| John F. Bixby
The young man whose name stands at the head of this article was a native of Worcester, and the son of Austin W. Bixby, who is still an esteemed fellow citizen. At the commencement of the southern insurrection he had but just completed his seventeenth year. Though unaccustomed to labor, and too young to have thought much about the duties of a citizen to his country, the latent virtue of patriotism within him was immediately awakened, and struggled for manifestation. He and his brother, who is now a corporal in the 25th regiment, soon joined a company, which, however in consequence of some informality, was soon disbanded. The return of the 6th regiment gave his ardent patriotism a fresh impulse, and he was impatient to be in the service of his country. though he was still, as ever reverently obedient to his parents, he could not be dissuaded. He pleaded with his mother for her consent. When she reminded him of the dangers to be incurred, and inquired if he felt prepared to meet the worst, he replied, after a little thoughtful hesitation, that some must go and he might as well go as others. She could not do violence to that virtue which was almost a passion, and gave her consent on condition that his father must also give his. With this encouragement he pleaded with his father, who also could not deny him; but, through doubting his fitness on the score of both age and physical strength, gave him leave to visit the camp of the 15th regiment and advise with Capt. Studley. The Worcester Company was full, and the young patriot was dissapointed. Rather than wait and enlist with friends and acquaintances in some regiment yet to be formed, he preferred to go at once, even though with entire strangers. On searching he found a single vacancy in the company from Northbridge, and enlisted under Capt. Philbrick. The regiment was to leave on the following week for the seat of the war. With a brief furlough for preparation, he bade a cheerful farewell to home and friends, and was soon at Georgetown, awaiting orders for active service against the foe. He had not long to wait, having fallen to a regiment destined for distinction in the fortunes and misfortunes of war; and for two years he shared heroically its hazards and hardships through a long series of skirmishes and battles. Though his regiment was reduced and recruited by a large number of men, and again reduced to four score, he lost little time by sickness and received not an injury. His exposures were many and fearful, and he had many hair breath escapes. On that night made memorable by the affair at Ball’s Bluff, he saved his life and freedom by swimming the Potomac. In the battle of Antietam bullets struck his musket and grazed his neck. At Chancellorsville his cap was grazed, and a fragment of shell struck between his feet. The like good fortune he experienced at Gettysburg, though the fighting was such that he never saw or heard of. So far as is known to us his heart never failed him, but reposed on that kind Providence to whom he was so often constrained to ascribe his preservation. As expressive of his own feelings, he cut from some paper and sent to his mother a short poem, in which are the following stanzas: Some unseen power preserves me And my heart is still in keeping After the battle of Gettysburg young Bixby, worn and needing rest, was detailed for service in the general hospital at that place. His station was a responsible one, but he discharged his duties with great acceptance, patience and fortitude; endearing himself to the sufferers under his charge, and sleeping but three entire nights in twice as many weeks. This service seems to have prepared the way for disease, and about the first of September he was attacked with typhoid fever and died on the 12th, in the hope, it is believed, of the blessedness of the just. It is believed, from his well known character at home, and from inquiries concerning him while away, that he had no bad habits, that he was pure and upright in his intercourse with his fellows, and that his devotion to the cause of his country was genuine and undiminished to the end. His death is a bereavement to his native city as well as to his friends. His parents were permitted the sad satisfaction, not of seeing him in his sickness, but of looking upon his lifeless form and burying it in that field of many graves, from which, according to their purpose, it had already doubtless been removed and interred in the Union Cemetery, then in preparation and yesterday consecrated to the memory of patriot martyrs whom the nation will delight to honor till the United States of America shall disappear from the map of the continent. Young Bixby was one of a considerable number who have already fallen in battle or by disease, from this city. Many others we trust, will survive the war, and return to enjoy the well deserved fame of their heroic achievements. But shall the deceased be forgotten when the survivors shall be honored? Do not those who have fallen, as sacrifces on the altar of their country, deserve a special and permanent memorial? The graves of some of them will be marked by no stone, and will never be identified by their friends. A monument better than marble, however would be a volume containing a brief sketch of the life and character and deeds and suffering of each. Such a memorial would be not only a gratification to their rerspective circle of friends, but a valuable portion of the history of what the City of Worcester contributed to the quelling of the great rebellion. Who would take this matter in hand? He who should do it as a labor of love would be in no danger of pecuniary loss. |