A New York Soldier.
— This afternoon, July 22, I have spent a long time with Oscar F.
Wilber, Company G, One Hundred and Fifty-fourth New York, low with chronic diarrhœa, and a
bad wound also. He ask'd me to read to him a chapter in the New Testament. I complied, and
ask'd him what I should read. He said: "Make your own choice." I open'd at the close of one of
the first books of the Evangelists, and read the chapters describing the latter hours of Christ, and
the scenes at the crucifixion. The poor, wasted young man ask'd me to read the following chapter
also, how Christ rose again. I read very slowly, for Oscar was feeble. It pleas'd him very much,
yet
the tears were in his eyes. He ask'd me if I enjoy'd religion. I said: "Perhaps not, my dear, in the
way you mean, and yet, may-be, it is the same thing." He said: "It is my chief reliance." He talk'd
of death, and said he did not fear it. I said: "Why, Oscar, don't you think you will get well?" He
said: "I may, but it is not probable." He spoke calmly of his condition. The wound was very bad;
discharg'd much. Then the diarrhœa had prostrated him, and I felt that he was even then the same
as dying. He behaved very manly and affectionate. The kiss I gave him as I was about leaving he
return'd fourfold. He gave me his mother's address, Mrs. Sally D. Wilber, Alleghany Post-office,
Cattaraugus County, N. Y. I had several such interviews with him. He died a few days after the
one just described.