in which both
were concerned, they were compelled to wear "the wooden shirt," and to
march back and forth before the Captain's quarters: yet they were far from
being disheartened, but with great merriment performed this unusual sentry
duty, assisting each other, in case of any accident, with an almost
brotherly regard. One of this pair of intimate friends is believed to have
died at Andersonville. As to his comrade, many years have passed since the
writer last beheld his strongly marked features, and whether he is still
in the land of the living is a matter of uncertainty. So drops the curtain
over our heroes.

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."
_Shakspeare._

CHAPTER VII.

IN MEMORIAM.

A few closing words as a tribute to the honored dead. While referring
especially to a few names in this connection, no peculiar honor is claimed
for them above the large number of their comrades in other Companies whose
record is equally honorable; but of those we know best we can, doubtless,
best speak.

Brave Christopher Pennell; with a noble ambition leaving his many friends
to serve in another field, and falling at last before Petersburg.

Captain William B. Bacon: an able and intrepid soldier, than whom few had
brighter prospects of advancement and honor, stricken down at Newmarket
while inspiring his men with his own fearlessness of spirit.

Sergeant Henry B. King: of a gentle and obliging spirit and beloved by all
his comrades, dying on the field of battle, and leaving only the knowledge
of his devotion to duty to cheer his youthful and bereaved companion.

The brothers, Dwight and Henry Chickering: noble and promising youths,
making the woods ring with the sound of their axes, and their whole-souled
laughter, as we prepared to encamp after the day's weary march.

But one more will be particularly mentioned here, in reference to whom
Brigade Surgeon Clarke uses this language, in a letter informing his
friends of his death: "he was a brave, conscientious and faithful
soldier." And what shall I say of thee, my brother, my faithful friend?
Though the snows of seven winters have in their season robed thy grave
with a stainless winding-sheet, yet is thy memory cherished fondly as at
first: still shall the flowers of each