"The manner, Madam, in which these martial gifts have been presented to me—coming as they do from the hands of one of the gentler sex, and surrounded as I am by so numerous an assemblage of fair women and brave men—naturally calls to my mind those chivalric days of England's earliest kings, when around the Round Table of the good and gallant Arthur, valorous knights modestly told their loves, and feats of arms; when the fair Countess of Brittany and Montford stooped to bind the sash and sword around the waists of the bold Sir Tristam, and the generous Knight, Sir Lancelot; when the fair Lady Isabella, and the beautiful Eloisa, beside prancing steeds, gracefully knelt and fixed the spurs to their gallant knights; when the brave Templar of Ivanhoe won his fair Rowena by his faithful arms; when love was the crowning grace—the grandeur of the soldier's toils and bravery in woman's eyes the dearest quality of the manly mind. In accepting this sword, on this occasion, from your fair hands, I Would not entirely forget the noble examples of those chivalric times; but I will remember their many virtues, their mercy towards the helpless, and their kindness towards the oppressed. Be assured, Madam, that this sword, now entrusted to me by you, shall never be tarnished with one ignoble or ungenerous action; that as it now comes from your hands, bright and unsullied, so shall it be sheathed, when this war shall have ceased and peace shall have been restored throughout the land. When the skillful armorers of Saragossa presented their new made swords to the brwe knights of old, they first plunged them, hot from the forge, into the river Stalo, and thus tempered, baptized them with a sacred name, and dedicated them to some noble cause. This night I receive this sword, tempered by your eloquent and burning words, and forever dedicate it to the freedom and preservation of my country. Inspired by your commands, I receive this sword, and with the Trojan hero, as the Greeks threatened his beloved Troy, confidently exclaim:

"If the Union can be defended by any right hand, even by this, it shall be defended.

"In the sentiments which you have so eloquently and feelingly expressed in regard to this war, I fully concur. I have long and confidently believed that God, looking down from His Eternal Throne of Justice upon the American people, from the formation of our Government, and despairing, after a long and faithful trial, that justice and right would ever be done to the down-trodden slave, either by the North or the South, at last has taken their emancipation upon Himself. I believe that it is God's divine purpose, having used the wrath of the South to commence this war, to cause that wrath to praise Him by the freedom of every slave. And I also confidently believe that this war, under his Providence, will be made just severe enough to effect this object; and that it will he ended by God only when we, as individuals, both North and South, shall see and realize this Divine object. Be assured, Madam, that in this war

Bearing no unkind or ungenerous spirit towards the South, but at the same time determined to defend my country to the last, on this Divinity, in conducting this war to a happy and glorious peace, I alone rely.

"With feelings thus inspired, I receive these military arms and equipments from your hands. But be assured that in doing so, I accept them relying not boastingly or confidently upon my own strength. I receive them, feeling deeply the responsibility of the sacred trust imposed upon me by your kindness, and trusting for their unsullied keeping entirely to that Being who never forsakes the brave and the faithful, who in the day of battle and of trial, put their trust in Him alone. I accept them as a Christian, feeling that they are to be used in a most holy cause—a cause that God will bless, and in His own wise time and way bring to a happy and glorious issue. I accept them as a patriot, proudly remembering the blessings and the glory of our country's past, and anxiously trusting that the same glory and blessings, so abundantly shared by us, may be transmitted to our children. I accept them as a soldier, willing to leave all, sacrifice all (save a Saviour's love), willing to offer up my life, if need be, for my country; for in the loss of our country all is lost, and whoever of us shall be so unhappy as to survive his country, can but feel that he has already lived too long."

