and a soldier." His commission as Brigadier-General of Volunteers, "determined on days before," was signed on the 19th of October, too late for him to wear the honor he had earned so well.

The funeral of General Lowell took place on Friday, the 28th of October, at the College Chapel at Cambridge. It was fit that Harvard should pay the last honors to this son of hers, than whom none nobler ever left her lap. In an address, spoken in the presence of a dense assemblage, the Rev. George Putnam drew a vivid picture of the departed hero, and consecrated the occasion, with fine felicity, not to Lowell only, but also to those many dear friends of his to whom he had been as a leader, yet who before him had fallen and nearly all still rested where they fell. Then the relics of this high-minded, gallant, and gifted soldier were restored to the earth at Mount Auburn, with the honors befitting his military rank.

"Not on the vulgar mass

Called 'work' must sentence pass,

Things done, that took the eye and had the price;
O'er which, from level stand,

The low world laid its hand,

Found straightway to its mind, could value in a trice:

"Thoughts hardly to be packed

Into a narrow act,

Fancies that broke through language and escaped;

All I could never be,

All men ignored in me,

This I was worth to God, whose wheel the pitcher shaped."

JAMES SAVAGE.

Captain 2d Mass. Vols. (Infantry), May 24, 1861; Major, June 23, 1862; Lieutenant-Colonel, September 17, 1862; died at Charlottesville, Va., October 22, 1862, of wounds received at Cedar Mountain, August 9.

J'

AMES SAVAGE, JR., the subject of this memoir, was the only son of the Hon. James Savage of Boston, well known for his historical researches connected with the early settlers of New England, and of Elizabeth Otis (Stillman) Savage.

Major Thomas Savage, the founder of the family in America, came to this country in 1635, settled in Boston, and rendered valuable service to the Colony as commander of the Massachusetts forces in King Philip's war. His son inherited the martial instincts of the father, and was the "noble, heroic youth" spoken of by the old chronicler of that war, who holding the rank of Ensign in Captain Moseley's company, was twice wounded. These words might be aptly quoted to describe James Savage, Jr.

Born in Boston, April 21, 1832, he inherited a sensitive, earnest, and joyous nature, united with a physical constitution not equal to the enterprises which his adventurous spirit craved. His love of out-door play was inexhaustible; and the city streets among which his childhood was spent, while depriving him of the freedom of the country, gave him equal opportunity for adventure in a different way. A favorite enjoyment was to lead a band of playmates to some distant part of the city, by cross-routes known only to boys and cats, scaling sheds and walls, climbing the leads of houses, and dropping from eaves, at imminent risk of their necks. One of his comrades says: "We knew no barrier too high nor place too difficult to enter. We were not mischievous or ill-disposed. Neither man nor animal suffered from our games; but the delight of starting at Brattle Square and going to Boylston Street 'across lots,' never entering a public street except to cross it, can never be

T

known to those who have not, as I have, chased Jim Savage in coram and hie-spy. The boy who took to the street for security or success lost caste at once." The same companion says: “I have not seen Savage for years, but I remember him as yesterday, full of fun and courage, with his 'hockey' in hand, ready to plunge into any mêlée to get a blow at the ball. He was thin, and light in weight, and in a severe hustle would get pushed to the outside by mere want of weight, but he was sure to go in again and again. His side at football would win if he could make it, for in rush or race it took a good player to compete with him; and yet withal he was such a gentle and noble fellow that everybody loved him, and felt that he would never do a mean thing. He was one that never complained or made a fuss if the game was not arranged to suit him; all he wanted was fair play."

In those days, twenty years ago, Boston boys were often called into sterner encounters; there were frequently severe battles between the sons of more wealthy parents and the Irish boys. Beside these contests there were long-standing feuds between Northenders and Southenders, between Boston and Roxbury boys. Temple Place, James's home, was nearly middle ground, and those who lived in that neighborhood were ever in danger of a blow. James Savage never engaged in a quarrel if he could avoid it, but when one was forced upon him he never thought of dodging. If a friend was in trouble, or an insult offered to those who could not defend themselves, James was ready to strike; and when he did strike, it was with all his might. Many of his companions have said, in later days, that he was unconquerable as long as his strength lasted. Careless of pain, his only thought was to reduce his opponent to submission.

