have no reason to feel that it was not equally pleasant to him. He cheerfully shared all the privations and hardships which it was our lot to meet. When upon our long marches, more than once he has divided his last cake of hard-bread, and compelled me to take it; and at night if I had no blanket, I was welcome to half of his. In short, in all situations and under all circumstances he was to me 'a friend indeed.' We get comparatively few such friends; and it is hard, and, without a full confidence in the goodness of God, would seem cruel, to be obliged to part with them." Since his death, one of his men has described in a simple way some little scenes from the past. "I have thought how many times I have brought water for the Captain after a long day's march, and made him a cup of coffee, and straw to make him and Lieutenant Prime a little bed. They were about of a size, and would lie down together like two little kittens. I recollect one night, when we went to Harper's Ferry for the first time, we stopped near Charlestown, where John Brown was hung. We had no rations. The Captain said he would get us some; and he went away with Lieutenant Prime, and walked all over Charlestown, and came back with a large quantity of bread, coffee, and sugar. O, how the boys all cheered him, and said that was the captain that would look after his men!" One of George's classmates, who had enlisted as a private, and a chance meeting with whom has been already described in his letters, speaks of that meeting as follows: "In going up the Potomac on the transport we were very much crowded. My company were in a dark room or hole, down two flights of stairs. You could hardly get about decks, so great the crowd, and some of the officers of the vessel who knew me had hunted for me in vain; but George sought me out. As I lay upon the floor, I heard his voice asking, 'Is Frank Balch here?' There was none of the stiffness of an officer in his greeting, and I knew at once that we met on the old terms. He seemed to me more sober than of old. His manner was as frank and as candid as ever, but more subdued. But one thing about him was certainly unchanged: his 'pluck' - for I know no so good word for it—was the same. He reminded me of the old times when he used to plunge headlong into the struggling mass of football players, not to make a show of courage, as was the case with some, but with a most uncompromising determination to drive the ball to the goal. Yet that you know was a most disheartening time. We were retreating; we feared McClellan would resign as soon as we were in a place of safety; and the campaign in the West seemed almost as disastrous as that in the East." That he bore constantly in mind his liability to pass suddenly from this earth, to him so bright and beautiful, we learn from the careful arrangement of his worldly affairs, and the anxiety he manifested to "set his house in order." As early as June 1, 1862, at the time of the battle of Fair Oaks, we find this entry in his memorandum, as if hastily written in pencil: "Bills which, in case of my death, I wish paid with money due me by the United States." Also, "My watch to be given to my brother Charles, my books to my father and mother, and after their death to Harvard College.' "And on September 16th, the day before his death, a statement of his affairs, with directions for their settlement, "in the event," as he says, "of my death in action." The beloved only brother, so affectionately remembered in the midst of danger, was at the date of the bequest serving his country in the Department of the Gulf. Being seized with fever brought on by fatigue and exposure at the battle of Baton Rouge, he breathed out his soul on the 9th of September, eight days before the death of George. Each of these brothers was spared the grief of mourning the loss of the other, and the knowledge of the double sorrow which awaited the loved circle at home. Kind hands tenderly conveyed their worn and mutilated bodies to their native city; and on the 5th of November, as the shades of evening were falling upon the earth, they were together gently laid to rest in a soldier's grave. HENRY MAY BOND. Sergeant 45th Mass. Vols. (Infantry), October 8, 1862-July 8, 1863; H ENRY MAY BOND was born at Boston, April 3, 1836. His parents were George William Bond and Sophia A. (May) Bond. A gentle, conscientious, and affectionate boy, he was not much given to rough boys' plays, but he was manly, and not wanting on occasion in that energy and persistence which belonged to him in virtue of his Huguenot as well as Puritan descent. Mr. C. K. Dillaway, who fitted him for college, writes: "When under my instructions he had, as you remember, an infirmity of the eyes, which rendered his progress very difficult and painful. Most young men would have been discouraged he never was. From the beginning to the