His
mortal life was closed.
I well remember a day spent in his company nearly four years ago, and
its occurrences gave me an opportunity to witness the regard in which he
was held by those among whom he had lived and to whom he was best known.
It was on Decoration Day, in a section of country where he had seen
service as a soldier, not far from where he had lived in his early
childhood. He was the orator of the occasion. Many of his old
companions in arms and members of their families were among his
audience, and they listened eagerly as he made appropriate reference to
the departed comrades who slept under the little hillocks near by them,
bright and fragrant with the flowers of early summer, which the loving
hands of woman and childhood had heaped upon them. As he descended from
the platform he was surrounded by old and young, who thronged about him
to shake his hand or give expression to a friendly greeting. Admiration
and affection were expressed upon their countenances for the brave man
before them, whose gallant deeds had been told at every fireside in the
country around, and who was loved and honored because, in addition to
his own merits and virtues, he represented the great leader whose name
was the embodiment of a precious memory.
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