Where the buzzard, flying,
Pauses at Malvern Hill.

When I learned of his death, a duty fell upon me. He had written in one
of his letters that if he did not return from the war he would like to
have me tell his mother the true history of his life. He had concealed
from her his struggles in reference to color. She knew nothing of his
trials at Whitesboro or at Philadelphia. No words had ever passed
between them upon the subject. He thought it better, if he lived, that
she should never know, but if he died he wished that his history should
be fully made known to her.

I made the journey on horseback over the ground I have already
described. It was a delightful autumn day when I passed through the
village of Champion and went on to Mrs. Brown's home. She was expecting
me, as I had written in advance announcing my intended visit. I could
see that she was greatly pleased to receive me. I had been at the house
two days before I ventured to introduce, in a formal manner, the subject
of my mission. Talking of old times, and leading gradually up to the
subject, I frankly stated that Anthony had charged me to tell her the
story of his personal history, and I exhibited his letter to her. It was
after dinner, as we were sitting in the front room reading and talking.
Mrs. Brown immediately became excited and anxious to hear. As I
disclosed the sorrow of Anthony's life and related the particulars of
his career, the effect upon her was not at all what I had expected. She
became more and more excited and distressed. At last she called sharply
to her servant-girl, Melissa, and told her to go and bring Father
Michael, and to bid him come immediately. While Melissa was gone, Mrs.
Brown, with a great deal of agitation in her manner, proceeded to
question me in regard to the incidents of Anthony's career in