Winnebago
again, but heavy afflictions made that winter a very sad one. The
anxiety consequent on the serious illness of two beloved members of
the family so wore upon our dear father, whose constitution had been
severely tried by arduous military duties, that after many weeks of
pain, he died, and left us crushed and desolate.

I have beside me an old "Order Book," open at a page on which is this
sad record:

"The Major Commanding has the painful duty to announce to the
command, the death of Major Nathan Clark; he will be buried
to-morrow afternoon at 2 o'clock, with the honors of war,
where all present, except those persons who may be expressly
excused, will appear under arms in full uniform; the
Commanding Officer directs that the escort be composed of
four companies, which, in accordance with his own feelings as
well as what is due to the deceased, he will command in
person. All officers of this command will wear black crape
attached to the hilts of their swords, and as testimony of
respect for the deceased, this badge will be worn for the
period of thirty days. The Surgeon of the Post will act as
Chaplain.

By order of Major Green.
Feb. 18th, 1836.
Signed J. T. COLLINGSWORTH, Act. Adj."

And at the time appointed, a detail of soldiers from his own "Company
C," reverently place upon the bier the encoffined form of their
beloved commander, having for a pall the "Stars and Stripes", on which
are laid the sword and accoutrements now no longer needed.

Memory brings back to me that mournful afternoon, and I see the
bearers with their burden; the long procession of soldiers with
trailed arms; the commissioned officers each in his appropriate place,
all keeping time and step to the muffled drum as it rolls out its
requiem on the wintry air, in the strains of Pleyel's heart-melting
hymn; the weeping wife and children in the large sleigh,--all passing
out the great gate to the lone graveyard. And the precious burden is
lowered, and at its head stands Surgeon Lyman Foote, our father's
life-long friend, and in a voice trembling with emotion, reads the
wonderful words: "I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord."
After the burial service comes the last salute, and, leaving there
that which is so dear to us, we go back to the empty quarters, bowed
down heavily, as those who mourn for one inexpressibly dear.

During those weeks