The worst has happened — our fearful suspense is over:
Willy, the gentle, tender-hearted, brave boy, lies in a soldier's grave on the
Plains of Manassas! This has been a day of weeping and of woe to this
household. I did not know how I loved the dear boy. My heart is wrung with
grief to think that his sweet face, his genial smile, his sympathetic heart are
gone. My eyes ache with weeping. But what is the loss to me, compared to the
loss to his Father, his sisters, his brothers! Oh! his precious stricken
Father! God support him to bear the blow! The carriage has returned, bringing
me a note from Mr. P. saying he had heard there was faint hope. Alas! the beloved
son has been five days in his grave. My poor husband! Oh! if he were only here,
to groan out his anguish on my bosom. I can't write more.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and
Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 147
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