The subsequent history of this regiment, and the glorious record made by it, are well known. Young Rice was shortly promoted to its command, and led it through all the hard fighting of the seven days' battles before Richmond, in the campaign of 1862. It was here that the soldiers learned, in their hardships and sufiierings, that they had in their Colonel, a friend whose heart was ever open to their needs, and that their comfort was ever his first solicitude. The noble men of this splendid regiment, who have escaped the dangers of the battle field, uniformly bear grateful testimony to the constant kindness and sympathy of Col. Rice. At the battle of Gettysburg he had charge of a brigade, and here, in the language of an eye-witness of that day's terrible conflict, "he again distinguished himself by his gallantry and skill. He was highly spoken of by Gen. Meade, for his conduct on this occasion, and earnestly recommended by him, as well as by Generals Hooker and Butterfield, for an appointment of brigadier general of volunteers. The President acquiesced in the wishes of these officers, and Col. Rice was presented with his commission, dating from the day of the battle of Gettysburg." Gen. Rice was now assigned to the command of a brigade, and had a part in all the battles of the "Army of the Potomac," till the fatal bullet closed his earthly career, at the close of a desperate day's fight at Spottsylvania, Virginia.

Gen. Rice's last letter, addressed to his aged mother, reveals the inner thoughts and workings of his soul. He said:

They will meet again where sorrow and parting are no more. We regret that after several efforts we have not been able to obtain a fuller account and more minute details of the career of this distinguished soldier and eminent Christian; but the following papers, from those who knew well the departed hero, afford a just and clear view of his pure and lofty character, and of the valuable services that he rendered to our country.

One of the most pleasant passages of my army experience, and one that I think will stay as freshly as any in my recollection, should my life go on to old age, is my last visit to Gen. Rice, at his head quarters near Culpepper Court House, a few days before we crossed the Rapidan and entered upon the late campaign, from the scenes of which he was fated so soon to disappear. I cannot say that he and I were friends, as our acquaintance had been recently formed; but I had often felt of late, that if his regard should keep pace with mine for a season, we were destined to become such; for it was not possible for one who knew him, to refrain his love. His soldiers, who sat down in the trenches before Spottsylvania, and sobbed when word passed along the line, "The General is dead!" can tell how that was, for they knew him, as he knew them.

The afternoon before the visit I speak of, I had ridden over to Culpepper—several miles from our camp—to pass the night with a friend; and just at sunset, having half an hour to spare, I called on the General. Had I no more than that short interview to recall concerning him, it was still enough to make me a mourner when he fell. He had lately written, to send to Mr. Whittier, that beautiful, sad story of the hospital, since published in the "Independent," and taking the manuscript from his portfolio, he read it aloud to me. His voice, subdued to the pathos of the subject, and the narrative itself, blended harmoniously with the soft shadows of the waning spring day that gathered around the reader's form as he stood in a western window for light, all together blend harmoniously with my present thoughts of the scene, now that, like the sergeant whose last hours he comforted, the General himself has halted and bivouacked forever.

When I rose to go, but not till the proposed half hour had twice expired, he asked me with true soldierly heartiness to stay till morning, and replied to my plea of a previous engagement: "Well, then, come out to-morrow and spend the forenoon; I shall be at liberty after nine o'clock, and we can talk over everything." I am very thankful now that there was nothing to forbid my acceptance of the invitation. When the orderly admitted me, at the time appointed, the General was giving audience to three private soldiers of his command, who had come for counsel in some matter. It was delightful to witness the spirit that presided at the interview. The grace with which his kindness met their confidence, showed that kindness and confidence were the law and custom of the place; yet no one could hwe failed to perceive that the proprieties of rank were not in the least article violated. That he was their commander, appeared as plain as that he was not their tyrant. When finally he dismissed them, satisfaction and gratitude shone in all their faces, and I comprehended why it was that once (as I heard himself tell, during the "Seven Days," in the summer of 1862, when he was Colonel, the remnant of his wasted regiment, ordered as a forlorn hope to save a battle well-nigh lost, followed him steadily up, struggling through the refluent tide of their own broken line, until it dashed, bayonet to bayonet, against that of the enemy, sweeping down fifty to one, and stopped it at the fearful cost of nearly half that started. The smile of encouragement by which he lighted the heart's of his men, and more than that, the frequent prayers he offered, kneeling in their midst, boded ill to the foe against which he led them.

