No effort was made to rouse him at that time, and at the surgeon’s request we withdrew from the room. Then the general came to me, greeting me with a silent handshake.
I could not rest, but walked back and forth in the small room. Then came word from Miss Rich, “Jonathan is conscious, and wants to see you.”
I went at once to the room where lay my stricken friend.
A brave look swept over his face, as he held out his hands with imploring invitation, but without words, for me to come to him.
I could not speak, but knelt by his side. His voice came to me in almost a whisper, so faint was his utterance.
“[Good old Davie—the first friend I ever had]. It is good to be here with those I love. It is so good to die under the dear old flag and for my country. Don’t grieve, Davie. It is good that you believe—and know. God bless you, Davie.” His voice grew weaker. “Take care of Jack, and Muddy. Call Rose—dear Rose!” Then, after a pause, with a smile illumining his thin worn face, he held out his hands to an unseen presence. “Mother, dear, I’m coming—Jed’s boy!” and then fell back with the smile still on his face.
“GOOD OLD DAVIE—THE FIRST FRIEND I EVER HAD.”—[Page 233].
The surgeon stepped to his side, made a brief examination, and shook his head.
General Burbank uncovering said, his voice vibrating with emotion: “There is the truest, most unselfish patriot that I ever knew or expect to know. He was a hero without a stain of selfishness. He was willing to sacrifice all that he held dear, to go down to death branded as a traitor by the friends he loved best, that he might serve his country.”