill ; never having drilled his regiment 
 with brigade. 
 
 Dec. 2, same camp. — "I hardly think I can make you a fit- 
 ting return for all your affectionate and Christian care of me, or 
 all your patient and loving waiting during my slow struggle to 
 work my way in life and gain a place among men. I hope, 
 if my life is spared to return, and Avith increased knowledge of 
 men, Avith an experience in rough, practical life of the greatest 
 value to me, and habit of prompt decision, with the attrition of 
 a lii'e as open and public as my former one Avas secluded and fastidi- 
 ous, to make my fortxuies more rapidly than earlier years fore- 
 boded." 
 
 He says that he is in Sumner's corps, Hooker in the centre 
 (both Massachusetts men), and Franklin on the left. " Hoav we 
 are to get to Riclimoiul," he says, "is the problem. If Ave go 
 straight by land, the rebels have the railroad direct from Rich- 
 mond to Fredericksl)urg, Avhich they will use to I'etreat on, and 
 
 * Perlinps one liundred and ten thousiuid, as by a subsequent letter. 
 
47 
 
 tear up as fast as we press them back, — leaving us to rebuild aud 
 follow as best we can over roads which are like brooks of 
 mud, floating the corduroy logs in a yellow stream (fifty miles 
 of such, with three or four good-sized rivers to fight our way 
 across, lie between us and Richmond) ; Avhile the route by sea will 
 avoid many of these difficulties, render transportation compara- 
 tively easy and safe, land us nearer the city, and not compel us 
 to guard an ever-increasing lengtli of line of communication." 
 He had always been entirely silent on the comparative merits of 
 the generals ; and now, being particularly reciuested by letter, 
 states his opinion. 
 
 Dec. 5, camp near the river, opposite the lower part of Fre- 
 dericksburg. His regiment just ordered " to the extreme left of 
 the army, to support Battery B of four pieces, second battalion, 
 New- York artillery, stationed on a range of hills overlooking the 
 river ; and the outermost part of the army in this direction, I 
 believe." 
 
 Dec. 6 and 7. — Left flank of army on hills overlooking Frede- 
 ricksburg. He states that wagons with supplies have arrived in 
 camp ; having been from eight, a.m., till four, p.m., in going three 
 miles. " It was a magnificent night" (Saturday, Dec. 6). " The 
 full moon lighted the snow, and the sparkle of the enemy's fires on 
 the hills across the river could be distinctly seen." . . . The Major 
 commanded, ranking the captain of the battery. He is on the ex- 
 treme left ; " unless they have removed some division down on the 
 other side of the woods, which, like a bow, sweep round the rear 
 of our camp." 
 
 Dec. 7, opposite the lower suburbs of Fredericksburg. — "Night ; 
 quiet till one, a.m. ; then I stump over the crusty snow in com- 
 pany with the officer of the day, whose duties also cover the night, 
 unless the rebels cross, and stir up my camp." He then gives a 
 vivid description of the scene on that bright moonlight night, and 
 the rebel camp-fires. " It is freezing in true New-England style, 
 and the weather is as genuine an importation from Massachusetts 
 as is our regiment. . . . My tramp to-night is to visit my pickets 
 and guards. I have guards stationed at each of the guns, which 
 peer Avatchfully through the embrasures of the half-moon in 
 Avhich they are placed. A cold time the sentinels have of it, 
 and the greatest vigilance is needful ; for a rat-tail file aud a tap 
 with a hammer would render useless in a moment a superb piece 
 
48 
 
 of ordiiant'e. I dou't object to tlie trip a bit, though it Avill take 
 nie nearly two hours ; but for my shoes, which ai'e in sympathy 
 Avitli the i^hoes of more than two-thirds of the regiment. The 
 soles of both have given way ; and the venerated Major's toes are 
 
 out, as I drew in my letter to I shall get along to-night by 
 
 Avinding them round Avith cord (the shoes, not toes) ; and I hope 
 they will stand the poking through the bushes after my pickets. 
 
