The daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1863-1864, 1864-01-01

to each other. We conversed As freely as
men situated as we were could do. The
bullet was still in the limb. Every effort
of our surgeon to extract the ball had thus
far proved unavailing. It was the third
day since he had come among US. Every
one loved him. He had been so brave, and
then he was 50 kind and, smiable. Fever
set in-I think it was Typhoid. The sur
geons came in, and strange to. say, Wore q
troubled and anxious, look. Accustomed
as these men are to scenes Of suffering and
death, they soon seem to us to loose all
feeling, and witness, with the same uncon-
cern, our recovery or our death. This time
they succeeded, after long and torturing
trial, in extracting the ball. Butit was too
late My comrade turned to me after the
operation was over, and with q, look /
shall neysr forget, said, "partnsr, they have
been very; kind and gentle with me. Don't
you think SO? But it's too late. 4 l wish /
could see mother before I die"-and here
his fine voice quivered with emotion
ooh Oh" he muttered, and his eyes half
closed, while he seemed to be gently sinking
to sleep; but suddenly starting upon his lit
tie bed, he screamed rather than said-Hs!
/ hear the sentinels over yonder? Don't you
partner2 I'll soon be with them, and stand
picket for all eternity. Oh! Eternal guards =
and my heart said within me as he raved.-
He was in the widest delirium, and talked
and sung by turns in the most perfect ipco-
herency for days. He grew weaker, but
reason had left him forever, and longed to
see him die looked up one bright morn
ing, and could still hear his weird speeches
and moans A pale, fearful form was bend
ing over hint was his mother, but he
knew her not Poor woman! how she strove
to make him know her, but all in vain. lie
looked at her, and shouted at her with a
madman's wild tones He fairly shrieked
long this scene; I cannot bear it. L looked
again-he was dying, the convulsive shud
der, the ceathly glance gave me a sorrowful,
Joyous assurance, for thought could bear
the scene no longer, and was glad to see
him falling into the arms of the sufferers
best friend. Our ward was an old theatre.
The curtain was raised, and the scenery
scattered confusedly about. My comrade
was on the stage. 1t was yet early; and
the foot lighIs burning But here was a
| scene in real life being enacted now
! Another convulsive movement of the blan-
kets, and thought all had settled for the
peacefulness of death. But there then
broke out sweet, low, tremulous voice
from that dear dying boy, and all else was
still as death. Here was hero meeting
death with beautiful song on his expiring
breath. O, that | had that moment been
able to transfer the scene and the effect to
canvas! Every eye was painfully turned
towards our departing comrade. "Listen,
listen,n whispered my next neighbor, who,
for the moment, forgot his own wounds,
"did you ever hear such moving melody?'
These, only these, were the words he sung:
Weeping sad and lonely,
Hopes and fears how vain;'
but they came in prolonged tone of ten
derness and sweetness, that might have en-
chained our attention for centuries AS
the last note dedaway, and foated upward,
his spirit rose with it, and naught but the
cold clay was left. Never, never, shall the
memory of that hour pass from my soul
neverl And that song will always have a
solemn charm for me.