Thus was my forenoon with Gen. Rice introduced. Before it ended, I heard him say many things that I wish might be told in his own noble words—it would honor his memory so much more than any representation of mine. But the long intervening agony of this campaign, whose battles have almost jostled each other—the echoes of one scarcely dying out before the thunder of the next begun—makes that quiet April day seem a great way back, and I cannot recall it as I would. His words, as he uttered them, are for the most part gone from me, but their substance and manner, and the impression they made on me, are as yesterday. His country was the one engrossing theme with him. He did not much discuss parties, or campaigns. Though he gave his opinions freely of both, neither political aspects nor alone the military situation appeared uppermost in his thought; but rather the true goal of our legislation and our arms—the advancement of Liberty. That it was the duty and privilege of the Nation to be free, was a truth that, on this day at least, possessed him utterly. He betrayed little interest in other things. We walked out, looked at the horses, talked somewhat of men and books, remembered our common alma mater, touched on a variety of topics, and occasionally a staff officer came with business; but whatever the diversion, the General each time soon returned to the cause, for which, soul and body, he was in arms; and listening, I felt the charm that dwells in consecration.

I wish again that I could repeat all the strong words his loyalty chose; but these I do remember: As we strolled through an orchard that adjoined his quarters, he stopped me by the shoulder, and. turning so that we faced each other, said, with a great weight of earnestness on every syllable, and his eye burning: "Why, I have thought this over so much, and have lain awake so many nights in anxiety for the country, and have grown to love her so — ." He did not conclude the sentence; out the intensity of his expression, and especially of the last clause, though it was tenderly spoken, was such, that to have added, "that I offer her my life," would have weakened the sense. After a silence, he continued: "If we should fail in this war, and I survive it, my course is determined. I shall never leave off fighting for liberty—if not in this country, in some other—if not with my sword, with my pen—to the end of my life." And so the General went on, as long as I remained his guest, breathing out his passionate devotion to the truth, for which, in a few days, he was to spill the blood of his brave heart; and knowing how many times his knighthood had been proven in the fires of conflict, he seemed to me, while speaking, as grand as a man could be.

Of the Christian piety, that was Gen. Rice's eminent trait, though it was manifest in his whole conversation, I have not spoken distinctively, because I had yet something to relate that would set it clearly forth. My desire to tell this, moved me, more than anything else, to write a sketch of the visit. As the day advanced to noon, and we returned from our walk to his room, we fell to talking of what would follow if our cause should be lost. The strain grew more and more sombre, till it drooped into silence—a silence which the General broke by saying, as one proposing the solution of a difficulty: "Suppose we pray." He rose, and taking the Bible from the shelf, opened it and read the fourth chapter of 2d Corinthians—"Therefore, seeing we have this ministry," etc.,—after a manner that showed how deeply he felt that a ministry had been committed to him. At the eighth verse he paused to look up and smile; when the reading was ended, we kneeled down. He drew very near the Throne, revealing how closely a Christian soldier may walk with God. It is not often that any single passage of a life can be taken as a specimen of the whole, and especially the ordinary, every-day expression of a great and useful career is not up to the level of a grand significance; but I think that this prayer of Gen. Rice, written over his tomb, might stand as a just monument and record, to tell the true history of what he was. It was the last of earth between the General and me. As we rose from our knees, he remarked, in a cheerful tone: "It looks brighter, doesn't it?" and I, feeling that the visit was complete, soon took my leave.

We give the account of these services from the "Wisconsin Puritan," because of the additional facts of interest that the article contains relative to our departed hero.

Under the above title, we find in the "New York Evangelist" of May 19th, an account of the funeral services of the late Brigadier General James C. Rice, who fell mortally wounded while leading his troops, on Tuesday, May 10th, in the late series of battles in Virginia. We copy the account in full, for two reasons: First; we of Milwaukie and Wisconsin have a kind of inheritance in this departed hero, by virtue of his brother, John Rice, Esq., in this city, to whom was written his last letter, just on the eve of the campaign in which he nobly laid down his life. Secondly; in Gen. Rice were beautifully and grandly united the Christian, the patriot and the hero.