 " Gen. W. and aide called on me to-day ; and I treated them to 
 dinner, through sending out a special forager. ... I had secured 
 a goose, . . . two small ducks, and had a pudding made. . . . 
 But, alas ! there are draAvbacks on all human felicity. The 
 mess-tent Avas so cold, and the piue-logs throughout the camp so 
 obstinately refused to burn, that my tent was nearly at the freezing 
 point : and, Avhen I rose to carve the goose, I was obliged to grasp 
 the carving knife and fork in my fist ; and after making sundry 
 vain attempts to hit the joints of the Avretched bird, and groAving 
 desperate at the consciousness that seven pairs of Imngry eyes 
 were fixed on my struggles, I gracefully appealed to the general, 
 Avho, in his long buckskin gauntlets, succeeded in dismembering 
 the fowl," &c. ..." Now I have a good fire in front of my tent. 
 Would that I had had it when the shivering general and his shi- 
 vering aide sat on my bed, and shook in chilly unison ! " 
 
 He doubts about the next movement, but thinks a force Avill be 
 detached, and sent to Richmond. " I am very much obliged for 
 your letters. When I get a goodly stock of letters from the mail- 
 bag, I feel that I am still fast in home affections and remembrance ; 
 and the memory is one of the greatest enjoyments that I liaAe." 
 
 His last letter, a very Lurried and brief one in pencil, 
 Avritten on " Friday, Dec. 12," was affectionate as usual. 
 Amongst other things, he says, — 
 
 " We shelled and half burnt Fredericksburg yesterday. My 
 regim(;nt and brigade Avas ordered to be in readiness, and Avas 
 marched and countermarched ; as I Avill tell at some future 
 time, when I have pen, ink, and opportunity. . . . The Avholc of 
 Franklin's grand corps is passing in the rear of our camp, cross- 
 ing the river on the left, — artillery, infantry, and cavalry by the 
 thousands. My men are pretty much used up by Avant of shoes,' 
 
49 
 
 and consequent colds. I had by actual count, yesterday, a force 
 of only thi'ee hundred and fifty-three men and seventeen officers 
 with which to go into battle. I hope to write in a few days more 
 fully." 
 
 This was either the last letter he wrote, or else the next 
 to the last. It bears the same date with the last letter to 
 his wife. On Saturday, before he fell, his thought must 
 have been upon the impending battle, which proved a day 
 of awful and useless sacrifice, — a holocaust indeed. 
 
 As has been seen, he was appointed 'a captain on the 
 thirteenth day of August last ; left Boston with his regi- 
 ment on the twenty-second of the same month ; and, on the 
 twenty-seventh, was appointed a major. When it is remem- 
 bered that he was in actual command of the regiment, 
 without colonel or lieutenant-colonel, and with but three 
 captains, just about half the time after he left Boston, 
 encumbered with the new, numerous, and sometimes very 
 perplexing, duties of the colonelcy ; that he was ill for a 
 fortnight from fatigue and exposure ; that he had written 
 about one hundred letters, many of them very long ones, 
 abounding in pen-and-ink sketches, — he would seem to 
 have shown great industry and perseverance in his one 
 hundred and thirteen days' absence from home. The regi- 
 ment was new and inexperienced ; and, with unusual speed, 
 — three weeks and a half from the time of breaking up 
 camp at Lynnfield, — they were in the midst of the severe 
 battle at South Mountain, where they fought like veterans, 
 and began to earn there historical record, enlarged at Antie- 
 tam, and consummated at Fredericksburg. 
 
 The sad duty remains of speaking of the last hours of 
 the Christian soldier; of the man (as truly and tersely 
 described by a friend) " who never raised his arm or his 
 
 7 
 
50 
 
 voice in anger or pride ; the self-controlled, highly moral, 
 and exemplary man, whom even the follies of youth never 
 seemed to touch ; " — and of adding some of the tributes 
 paid to his memory. 
 
