. Lincoln and the sleeping sentinel; the true story. crossed his hands on his breast,and—and—that was all. His face was atrest, and we all said it was beautiful. Strongmen stood around his bed; they had seentheir comrades fall, and had been very nearto death themselves: such men are accus-tomed to control their feelings; but nowthey wept like children. One only spoke,as if to himself: * Thank God, I know nowhow a brave man dies! ** Scott would have been satisfied to restin the same grave with his comrades/ thewounded soldier continued. But we want-ed to know where he lay. There was asmall grov
. Lincoln and the sleeping sentinel; the true story. crossed his hands on his breast,and—and—that was all. His face was atrest, and we all said it was beautiful. Strongmen stood around his bed; they had seentheir comrades fall, and had been very nearto death themselves: such men are accus-tomed to control their feelings; but nowthey wept like children. One only spoke,as if to himself: * Thank God, I know nowhow a brave man dies! ** Scott would have been satisfied to restin the same grave with his comrades/ thewounded soldier continued. But we want-ed to know where he lay. There was asmall grove of cherry-trees just in the rear of the camp, with a noble oak in its centre. 48 Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel At the foot of this oak we dug his we laid him, with his empty rifle andaccoutrements by his side. Deep into theoak we cut the initials, * and under itthe words, * A brave soldier/ Our chaplainsaid a short prayer. We fired a volley overhis grave. Will you carry his last messageto the President ?I answered: OME days passed before I againmet the President. When I sawhim I asked if he rememberedWilliam Scott. Of Company K, Third Ver-mont Volunteers ? he answered. Cer-tainly I do. He was the boy that BaldySmith wanted to shoot at the Chain about William Scott ? He is dead. He was killed on thePeninsula, I answered. u I have a messagefrom him for you, which I have promisedone of his comrades to deliver. A look of tenderness swept over his faceas he exclaimed: ** Poor boy! Poor boy! And so he is dead! And he sent me a 50 Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel message! Well, I think I will not have itnow* I will come and see you. He kept his promise. Before many dayshe made one of his welcome visits to myoffice* He said he had come to hear Scottsmessage. I gave it as nearly as possible inScotts own words. Mr. Lincoln had perfectcontrol of his own countenance: when hechose, he could make it a blank; when hedid not care to control it, hi
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