In civil life there are some who combine the characteristics of a Christian and a patriot. In military life there are less such. Few in either class add to the other two qualities, so excellent in themselves, the undaunted valor and intrepidity of a hero. Let his name be held up now and in all history, for emulation. Look at a few last things concerning Gen. Rice. He closed his last letter thus:

His last words were: "Turn me over and let me die with my face to the enemy; " and the dispatch from the battle field, announcing his last breath, was: "He fell at the head of his column, where he was to be found in every fight." He was in twenty battles. How marvellous did he escape in all the preceding. God spared him, not only to serve his country through her greatest peril, but to give him- time and occasion to leave a name and influence for posterity. The treasure will lie governed with fond affection and great respect. We have seen the whole of his last letter referred to. The writer seems to us to have had a premonition that it was his last campaign. We should judge that he had just closed a letter to his beloved wife. He then turns to his brother and touchingly speaks of his companion, and makes a brother's statements and requests (which may not be spread before the public eye), as though he stood in the very face of death, and much expected to fall beneath his dart. Ah! it is trying to the soul to go into the deadly conflict thus; and that, not for himself, nor for his family, but for his country—self and family and all laid on the public altar. God bless the men who do it. The account of his funeral, with some biographical notice, is as follows:

"One of the most imposing services we ever witnessed took place last Sunday afternoon at the church of Rev. Dr. Adams, on Madison square. The occasion was the funeral of Brig. Gen. James C. Rice, who fell in the battle of Tuesday. He was an officer of high reputation in the army, and not one was more truly beloved by those whom he commanded, or more deeply mourned. In this city he was well known, having resided here many years. He was a member of Madison Square Church, and here, before the altar where he had professed his faith in Christ, and where he had been joined in marriage, was now laid his manly form, silent in death. The deep interest and general sorrow drew together an immense audience. Long before the hour, the church was filled to overflowing. At half-past three the remains encoffined, draped in the national flag and decorated with wreaths, bearing on it the hat and sword of the deceased, was borne in, escorted by several distinguished officers, among whom were Gen. Anderson, the hero of Fort Sumter, Maj. Gen. Dix and Brig. Gen. Hays. During its passage up the broad aisle, an appropriate requiem was performed by the organ and choir.

"When this solemn strain had died away. Rev. Dr. Prentiss began the service by reading the Scriptures; and never did those blessed words of consolation: 'I am the resurrection and the life;' 'Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the first fruits of them that slept;' and 'Oh! death, where is thy sting? Oh! grave, where is thy victory?' sound more appropriate than over the bier of one struck down in the power of his manhood, yet dying in a holy cause, full of Christian faith and hope.

"Dr. Adams then rose to pay the last tribute to his departed friend and brother. Looking down from the pulpit upon the coffin which contained all that remained of the noble dead, it was some moments before he could speak. He then began in words that we shall long remember:

"The scene before us needs no interpreter. It is solemn and sublime beyond all speech. Solemn and sublime, because we bend over the bier of a true, brave, Christian soldier, who died in the discharge of his duty, at head of his column, full of faith in his Redeemer and the cause of country. Six years since, in this very church, he who now lies here confessed Christ, and partook of the communion. Eighteen months since he stood before this altar and was married, going forth with only a sky of blue and gold; upon that identical spot he lies now, on his way to an honored grave. The circumstances of this occasion in themselves are eloquent. Self-sacrifice is eloquent; devotion to the cause of God and our country is eloquent; death is eloquent. Who would not rather be in that coffin, covered with the emblem of our nationality, a true patriot and a Christian, than be walking alive a supporter of this wicked rebellion against the best government the world ever saw; or than be dragging out a low, sordid, sensual and selfish existence."

