When she arrived at the hospital, she stood a moment at the door of the ward where her boy lay on his deathbed, and where the long rows of beds and their occupants all looked alike to her; she heard his voice at the further end of the room, saying “Oh mother, mother! here I am come quick!” and soon the heartbroken mother knelt by his bedside, while he, happy in her presence, talked of the battle and tried to comfort her.
“I know I’ve got to die,” he said, “But never mind, mother dear, it is in a glorious cause, and we whipped the rebels good!” Poor boy, he was only twenty, yet was willing to die for his country!
As he grew weaker, he talked of the dear ones at home, and wished he could have bade them goodbye.
“Kiss them for me, mother,” he said, “And take me home, and lay me beside my father, and put some flowers on my grave from the dear old home garden, that I have so longed to see!”
His mother remained with him until he died, and through untold difficulties, she brought his body home, being obliged to smuggle it part of the way, and now, in the family lot, he lies beside his father and mother. Two of his brothers also lie buried there, Charles, who served in the Massachusetts heavy artillery, and George, who was badly wounded in the head while serving in the navy; he never fully recovered, and died soon after the war ended.
Chapter XI.
MINE RUN.
We wait for the bugle, the night winds are cold,
The limbs of the soldiers feel jaded and old.
The field of our bivouac is windy and bare,