“MY DEAR FRIEND: I cannot sleep to-night till I record an expression of the deep feelings of my heart to you, and to the officers and soldiers of the battalion, for their kind behavior to my poor child. I realize that you all feel for my family the attachment of kindred; and I assure you all of full reciprocity. Consistent with a sense of duty to my profession and office, I could not leave my post, and sent for my family to come to me in that fatal climate, and in that sickly period of the year, and behold the result! The child that bore my name, and in whose future I reposed with more confidence than I did in my own plans of life, now floats a mere corpse, seeking a grave in a distant land, with a weeping mother, brother, and sisters clustered about him. But, for myself I can ask no sympathy. On, on, I must go to meet a soldier’s fate, or see my country rise superior to all factions, till its flag is adored and respected by ourselves and all the powers of the earth. “But my poor Willy was, or thought he was, a sergeant of the Thirteenth. I have seen his eye brighten and his heart beat as he beheld the battalion under arms, and asked me if they were not real soldiers. Child as he was, he had the enthusiasm, the pure love of truth, honor, and love of country, which should animate all soldiers. God only knows why he should die thus young. He is dead, but will not be forgotten till those who knew him in life have followed him to that same mysterious end. “Please convey to the battalion my heartfelt thanks, and assure each and all that if, in after years, they call on me or mine, and mention that they were of the Thirteenth Regulars, when poor Willy was a sergeant, they will have a key to the affections of my family that will open all it has—that we will share with them our last blanket, our last crust. “Your friend, W. T. SHERMAN, _Maj.-Gen._” The noble Thirteenth did not stop in their expressions of sympathy with words. The chieftain went to his war-path, while the sculptor’s chisel was busy on the marble, until it formed a lasting memorial of manly affection cherished by the troops for father and son. Wrote one who saw it in Cincinnati before it was removed to the “silent city:”