But the boy's life was not all play; for, though not distinguished as a scholar, he was exceedingly fond of reading, particularly those books of history which treat of the wars of Greece and Rome and the Middle Ages. He never wearied of the feats of knight-errantry, and read and re-read Irving's Conquest of Granada until he had it by heart. In the winter

evenings, when a very little boy, he would sit at the table and fight the battles of the Moors and Spaniards, using spools to represent the contending knights and squadrons. Of the early display of this martial spirit and other manifestations of character a picture is given in the following letter from his teacher, Mr. George Fowle, whose kindly sympathy James ever remembered with gratitude.

"You could not have made me a more pleasing gift than that of the likeness of our loved and loving James. . . . . He was always prompt and ready for all our school doings, whether of frolic or labor, picnic or exhibition. He showed his military turn at an early age. At one time when English history had warmed up the boys into a military ardor, they divided themselves into Saxons and Normans, and James was chosen commander of the latter. Our old Scotch carpenter, whom you may remember, Mr. Troup, was called upon to furnish us with wooden swords and shields, and I was laboriously engaged in making devices and mottoes to be placed upon the shields. I had the shield of James in my possession till I lost it on my.removal to my present rooms. device was a bull in wild career and the motto,

'When I wave my sword on high,

See the Saxon porkers fly.'

The

We had been reading 'Ivanhoe' at the time, as illustrative of the reign of Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and James hit upon Front-de-Bœuf as his pattern."

His relish for the heroic made him delight in the poetry which recounts the deeds of valor in stirring verse; and he seemed never weary, even when he became a man, of reading Macaulay's Lays, Aytoun's Border Minstrelsy, and Scott's Poems. On the eve of actual battle, James was heard quoting from "Henry of Navarre." Being so full of romantic feeling, it was to be expected that he would have a vivid perception of beauty, and so, indeed, he had; it was to him the manifestation of God in the world. He had a fine ear, and his musical taste was apparent when so small that he had to climb upon the music-stool before the piano, and twine his legs around its stem to keep from falling off. Thus perched, he would study out simple tunes, and then practise them until

they were perfectly familiar. As he grew older, his pleasure in this art increased, and led him to an excellence rarely attained by amateurs, especially in the delicacy of touch and feeling with which he played. Possessed of a good voice and ear, he sang with ease; and when he had no instrument at hand, he found in song an expression for his feelings, whether sad or joyous, often helping others to beguile a weary hour in city and camp by singing.

Added to his love of music was a love of nature, which he seemed to have inherited from his mother, who, through her life, was keenly alive to all that reminded her of the fields and flowers, the forests and mountains, of her native State.

We have seen in him the adventurous boy, the eager playmate; yet there was a side to his character in singular contrast to this, and not less conspicuous to the ordinary observer. He was extremely shy and diffident, although free from the false pride which, centring in self-esteem, renders so many unable to do their best from dread of failure and ridicule. At school he was a fair scholar, doing his duty and getting his lessons without needing either bridle or spur, and yet, when suddenly called upon to show what he knew, he would hesitate and forget, and be often unable to say a word. In after years this diffidence did not altogether leave him, but was a cause of disappointment to him on many occasions.

It would seem that this boy, living so much in the open air, would have been rugged and sturdy, with a constitution capable of defying all ordinary ills. But the kindly influences of air and exercise were not sufficient to secure his perfect health, and in his thirteenth year he was sent to school in Lunenburg, Worcester County, that he might have the benefit of pure country air and simple food. In spite of this, however, he ultimately became a sufferer from dyspepsia, which not only prostrated his body, but reacted on his mind, causing frequent despondency, and making it more difficult to conquer the diffidence so natural to him.

In the summer of 1849 he entered Harvard University, having finished his preparation at the Boston Latin School;