 On Sunday evening, Dec. 14, a telegram was received 
 from Falmouth, Va., without date, saying that " Major 
 Willard died this afternoon, at 1.30 ; " and soon after, in the 
 same evening, a second telegram was received, also without 
 date, that " Major Willard lies in Fredericksburg, wounded, 
 shot through the body," and containing a request to his 
 wife " to come immediately." Nothing further was heard 
 until Monday evening, Dec. 15. Meanwhile the family had 
 been in an agony of suspense, buoyed up with hope against 
 hope. In the confusion of the day, there might have been 
 a mistake in the first telegram received ; the son, husband, 
 and brother might be, and perhaps was, living. Several 
 plausible theories were suggested ; but Monday evening 
 (when several members of the family, who had left Boston 
 in the morning, were on their way to Washington) brought 
 with it a confirmation of the intelligence. 
 
 The principal circumstances in relation to the part he 
 was taking in the bloody fight at Fredericksburg, also the 
 narrative of his fall and death, are contained in the follow- 
 ing letter from Capt. Lathrop, who was acting major in the 
 the battle : — 
 
 Camp near Fredericksburg, Va., 
 Dec. 18, 1862. 
 My dear Mrs. Willard, — 
 
 In compliance with the request of your late husband, it be- 
 comes my sad duty to write you the particulars of that event, 
 "which, I can assure you, is deplored by the regiment and by my- 
 self, no less than by his friends and relations at home. We crossed 
 the river on Friday, Dec. 12. That night, Ave camped in one 
 of the streets of Fredericksburg ; and, the next day, took part in 
 
51 
 
 the battle. The enemy were posted on a range of hills half a mile 
 outside of the town, behind earthworks. The position was one of 
 great strength, and was defended by artillery and infantry. To 
 reach it, we had to pass across an open plain, which Avas fully 
 exposed to a murderous fire from the enemy's batteries. Antictam 
 was nothing to it. We advanced in line of battle ; your gallant 
 husband at the head of the regiment, cheering, and encouraging it 
 on. When about half-way across, he was struck by a Minie-ball 
 in the body, and fell prostrate. He soon arose, and was being 
 supported to the rear by one man when I saw him. I immedi- 
 ately went to his assistance, and asked him if he was hit. He 
 said he was, and wished I would help him off the field. I found 
 he was able to walk but a few steps further. To attempt to carry 
 him off the field the way we came on, would have exposed him to 
 another shot. I looked around for a way of escape, and saw a 
 gully running back to the town. To this Ave carried him ; and I 
 sent a man after a stretcher, Avhile I remained Avith him. While 
 here, we Avere several times covered Avith dirt, caused by the ene- 
 my's shells striking in close proximity to us. I examined the 
 wound, and did what I could to stanch the blood. After sending 
 the tenderest message to the loved ones at home, and in submis- 
 sion saying, ^'■But God's ivill he done" he added, '■'•Tell them I tried 
 to do my duty to my country and to the regiment.'" We remained 
 in this gully an hour, and still no sti-etcher appeared. The firing 
 seemed to be nearer, and stragglers going to the rear said the ene- 
 my were driving us. To attempt to carry your husband on a 
 blanket Avould expose him to great pain ; to remain Avould endan- 
 ger our freedom. I decided to adopt the former alternative, and 
 started. Several shot Avent by us ; but none struck our party. 
 Before Ave reached the toAvn, Ave met two men of the New-Hamp- 
 shire Eleventh with a stretcher, and, placing your husband on it, 
 took him to a hospital. A surgeon looked at his wound, and told me 
 to bathe it in cold Avater ; and this Avas all the dressing I could get 
 any of them to put upon it. I remained Avith him all night, doing 
 what I could to alleviate his sufferings. We Avere in a room Avith 
 thirty others, who had wounds of every description. The night 
 Avas a terrible one. Groans and cries of agouy prevented any rest ; 
 but your husband bore his sufferings with the utmost patience. No 
 cry or complaint escaped his lips. With the utmost Christian re- 
 