end, he allowed nothing to dishearten him.' But what struck one most in his character at that time was his love of home, and the entire frankness of his intercourse with father and mother, - not his own mother, she having died when he was very young, - adding to the love of parent and child that of intimate and dear friends. Going out into the world from that home, sweet and sunny with Christian love, he carried with him in its memory and teachings a shield against the many temptations which beset his impressionable nature. He was fitted for Harvard College chiefly by Mr. Dillaway, and entered as a Freshman, in 1855, with his younger brother William; the two brothers being chums in college, as they were to be afterwards comrades in battle. warm social nature found much to enjoy in college life, His and his affections took deep root there. He was known and loved by the whole Class as "H. M.," simple-hearted, diffident of himself, generous, cheery, impulsive; but those who knew him best saw under his lighter qualities a sound judgment, a strong will, a conscientious regard of duty. He had a wholesome and intelligent enjoyment of books, but he was not by nature a student, and his eyes moreover would not bear hard study. He had a strong love of music, and made it a source of enjoyment to himself and others, while to himself it seemed something more and higher. He was not witty, but full of off-hand gayety and contagious good spirits. There was a charming cordiality and heartiness about his manner. He was very fond of society, especially that of ladies, and was a great favorite wherever he went. With a keen susceptibility to all the pleasures of the senses, he was perfectly pure and temperate. General Macy says of him, "He was the purest man I ever knew." He knew where to turn for strength. In his Junior year he joined the Church; his father's pastor and warm friend, James Freeman Clarke, becoming his also. He carried into his relations with the Church the same frank kindliness, the same hearty earnestness, that he showed in the other relations of life. His religion, like all else in him, was practical. Mr. Clarke summed it up in a few words, as "a simple honest purpose to do right and be right." He was a thorough man, fresh and natural, made for the innocent enjoyment of this life and to make others enjoy it. He loved to do, and knew how to do, little kindnesses. He lived in the life around him, and not in the clouds. He had strong dislikes as well as affections, and was not above a good honest prejudice. After graduating in 1859, he became partner in the house of Walker, Wise, & Co., booksellers and publishers in Boston. When war threatened, he with his brother William joined the Cadets, in order to prepare themselves to do their part, and were with them when they garrisoned Fort Warren in the spring of 1862. He felt the disasters on the Peninsula as a call to battle, and he helped to raise Company B of the Forty-fifth, or Cadet, Regiment, and went through the Newbern campaign as its First Sergeant, his brother William being First Lieutenant in the same company. The arrangement was equally honorable to both, Henry giving up his claim to a commission in order that William, who had volunteered as a private, and been rejected on the ground of near-sightedness, might be able to go. In what spirit he accepted this position may be seen from an extract from a letter dated Newbern, March 21, 1863. "When I took my present position I really gloried in the thought that I was going to have a position where I could do a great deal of good to my fellow-men. But I feel that I have sadly neglected. and lost that golden opportunity." But he had won the hearts of his men, and left stamped. upon them the memory of a Christian soldier. As one of them said on his return to a friend of the family, inquiring about the Bonds: "Lieutenant Bond was a good officer and a brave man, and the men liked him; but Orderly Bond the men would follow anywhere. He was a brave man; and such bravery, Christian bravery!" He was first under fire at Kinston. He writes: "I had sometimes expressed a fear that I might prove myself a coward in battle, but I was determined, if my will could effect anything, my friends should not be thus disgraced. The last few moments before going into the Kinston fight I felt perfectly calm, and was exhorting my men, whenever I got a chance, to keep cool and take a deliberate aim; my only prayer being, as we advanced into line of battle, that which I have heard our Mr. Clarke say never failed to be heard, 'God help me!— help me to keep my selfpossession for the sake of my men.' I somehow felt as if my prayer was answered immediately; for I felt perfectly cool and fearless, although we were led into a nasty place, if there ever was one. I could not help feeling a little pleased to overhear some of .... |