Excerpt

There was a young man in my squadron whom I shall call Frank Gillham. He was the son of a Wisconsin farmer, and had enlisted in the ranks as a patriotic duty. Frank was young and handsome, a fine horseman, and rode one of the handsomest horses in the squadron. He was just the person whom one would suppose sure to rise from the ranks and perform many a gallant feat during the war.

A few weeks ago the horse was reported sick. It had but a cold, and we thought that a few days would find it well again. But the cold grew worse and changed to pneumonia, a disease of the lungs fearfully prevalent here among both men and horses.