CHAPTER VI. HAPPY DEATHS OF BRAVE MEN. I. DEATH OF GENERAL MITCHELL. THIS distinguished officer died at Beaufort, S. C., on the evening of Thursday, October thirtieth, 1862, shortly after his assumption of the command of that district. He had already performed some of the most brilliant exploits of the war, and great hopes rested on him for the future. His death was justly regarded as one of the greatest losses that the country has sustained. His name will shine with lustre in American history, as long as the memory of patriotism, valor, and genius shall abide among men. A gentleman who watched at his bedside has given the following description of his last hours. The general, as I stood near him, reached out his hand, and taking mine, looked up in my face, and said, "It is a blessed thing to have a Christian's hope in a time like this." After an hour, perhaps, he beckoned to me, and feebly shaking my hand, said, "You must not stay longer; go now, and come to me in the morning.” Major Birch, who had been untiring in his attentions, entered, almost convulsed with grief. He had just taken down the last will and wishes of his beloved commander. He conducted the Rev. Mr. Strickland to the bedside of the general, and beckoned me to follow. I did not hear all the words of the general, as the Rev. Mr. Strickland stooped to speak to him; but I did hear him say, "Kneel down," and then add the request that he would offer a DEATH OF GENERAL MITCHELL. 155 short prayer. How still he lay while that prayer was addressed to the throne of the God of Battles! At its conclusion, as we rose from our knees, his eyes rested on me, and his hand was extended again. "You can do me no good," said he faintly; "do not stay." His mind seemed perfectly clear and calm, but he was failing constantly. Oh, it is a tearful sight to us all to see a father thus dying at the same hour with his two sons, and they not know it, not permitted to treasure up his last words, his last look; that all these must be given to strangers. But they are too sick yet to bear the blow; it would shatter them; therefore they must be kept in ignorance till a coming hour. At seven o'clock, P. M., of the same day, the writer adds, General Mitchell has breathed his last. He is gone. from us. Our hopes that were placed on him must be placed higher, higher. With Victor Hugo, we must learn to say, "It is not generals or soldiers, but God, who must give us the victory, in this war of the powers of darkness!" General Mitchell had entire possession of his faculties till within an hour or two of his departure, when his reason seemed to wander. His last intelligent expression was, "I am ready to go." His last intelligent look was directed to the Rev. Mr. Strickland and when he could speak no longer, seeing that friend approach, he pointed with his hand twice toward heaven, and the next moment his soul took its flight thither.1 He died after an illness of four days only. His remains rest in the shadow of the Episcopal church in Beaufort, S. C., near those of his aid-de-camp, Captain Williams, who died two days before him. 1 I have added a few words to this letter from a supplementary report. II. THE CHILD'S PRAYER THAT OF THE MAN. It was the evening after a great battle. All day long the din of strife had echoed far, and thickly strewn lay the shattered forms of those so lately erect and exultant in the flush and strength of manhood. Among the many who bowed to the conqueror Death that night, was a youth in the first freshness of mature life. The strong limbs lay listless, and the dark hair was matted with gore, on the pale, broad forehead. His eyes were closed. As one who ministered to the sufferer bent over him, he at first thought him dead; but the white lips moved, and slowly in weak tones he repeated, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; And this I ask for Jesus' sake." As he finished, he opened his eyes, and, meeting the pitying gaze of a brother soldier, he exclaimed, “My mother taught me that when I was a little boy, and I have said it every night since I can remember. Before the morning dawns, I believe that God will take my soul for 'Jesus' sake;' but before I die, I want to send a message to my mother." He was carried to a temporary hospital, and a letter was written to his mother, which he dictated, full of Christian faith and filial love. He was calm and peaceful. Just as the sun arose, his spirit went home. His last articulate words were,– "I pray the Lord my soul to take; And this I ask for Jesus' sake." SO THE YOUNG SOLDIER DIED. 157 So died William B- of the Massachusetts Volunteers. The prayer of childhood was the prayer of manhood. He learned it at his mother's knee in his far distant Northern home, and he whispered it in dying, when his young life ebbed away on a Southern battle-field. III. SO THE YOUNG SOLDIER DIED. "Bring me my knapsack,” said a young soldier, who lay sick in one of the hospitals at Washington, and was evidently near his end,-"bring me my knapsack." "Why do you want your knapsack?" inquired the head. lady of the band of nurses. "I want my knapsack," said the young man again and yet more earnestly. His knapsack was brought to him, and, as he took it, his eye gleamed with pleasure, and a smile passed over his countenance as he brought out from it, one after another, its hoarded treasures. "There," said he, "that is a Bible from my mother. And this- Washington's farewell address is the gift of my father. And this His voice failed. وو The nurse looked down to see what it was, and there was the face of a beautiful maiden. "Now," said the dying young soldier, "I want you to put all these under my pillow." She did as she was requested, and the poor sufferer, overcome by the strength of his feelings and the progress of disease, laid himself down to die, with the precious tokens under his head. He directed the mementos to be sent to his parents when he should be no more. Calm and joyful was he as he rapidly breathed his life away. For him it was only passing from night to endless day, from death to immortality. So the young soldier died. IV. THE LAST MESSAGE. A young soldier, while dying very happily in the Douglas Hospital, in the District of Columbia, broke out in singing the following stanza: "Great Jehovah, we adore thee, God the Father, God the Son, To Jehovah, three in one." The chaplain then asked him if he had any message to send to his friends. "Yes," said he. "Tell my father that I have tried to pray as we used to pray at home. Tell him that Christ is now all my hope, all my trust, that he is precious to my soul. Tell him that I am not afraid to die, - all is calm. Tell him that I believe Christ will take me to himself, and to my dear sister who is in heaven." The voice of the dying boy faltered in the intervals between these precious sentences. When the hymn commencing, "Nearer, my God, to thee," was read to him, at the end of each stanza, he exclaimed with striking energy, “O Lord Jesus, thou art coming nearer to me." Also, at the end of each stanza of the hymn (which was also read to him) commencing, — "Just as I am― without one plea, But that thy blood was shed for me, O Lamb of God, I come," he exclaimed, "I come! O Lamb of God, I come!" |