52 
 
 signation, he endui'ed it all. In the moruing, the ball was extracted. 
 At nine, I left him for a few hours to hunt up the regiment, and 
 report what had happened. Before I returned, a messenger came, 
 and reported that the Major was gone. I immediately went to the 
 hospital, and had the body taken to camp and sent to "Washington. 
 . . . The sufferings of your husband, before his death, Avere 
 undoubtedly great ; but he bore them like a man. He Avas fully 
 conscious, when I left )um ; and I am informed he retained his 
 faculties to the end. ... In your husband's decease, I have 
 lost a dear and valued friend. I first became acquainted with 
 him in 1854, and have ever since esteemed him highly. The 
 kindly feelings which existed between us, as officers of the same 
 company, did not cease when he left it for the position of Major 
 of the regiment. I know that he entered into this war from no 
 feelings of martial pride, or from a desire to win renown. A mili- 
 tary life was distasteful to him ; but he felt it his duty to be here, 
 and he remained. He often spoke to me of the peaceful and 
 happy life which he trusted was in store for him when the war 
 should be over, Deeply sympathizing with you in your afflic- 
 tion, 
 
 I remain truly yours, 
 
 John Lathrop. 
 
 The regiment left the city of Fredericksburg at half 
 past eleven o'clock on Saturday morning, and was advan- 
 cing against the rebels ; the Major being in front of color- 
 company B, when he led the regiment to the charge. 
 Capt. Lathrop was in the rear, acting as major. Efforts 
 were made to persuade the Major to order the charge and 
 take his station in the rear, but without success. Waving his 
 sword, and leading on the charge, he was seen to fall; * and 
 the startling cry went forth, that the " Major was down ! " 
 A lad in the regiment, by the name of Krill, seems to have 
 
 * He wjis seen by the commander of the next regiment, — the Twenty-first Mas- 
 sachusetts, — very much in advance of his men. 
 
53 
 
 been the first to go to his assistance, having seen him at the 
 moment he was shot; but he was not strong enough to lift 
 him. Private Estes then started to his support, and was 
 helping him through the lines to the rear, when Capt. La- 
 throp came up on the other side, and the two attempted 
 to take him from the field. They had proceeded but a rod 
 or two, when the Major said, " You must let me lie down : I 
 can't go any further." 
 
 They laid him down, put him in a blanket, and endea- 
 vored to place him out of the range of the fire ; but, the 
 rebels enfilading the road, they removed him just below 
 the bank. Here there was a shelter from the front fire ; and, 
 by a little bend in the road, from the cross-fire also. Capt. 
 Lathrop lay down by his side. Here it was, probably, that 
 he requested the captain to give the message to the loved 
 ones at home, as mentioned in the captain's letter ; and also 
 expressed his desire to be buried at Mount Auburn. 
 
 Within a half hour or hour, two soldiers appeared with 
 a stretcher, and bore him upon it to the hospital of a 
 Connecticut regiment. He Avas in pain, but never moaned 
 or exclaimed. 
 
 Towards night, the surgeon gave him whiskey and mor- 
 phine ; but he doubted whether to take it, saying that he 
 had never drunk whiskey : however, he was induced to con- 
 sent, and soon became easier. He Avas thirsty, and wanted 
 water, which was brought ; but from self-control, says the 
 captain, he would not drink, but only rinsed his mouth. 
 
 He inquired whether his horse had been found, and was 
 told that it had not been."' 
 
 * The horse had been tied in Fredericksburg. It was lost during the battle, to- 
 gether with the blankets and haversack. Probably they were stolen. Inquiries 
 were instituted, but with no success. 
 
54 
 
 About nine o'clock on Sunday morning, Capt. Lathrop 
 was obliged to be absent to attend to the regiment, now 
 reduced to less than one-third of its original number. He 
 left the ]\Iajor calm, quiet, and apparently comfortable ; and 
 did not apprehend any early change in his condition. Estes 
 and another private remained in attendance. Acting Lieut- 
 Col. Pratt came in, and found the Major cheerful, affection- 
 ate, and resigned ; and, on inquiring how he could serve 
 him, was requested to telegraph to his wife to come imme- 
 diately. He then left to execute his mission, thinking the 
 Major could not live many hours : but it seems doubtful 
 whether the latter, though knowing that he was fatally 
 wounded, thought himself so near his end ; for he had had 
 no warning from any former experience of severe illness. 
 
