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But it is permitted to state that of the two regiments to be raised in New York, the 69th and the 88th, the latter was "Meagher's Own" and the General selected for its officers the members of his own old Zouave company, of whose gallantry, chivalry, intelligence, and discretion he was personally cognizant. Time and death have sanctified and justified the choice.
Through all the battles his figure his figure was prominent and powerful, few will ever forget the evening of Malvern Hill. The gloom of the evening setting down upon the earth; the brow of the hill one sheet of flame, belched forth from the mouths of innumerable cannons; the air tremulous with the detonation of the musketry; the 88th advancing under the shower of bullets; at the center was Clooney, close to the colors, cheering on the men. From there to Antietam where he fell mortally wounded, space is waiting to record his devotion. ... The calm and unembellished recital of the events of his death is the best eulogy of the man; as it is the best index to his soldierly qualities. Struck in the knee, and severely wounded unto lameness, besought by everyone to go the rear and have it attended to, he peremptorily refused to go. He seizes the colors, when the color-bearer was shot down, and in this position, limping on one foot, his voice still ringing hopeful, resonant, he is struck by two bullets -- one in the head, another in the breast -- and falls down stiff and stark and cold, the lifeless hand holding with the grip of fate, the Green Banner which in life he loved so well.
Knowing all the excellencies of the man's life, knowing his bravery, his loving heart and nature, his gallantry and devotion to every good cause, it was right and proper that there should be a such a cortege as that of yesterday. It was right and proper -- albeit the day was raw and cold -- that the black-plumed hearses, the carriages, the civilians, the escort of wounded comrades, should crowd and throng the grandest thoroughfare of the Republic, to do you honor O! brave and loyal soldier.
The sad music, the solemn yet profound faces swept the heart of the passing strangers, and they stopped to ask whom the city honored today. After all, probably the truest and tenderest tribute to you were the liquid eyes of those who never knew you answering. "They are are going to bury this day, in Calvary, Captain Patrick Felan Clooney, a brave officer of the Irish Brigade, who was killed in battle."
... (To be continued.) GALLOWGLASS
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