he seemed the most
precious. Born in San Francisco, I had watched with intense
interest his development, and he seemed more than any of the
children to take an interest in my special profession. Mrs.
Sherman, Minnie, Lizzie, and Tom, were with him at the time, and we
all, helpless and overwhelmed, saw him die. Being in the very
midst of an important military enterprise, I had hardly time to
pause and think of my personal loss. We procured a metallic
casket, and had a military funeral, the battalion of the Thirteenth
United States Regulars acting as escort from the Gayoso Hotel to
the steamboat Grey Eagle, which conveyed him and my family up to
Cairo, whence they proceeded to our home at Lancaster, Ohio, where
he was buried. I here give my letter to Captain C. C. Smith, who
commanded the battalion at the time, as exhibiting our intense
feelings:

GAYOSO HOUSE, MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE
October 4, 1863, Midnight

Captain C. C. SMITH, commanding Battalion Thirteenth United States
Regulars.

MY DEAR FRIEND: I cannot sleep to-night till I record an expression
of the deep feelings of my heart to you, and to the officers and
soldiers of the battalion, for their kind behavior to my poor
child. I realize that you all feel for my family the attachment of
kindred, and I assure you of full reciprocity. Consistent with a
sense of duty to my profession and office, I could not leave my
post, and sent for the family to come to me in that fatal climate,
and in that sickly period of the year, and behold the result! The
child that bore my name, and in whose future I reposed with more
confidence than I did in my own plan of life, now floats a mere
corpse, seeking a grave in a distant land, with a weeping mother,
brother, and sisters, clustered about him. For myself, I ask no
sympathy. On, on I must go, to meet a soldier's fate, or live to
see our country rise superior to all factions, till its flag is
adored and respected by ourselves and by all the powers of the
earth.

But Willie was, or thought he was, a sergeant in the Thirteenth. I
have seen his eye brighten, his heart beat, as he beheld the
battalion under arms, and asked me if they were not real soldiers.
Child as he was, he had the enthusiasm, the pure love of truth,
honor, and love of country, which should animate all soldiers.

God only knows why he should die thus young. He is dead, but will
not be forgotten till those who knew him in life have followed him
to th