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Among the myriads who responded to the Presidents call, and offered their lives and their all for the maintenance of the constitution and the Laws, for the overthrow of an organized rebellion aiming at the userpation of the government, were many of our citizens. A company was soon gathered and officered. After many delays, the causes familiar to you all, they left for camp. They were soon transferred to another regiment, and on the 8th of August left for the activities and conflicts of the Potomac. At length they were for a soldiers life, permanently encamped at Poolesville Md., where in drill and picket duty they fitted for and engaged in the service of their country. On Oct. 21st, the company were engaged in the illy planned and disastrous contest of Ball’s Bluff. The sad scenes which were there enacted will ever make that day and night one of dreaded memory. They have been described to you by those whom experience fits to narrate as I cannot. After bravely doing their duty, fighting like men, retreating with more honor than they fought, they are driven to the rivers brink, and to the alternative of “peril by water” or “peril by countryman”. A portion plunge into the cold gloomy stream whose swollen flood with widely sundered banks entombed so many of our brave. Most of our friends, after struggles that the memory of the loved and praying at home and trust in God alone gave the power to continue, reached the bank, and found their way to the camp and relief. Others hesitated and influenced by a just prudence prefered to await the chances of war. One by one they were discovered and gathered into line by the superior force that surrounded them. A midnight began that long inhuman march, without food or rest to Manassas battlefield. Thence by cars to Richmond. here they were herded as cattle in gloomy tobacco shops, filled with vermin, deprived of all the comforts and many of the necessities of life. Among those who first enlisted, who zealously engaged in all the routine of a soldier’s life who with the brave bravely fought, was WILLIAM F. CONVERSE. With others he step by step contested the field, till he reached the bluff that overhung the Potomac. For him to attempt the river he knew would be death. Life had hope in bondage, but none in struggling with the rapid stream. He was taken prisoner, and with the others arrived in Richmond unharmed in the casualties of war and vigorous in body and mind. in the long days that followed he did much to relieve the despondency of others. After two or three months however he sickened, yet remained in the quarters with his comrades, till the fever turned and he was carried to the hospital. From this sickness he so far recovered as to return to his comrades. Consequent upon this recovery, nature in recruiting her wonted strength and energies, clamored incessantly for food. For a while the appetite was indulged with seeming impunity. On Friday or Saturday of February, second week, he received money from home. Thinking that other and more inviting food than his prison fare would not only be pleasing to the taste, but good for his health, he purchased as desire dictated and ate. It was to much for his organs, not yet recovered their healthy tone, and a relapse, sudden and fatal followed. On Saturday night, one of his friends was awakened by hearing heavy groans. He arose and found that it was our brother, intensely suffering from pain in his head. By his advice he bathed it in cold water, and returned to his couch, probably succeeded in resting for most of the time till morning., when he awoke shivering cold. At roll call the comrade above mentioned advised him to respond “sick” that he might be taken to the hospital and be placed under medical care. He refused, hoping soon to be better, influenced chiefly however, by the expectation that his name would be read from the list of exchanged prisoners. An announcement they had eagerly been waiting more than a week. He feared it would be more difficult to leave the hospital than the quarters. In the forenoon however he grew so sick that he consented to the removal; and a kind hearted comrade bore him to the hospital. During the day he said but little; his suffering chiefly occupying his mind. During the evening the disease made such progress as to overpower reason, a victory firmly held, with a few lucid moments excepted, till death. Home his brothers, sisters, and friends, were the paramount thoughts even of his delirium. In the morning for a few moments he rallied, and to a brother’s question, “If he wished anything,” he responded, “I am dry”. Coffee was given him. He thanked the giver, calling him by name. It was only for a moment. Reason again retreated. He was now in a battle where the odds against him were more fearful than in the opining where he and others stood, with firm front for liberty and right. Step by step, as there, life retreated, each rally more faint, more feeble, till disease pushed him down the dark banks into the cold cold stream of death, and there we lose sight for him forever from the shores of time. God grant that though unseen by us, he may have stemmed the swift current, and that now on the farther shore, he with the blessed serves day and night the Captain of our salvation. Thus died in Richmond, Feb. 13 William F. Converse, a prisoner of war, the oldest son of Charles and Caroline Converse of this town, aged 20 years and 8 months. His body was placed in a coffin, packed in charcoal, and the place of his burial marked and registered. Had his comrades been released as early as at first contemplated they would have brought with them the body. As it is we may well hope that ere the leaf now green above his grave shall fade, all that is mortal of our brother may rest in our quiet cemetery where the willow and the marble shall watch the dust of the dead and receive the tears of the living. But the physical life is not all, nor the chief life of man. A higher and nobler is that of the mind and soul. Of this life the childhood is here, the manhood eternal hereafter. The deceased had a ready inventive mind, was quit but resolute and vigorous. Had he been spared he would have usefully filled his station in life. his morals when at home were without a stain, and amid all the perils of the camp he held fast to his integrity. In his letters we find frequent indication of his love for his country, at whose altar he ministered, and in whose service he has won a martyr’s crown. Writing from Poolesville early in September, he remarks, “We do not know how long we shall stay here; we may be ordered into battle at any time; if we are we shall do the best we can, we shall not run off if we are.” Again, “I wish this might be settled without much fighting, but we do not want any compromise now, it is to late for that. I think this war will be a death blow to slavery.” We find also a love for the Sabbath, and a regard for religion that consoles our hearts. from his diary we quote the following: In his letters to friends, he besought at different times their prayers. To one he writes,” he hoped that if they were not permitted to meet again on earth, that they might meet in heaven.” From extended opportunities arising in my relation to him, as pastor and teacher, I gathered that he was well disposed toward religion and convinced of his duty in relation to it. To all questions having a bearing upon his duties to God, and needs as a sinner, he answered in such a manner as to lead me to hope that he would soon become loyal to God. Indeed one of the regrets that I had at his leaving, was the blighting of the hope that I might be permitted to welcome him to the church, and to my side as a faithful and beloved brother. I speak only the simple truth when I say that he was loved at home, in the sabbath school, in the camp and prison, by all, and now that he is gone, we are all mourners. Peace to his ashes, and rest to his soul. To you who were his comrades in camp, a sharer with him in the fortunes of battle, a sufferer with him on that inhuman march, and during the cheerless days and months of your bondage, are returned by us all grateful thanks for the kindness with which you ministered to his wants, as he wasted with disease. We thank you for your tender solicitude for his friends, and the earnest efforts given over only when in vain, to bring with you all that death has left us to cherish. ... May we all so live that each night we may sing and pray in the sweet words of Alice Carey, (words found in the diary of the deceased, and which may we not hope be made his own): |