 The privates continued in attendance through the clos- 
 ing scene, save that Estes was absent some fifteen minutes, 
 between one and two o'clock, to take some food. The Ma- 
 jor had been induced to go to sleep ; and he was asleep, 
 lying on his left side, when Estes returned. A motion of 
 the right shoulder was noticed: presently his lips were 
 seen to move ; his eyes were open, and rolled up. Estes felt 
 his pulse, and found none ; * he felt his hands, they were 
 cold. He called the surgeon, who confirmed his fears that 
 all was over. The Major had entered into his rest. 
 
 This brief narrative contains substantially the little, but 
 all, that has thus far been gathered, of the last hours and 
 death of Major Sidney Willard. 
 
 As he lay in the repose of death in the home of his 
 youth, his expression was natural and life-like, as of one 
 who had returned wearied with conflict, and had sunk into 
 a calm but thoughtful and semi-conscious slumber. 
 
 * Capt. Lathrop said he had no pulse after he was wounded. 
 
55 
 
 Religious services were held at the late residence of the 
 deceased; but the family yielded to the urgency of respected 
 friends, wl;o said there was a strong desire and expectation 
 of a more public demonstration. The West Church was 
 crowded at his public obsequies, and they were of a most 
 impressive character. The military escort detailed by the 
 Governor was composed of the Independent Company of 
 Cadets, of which, for several years, he had been a member ; 
 and of the Washington Home Guard of Cambridge, which 
 he had so carefully instructed. Nor were the Weston men, 
 the yeomanry of the land, who had been trained by him, — 
 those of them who had not gone to the war, — wanting in 
 their attendance, and tribute of respect. 
 
 Omitting the numerous and private testimonials to his 
 memory, and those published in the journals of the day, it 
 will not be inappropriate to add, as of a more public charac- 
 ter, the resolutions of the Cadets, those of the Home Guard, 
 and those of his classmates of Harvard College. 
 
 Resolutions passed by the Independent Company of Cadets^ 
 Dec. 20, 1862. 
 
 " Whereas the Independent Company of Cadets have heard 
 with feelings of sorrow of the death of their fellow-member, 
 Major Sidney Willard, of the Thirty-fifth Regiment of Massachu- 
 setts Volunteers, by wounds received in battle ; and — 
 
 " Whereas we have experienced, by his decease, another loss 
 to the many we have already sustained during the present Rebel- 
 lion ; therefore — 
 
 " Besolved, That while we mourn his loss, and offer our sincere 
 sympathies to his bereaved Avidow (thus suddenly called upon to 
 part with the object of her affections) and to his family and surviv- 
 
56 
 
 ing relatives, Ave remember tlie undaunted courage and patriot- 
 ism Avliich marked his short cai-eer, and the bravery which 
 distinguished him in the field of battle in fighting against the ene- 
 mies of our Constitution and civil liberties. 
 
 '■'■ Bcsolved, That the strong attachment he always evinced for 
 this corps during his membership ; his lively interest in its Avelfare ; 
 his firm, unswerving integrity as a man and a citizen ; with the 
 devotion to the cause for which he Avent forth to do battle, under 
 circumstances of no ordinary nature, sundering the sacred ties 
 which bind a man to those most beloved by him, — will endear his 
 memory to us, and cause his name to be mentioned with feelings 
 of admiration and respect by his former comrades, Avhile his death 
 wull add another name to the roll of departed heroes who have 
 gone forth from our ranks to uphold our national honor and 
 integrity. 
 
 " Resolved, That these resolutions be entered upon the records 
 of this corps, and a copy sent to the widow of the late Major Wil- 
 lard, with the tender of our respectful sympathies in her great 
 bereavement. " Chas. E. Stevens, Clerk I. G. G." 
 
