In them was all that
remained of many stout hearts, with whom, side by side, he had marched
to glory and victory. There were the forms with whom he had triumphantly
mounted the battlements at Vera Cruz, and raised the stars and stripes
over the city of Mexico. There, before him, forever silent, were the
dead heroes of Chepultepec and Perote. Those with whom he had endured
toils and hardships of no common nature,--with whom he had contended
against a treacherous foe, and a more treacherous climate,--were there
encoffined before him. They died in defence of their country's honor;
and he almost envied them the death which wrote their names, subject to
no future stain, upon the roll of fame.
The sight of these boxes, and a knowledge of their contents, also
awakened sad reflections in the mind of Uncle Nathan. But his
reflections were of a different character from those of the soldier. War
he regarded as an unnecessary evil,--one which men had no more right to
countenance than they had the deeds of the midnight assassin. The honor
of a nation were better sacrificed than that the blood of innocent men
should flow in its support.
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