"Dr. Adams then proceeded to give a sketch of the life of the deceased, a few points of which we give, as well as we can, from memory: He was a native of New England, being born at Worthington, Mass., where his mother still lives, at the age of eightyfour years. When he came to this city to enter on the profession of law, his mind was somewhat disposed to skepticism, but meeting with wise religious counsel and instruction, he soon embraced the truth, and entered with all the manly earnestness of his nature upon the duties of a Christian life. Asking at once for something to do, he was set to work in the mission school, in which he was a diligent laborer, so long as he remained in this city. At the first breaking out of the war he entered the army, impelled by a sense of duty. He did not wait for a commission, but enlisted as a private, and made his way up without any patronage or family influence, solely by the force of his own talents, his courage and prompt devotion to duty. It was at once seen that he was no ordinary man, and his promotion was rapid. It was his fortune to be in all the campaigns of the army of the Potomac. He fought in twenty battles, and was always foremost, seeking the post of danger, and inspiring his men by his own heroic example. But not only was he thus brave, he was always also a Christian soldier. He did not forget, amid the excitements and dangers of a military life, that he was a soldier under another Captain. His courage was inspired and animated by religion. The fear of God cast out all other fear. He was always active for the welfare of his men, visiting them in their tents, dissuading them from the vices of the camp, and bidding them, amid the perils of war, remember their homes, their families and their God. As a testimony to his example, Dr. Adams read from a letter to the 'Evening Post,' written but two or three weeks since by one of the editors, who, on a visit to the army, saw and admired this noble Christian soldier, the Havelock of our army. Owing to such a consistent life, he had great influence over his men. They became known, like the Ironsides of Cromwell, as a God-fearing regiment. They were ready to follow where he led the way. In the late battles, out of eighteen hundred men whom he commanded, he lost eight hundred before he met his own end.

"At last death, for which, like Hwelock, it had been the study of his life to be 'always prepared,' found him on the field. It was on the afternoon of Tuesday, May 10, his men drawn up in line, and while resting on their arms the mail arrived, bringing him a letter from his wife. He read it, and scarcely had he finished it before the order came to 'advance.' He placed himself at the head of his column and led his men to the charge; and thus, 'foremost fighting, fell.' As he was borne from the field he was met by Gen. Meade, who, seeing him, dismounted, came and spoke to him tenderly, as one whom he loved, lamenting his wound and hoping it might not prove serious. But the brave soldier, who felt the life blood rapidly flowing from his wound, and knew that his hour had come, answered calmly that he had tried to do his duty, and was ready to die for his country. The reply of his commander deserves to be remembered: 'Would that all had done it as faithfully, and were as well prepared.' The wound was mortal. A Minnie rifle ball had penetrated the thigh, and though the leg was at once amputated, the flow of blood was too great. He lived but two hours. As he grew unconscious, his young aid knelt by his side, and putting his lips to his ear, whispered his last prayer; and so he died.

"This simple narrative, given by his pastor with so many details, and with extracts from his letters showing his character, was listened to by this vast audience with the deepest interest. Many times the recital melted all to tears. The service continued for two hours, and at the close they lingered still longer, to avail themselves of the privilege given them, of looking for the last time upon the face of the heroic dead.

"So has fallen one of the manliest, the bravest, and the best, who have risen up to defend our country in this hour of peril.

"Shall we say that he died too soon? Too soon, indeed, for us; but for him, not a day nor an hour. He fell in the prime of manhood—only thirty-four years old; but he died in a righteous cause, with a pure conscience, at peace with God; leaving an example which will be to others a model and an inspiration. Long will the grateful hearts of his soldiers, of his comrades in arms, and of Christian brothers, as well as his own kindred, cherish his memory."

The military funeral of Gen. Rice took place at half past four p. m., May 16, after the services at the house. The body was borne to the capitol, preceded by the bearers, James Martin, Wm. Cassidy, Wm. Kidd, Wm. Baenes, Paul Cushman, E. C. Bachelder, Geoege B. Steele, Chas. Crafts, Isaac Edwards, Samuel Williams, Robert H. Waterman and Chas. H. Strong, where it remained until it was borne to the receiving vault. The military bearers were Generals Rathbone and Danforth, Cols. Ainsworth and Chamberlain, Lieut. Colonel Friedlander, and Major McKown.

The military pageant was imposing. It consisted of the Twenty-fifth Regiment, under command of Col. Church; Gov. Seymour and staff, in uniform; members of the common council; prominent citizens, and personal friends of the deceased. The procession moved up Washington avenue, and thence to the receiving vault, where a volley was fired over the grave, and an impressive address was delivered, closing with the following beautiful lines, written and pronounced by Rev. Dr. Palmer:

The following beautiful tribute is from J. G. Holland, Esq.:

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Debby Masterson

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