 At a meeting of the Washington Home Guard of Cam- 
 bridge, held at their armory, Dec. 15, the following reso- 
 lutions, presented by the Hon. Emory Washburn, were 
 unanimously adopted, and communicated to the family of 
 Major Willard, together with an offer of the services of the 
 company as a funeral escort : — 
 
 " Resolved, That the Washington Home Guard have heard 
 with deep sorrow and regret of the death of Major Sidney Wil- 
 lard, of the Thirty-fifth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, 
 Avho fell in the battle of Fredericksburg, on the 13th inst. In jus- 
 tice to the memory of one who Avas endeared to them by many 
 considerations, they cannot Avithhold this expression of their high 
 appreciation of his character as a soldier, as a gentleman, and as a 
 friend. They Avill ever cherish a remembrance of him as their 
 much-esteemed commander and military instructor, and Avill often 
 hereafter recall the pleasant associations Avhich characterized his 
 relations as one of their number. Falling as he has done, in the 
 
57 
 
 vigor of his manhood, in a cause to Avhich he had devoted his 
 noblest energies, his country has to lament the loss of a brave 
 officer, the State a citizen of high promise and unswerving integrity, 
 his friends a true-hearted man, and his family one endeared to 
 them by the ties of the warmest affection. 
 
 " The Home Guard would tender to the family of their late 
 associate their most cordial sympathy, while they place upon their 
 record this testimonial of their esteem. 
 
 " W. P. Atkinson, Clerk W. H. G." 
 
 Resolutions jyassed at a Meeting of the Class of 1852, held in Boston^ 
 
 Dec. 17, 1862. 
 
 '" Resolved, That we have heard with deep sorroAv of the 
 death of our class-mate. Major Sidney Willard. 
 
 " But it is consoling to remember, that he died nobly in battle 
 for his country, at the head of his regiment ; and that he has 
 added fresh honor to a name distinguished in the annals of New 
 England and of our college in more than one generation. 
 
 " He was the first of our number to lay down his life for the 
 country ; and his name shall be treasured up in our hearts with 
 everlasting respect and honor. He was one with whose memory 
 nothing which is not truthful and pure and upright and courageous 
 and honorable can ever be associated. 
 
 " "We remember that our friend entered the service from a con- 
 viction of duty and an honorable sensitiveness, — countervailing 
 the advice of friends, — which led him to think that one, so well 
 qualified as he, ought not to be absent from the field ; and we 
 remember also the costly sacrifice which he then made of domes- 
 tic happiness, of business prospects, and of strong natural tastes 
 and predilections for peaceful pursuits. 
 
 " Many of us mourn the loss of a personal friend, — generous, 
 incorruptible, steadfast, pure, of a strong and widely cultivated 
 mind, and a heart singularly aftectionate, and sensitive to every 
 sentiment of honor. 
 
 8 
 
58 
 
 " Resolved., That a copy of these resolutions be transmitted to 
 the family of Major "VVillard, with the expression of our deepest 
 and most respectful sympathy. 
 
 " S. M. QuiNCY, Chairman. 
 " Henry G. Denny, Secretary." 
 
 "IN MEMORY OF MAJOR SIDNEY WILLARD. 
 
 Called from the din of battle and the rush of earthly strife 
 
 To the peace past understanding of a new and endless life, 
 
 No long and wasting sickness wore away that noble form, 
 
 Trained in temperance and virtue to be the worthy home 
 
 Of the soul that dwelt within it, till the sudden summons came 
 
 To crown the patriot hero with the dying martyr's fame ; 
 
 To lead the heart, that here was blessed, by perfect, changeless love, 
 
 To its endless consummation in the Father's home above. 
 
 As we mourn the life thus ended in all the pride of youth. 
 
 Let us strive to make ours like it in manliness and truth : 
 
 And though 'tis hard for us to see the brightest and the best 
 
 Thus taken, when so many are longing for their rest ; 
 
 Yet we trust the perfect wisdom which we cannot understand. 
 
 And bow in meek submission 'neath the loving, chastening hand." 
 
«» 
 
LIBRORY OF CONGRESS 
 
 7