( 13 ) and Gen. Weitzel, who sent for him immediately on his arrival, and contended with each other in their kind and flattering attentions to him. It was a delightful reunion of friends who had learned each other’s worth amid scenes which try men’s souls. Mot long after this, the Twelfth regiment, whose commander, since his furlough, had been commissioned Colonel, was transferred to the department of General Sheridan, near Harper’s Ferry. He was with Gen. Sheridan in all those maneuvers and skirmishes which prepared the way for the great battle and victory near Winchester. His letters show that he fully understood the situation—that he anticipated a severe engagement, and was confident of a triumph to our arms. He may not have realized that it was to be his last contest with an enemy he had fought so earnestly. Yet we have good reason to think that he never entered a battle without a solemn sense of the momentous consequences it involved to himself personally, and that he clothed himself with that spiritual armor, and took with him that shield of faith which is the soul’s only protection. On the ever memorable 19th of September, he conducted his beloved regiment for the last time to the front, where the battle was already raging, and had just given the order, “Forward, double quick!” when the fragment of a shell which had exploded within a few feet of him, struck his knee, and was driven through it, lodging in the stirrup strap, and wounding the horse on which he sat. He fell at once, and was caught by Captain Roach. Dr. Brownell, Medical Director of the Corps, and his most intimate friend, happened to be passing at the moment, and immediately ordered every possible care and attendance, although no orders, he says, were needed, so greatly was the Colonel beloved. He was taken directly to the hospital, nearly two miles to the rear, where Dr. Cummings did all that could be done for him; but it was in vain. The shock was so great, and he lost
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