Greensborough Patriot

February 5, 1863

Page 4

 

IN MEMORY OF SERGEANT J W LUTHER

On the battle field near Fredericksburg on the 13th of December 1862, Sergeant J. W. Luther sacrificed his life in his country’s cause.  He was a native of Randolph county, N. C., aged 26 years and 6 months, and a son of Martin and Sarah Luther.  At an early period of the war he promptly responded to Carolina’s call, and nobly stepped forward to aid in the great struggle for liberty.  He was a member of Co. L 22nd Regiment N. C. Troops.  He loved his country with all the order of a warm and generous nature, and his comrades bear testimony that he promptly and cheerfully discharged his whole duty.  He had participated in twelve regular fought battles, and at the battle of Cedar Run, the other officers being absent, he was in command of Co. L and led his brother soldiers nobly through, acting the part of a brave and noble soldier.  While at home, he had acquired many of the treasures of learning ad literature, and his cultivated mind was ever eager to follow still farther the shining footprints of Master Spirits up the steps of knowledge and honor.  But! He is gone!  He has made his mark, one that will live after many that have survived him.  It was hard for him to be killed after performing so many kind duties, and had made his escape through so many battles, and had done so much for the cause of the South, and then hit by a random shell which killed him instantly.  Alas, that one so young, so promising, should be cut down so soon!  But death loves a shining mark, and stays not his hand for art or fortune, or talents angel bright.  His work is done.  His race though short is run.  Let him rest from his labors.  How many joys, sorrows, regrets, noble feelings and perished sentiments have gone with his once human possession to the dust beneath the damp and heavy sod, which the dews of night, the light of morn and the hot burning sunshine of noon alternately decorate and vivify.  What is the grave but the outer gate of life eternal?  And what is earth which but entombs the body?  The triumph infinite.  The king of terrors is the Prince of Peace.  His remains were taken up after having been interred a month near Fredericksburg and brought to his native home in N. C., and reinterred side by side with his little niece in the church yard at Oak Grove.  He has left a father and mother, a brother in Co. L, one brother at Wilmington, three sisters and many friends to lament his early death;  Farewell! kind, generous, noble hearted WHIT.  Your brave comrades on the weary march and by the bivouac fire will often think of you and your deeds of kindness, love and charity.  The companions of your schoolboy and college days will often think of you, and of their sweet communion with your guileless spirit.  Loved ones at home have consecrated your grave with many a tear and as long as their hearts are warm they will think of you and weep for your early doom.

PARTHENA L…

[Transcribed by Sharon Strout]