My brother Officers have requested me to acknowledge your kindness, and to thank you very much for your remembrance of them in forwarding the books, descriptive of the life of their poor friend and fellow-soldier, Captain Vicars. Believe me, no one was, or could be, more regretted than he is, for he was ever anxious, zealous, and attentive to his duties, he was also most cheerful, self-denying, and obliging to his friends and companions. The narrative truly states, that whilst he entered, with all his heart, into the interests and duties of a soldier, his lips and life told one unchanging story of the love of Christ. It must be a very great source of consolation to his mother to know that in all this army, none, as far as human observation can judge, was more prepared to meet his Maker. I was not in the trench the night he suffered, but hearing that some wounded men had been sent up, I had risen and gone to the Hospital with the Doctor; whilst there, I was informed that he was being brought in, and hastening to meet him, found, poor fellow, that he had breathed his last—as his bearers informed me, calmly and quietly, having spoken a few minutes before I met them. I must beg you to convey my condolences to his poor mother, to whom I would have written at the time, had I known her address. I left the correspondence to a personal and intimate friend of his, Major Ingram.
Believe me, my dear Lady Rayleigh,
Most truly to remain yours,
A. F. WELSFORD
Major Commanding 97th.
The night of the 22nd March, 1855, was as dark as pitch; when the noble Captain was brought into the trench a stretcher was procured, he was placed upon it, and then he asked for a little water. To each one’s inquiry he answered cheerfully, and said that he believed his wound was slight. But a main artery had been severed, and the life blood flowed fast. He was quickly sent home to camp, but the bearers had only proceeded a few paces onward when he faintly said, “Cover my face, cover my face.” What need for covering under the shadow of that dark night? Was it not a sudden consciousness that he was entering into the presence of the Holy God, before whom even the Angels veil their faces? As the men laid him down at the door of his tent, a welcome from the armies of the sky sounded in his hearing; he had fallen asleep.
In writing the foregoing narrative, I have had a single eye to the glory of Him who said, “If any man serve Me, let him follow Me, and where I am, there shall My servant be. If any man serve Me, him will my Father honour.”—St. John 12th.
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Go to thy grave, at noon from labour cease, Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest work is done; Come from the heart of battle, and in peace, Soldier, go home, with thee the fight is won. |
[CHAPTER XIV.]
THE BLACK WATCH.