you not also rejoice as you mourn? Do you not also thank God for the great opportunity he has given you to render up in his service these precious lambs, these costly offerings? Ah! I know that you feel thus. I have seen it in your serene look of inward joy, which tells me you are talking with your angels. They have not wholly left you. They go, but they return. To each of these noble brothers of ours we look and speak from the depths of our truest instincts and insight.

'So we may lift from out the dust

A voice as unto him that hears,
A cry above the conquered years,
To one that with us works, and trust.

'Known and unknown, human, divine!

Sweet human hand, and lips, and eye,
Dear heavenly friend that cannot die,
Mine, mine forever, ever mine!

'So all is well, though faith and form

Be sundered in the night of fear.

Well roars the storm to those who hear
A deeper voice across the storm.'"

The addresses were followed by the singing of a hymn written for the occasion, by Mrs. J. H. Hanaford.

"Softly sing the requiem holy

O'er this still, most precious clay,
Loving hearts are bending lowly
'Neath the chastening rod, to-day.

"Father! in thy care we leave him

Whom our hearts have loved so well.
Nevermore earth's sin shall grieve him,
Now with thee his soul shall dwell.

"There with loved ones gone before him,
He will wait our steps to greet;
With the sainted one who bore him,

Sing the angel-anthem sweet.

"Grieve we not in hopeless sorrow,

O'er our honored hero slain,
Soon shall dawn a brighter morrow,

And we all shall meet again."

"The hearse which bore his remains to their last restingplace in Mount Auburn was draped with the national colors and trimmed with rosettes of black and white, and drawn by four horses wearing heavy black plumes. A large number of mourners followed the remains to the grave, and dropped their tears over the sepulchre of this fallen patriot and philanthropist."*

"Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem."

HE libation of the Chaplain's life has been, we trust, accepted, like the sacrifice of Abel, and he has taken his place under the altar with the souls of those slain for the word of

God. His devotion touched the hearts of his countrymen; nor was it regarded as out of keeping with the sacred office he had so recently laid temporarily aside, nor as a close unmeet for a life of religious and philanthropic labors. Although it is not a common event for a chaplain to enter the lists of the combatants, yet loyal hearts felt that the exigency of a holy cause rendered the act noble, appropriate, and heroical.

One of the first expressions in reference to it came from the heart of the chief magistrate of Massachusetts, whose patriotic and zealous discharge of his high duties in this our national crisis will win for his name a proud place on the page of history. We insert the letter:

"COMMONWEALTH OF MASSACHUSETTS.

"EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT, BOSTON, Dec. 15, 1862.

"RICHARD F. FULLER, ESQ., Court Street, Boston.

66

My dear Sir: I observe, with grief at the loss sustained by his friends and by the service, but with admiration for his

heroic enthusiasm, the death of your brother, the Rev. Arthur B. Fuller, Chaplain of the Sixteenth Massachusetts Regiment, while fighting in the ranks of the Nineteenth Massachusetts as a volunteer, in the battle of Fredericksburg.

“My long and intimate acquaintance with him and all your family render this instance of bravery and of affliction one of unusual interest, as it really is of unusual pathos.

"His conduct was worthy his State and his blood. It will be forever remembered. Nor was it too soon for a good man to die, falling as he did in splendid devotion to a sublime idea of duty, adventuring his life beyond the necessities of his position or the occasion of his office, but not beyond the dictates of an ardent nature, nor, in my judgment, beyond the highest and best idea of the example and decorum of the occasion.

"How many friends at home, how many soldiers in the field, will feel kindled, consoled, and encouraged by this exceptional and more conspicuous act of unselfish and spontaneous patriotism.

"I am faithfully, your friend and servant,

"JOHN A. ANDREW."

Such, too, was the sentiment of the army. We quote from a sermon by Rev. Edward A. Walker, recently chaplain of the 1st Conn. Vol. H. Artillery.

"I have just heard of the death of Chaplain Fuller of the Sixteenth Massachusetts Volunteers, one of the most earnest and faithful officers in the service. I visited him once at Fortress Monroe, and saw the results of his labors in his own regiment, and met him afterward repeatedly in circumstances where his ability and energy were abundantly exhibited. After the battle of Malvern Hill, when our forces removed to Harrison's Landing, and when some five thousand wounded and disabled men were gathered at the old Harrison estate,

Chaplain Fuller rendered himself eminently serviceable, ministering both to the spiritual and physical wants of the sufferers.

"The miserable condition of these men can scarcely be described. After a week of fighting and marching, the heat having been oppressive and the air thick with penetrating dust, they arrived by night in a drenching rain at the Harrison estate. The overseer had been directed, in the event of the coming of the Federal troops, to destroy whatever he could not secrete; but our coming was so sudden as to prevent this. The house was soon filled from cellar to garret by those whose wounds were not so serious as to impede their locomotion. Then those wounded in the legs, or who had suffered much from loss of blood, came feebly up and filled all places about the dwelling that were left, some crawling under the bushes in the garden, others lying by the fences, and others still sinking directly down into the mud, glad of the sight of a house and shelter, and of the hope of medical attendance. Within, the floor was so occupied with men, that all passage was for a time impossible. The carpets were covered with mud and stains of blood, while the rich mirrors, furniture, and paintings presented a painful contrast of domestic luxury with all the horrors of war.

"Amid these scenes of suffering, Chaplain Fuller labored with untiring energy, now unobtrusively assisting the surgeons in their more arduous labors, now bringing food and drink to those who were unable to help themselves, now speaking words of comfort and religious consolation to the disheartened, himself at all times cheerful, patient, and help

ful.

"With regard to the circumstances of his death, although he was shot with musket in hand while taking part in the attack on Fredericksburg, I cannot believe that he was out of his proper place, or acting otherwise than with a conscien