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Lexington Intelligencer, May 25, 1901
In Memoriam
It is a sad and grievous theme that employs my pen when I write of the death of "Little Charlie Wallace," as he was familiarly called. For more than fifty years, excepting only the time he was absent during the civil war, he has been our constant associate, having with that exception, lived in Lexington and its immediate vicinity since 1844.
Others will tell the usual particulars of parentage, and birth, and death, with their dates in due order, I prefer to write more particularly of the man as he was in character, and of this I must only speak in very small part.
He was short in statue and slight in build, but within his small body there was a great soul; not discovering itself in great achievements as they are commonly estimated, not in ambitious schemes, not in grandly expressed sentiments nor lofty pretensions, but in a steadfast, immovable, patient perseverance in the path of duty.
Ah! it is easy to do grand things when opportunity offers and the world is looking on and applauding. Under such a stimulus life itself becomes cheap, and is freely given; but it is the little things of life that try men most, the constant girding of the loins in a struggle that has no promise of an end, the standing with cheerful front toward a sea of difficulties whose innumerable waves keep rushing on with eternal continuance. To stand thus undaunted, unshaken and uncomplaining calls for more than the courage of the charging knight, or the adventurous hero seeking after fame.
And in this patient endurance and cheerful facing of every duty, Charlie Wallace lived his life. Not that his troubles or trails were greater than yours or mine or many others perhaps, but that whatever they were, he met them so patiently, so bravely, so cheerfully. To such a man there never comes defeat. Death itself is swallowed up in victory, and Charlie met death as he had met all other things that came in his way, without fear or shrinking with a brave and steadfast front. And in his abiding Christian faith he made this conqueror of us all his servant to hear him away to the better land. But it must not be supposed that because he was possessed of such patient courage in meeting the tedious trails of a struggling life, that he was lacking in those qualities which make a man a hero in the common opinion of men. For more than four years he was a soldier. He enlisted in the Confederate army in June, 1861, having been in the State Guard for over a month before that time, and served faithfully as a gun-sergeant in Hy Bledsoe's battery until its surrender sometime in July, 1865. In all of that time he missed but one battle (Lexington). At that time he was at Springfield waiting upon his brother who was sick nigh until death with camp fever. The record of the other battles is Carthage, Wilson Creek, Pea Ridge, Inka, Corinth, Port Hudson, Raymond, Jackson, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Resaca, Last Mountain, Kennesaw Mountain, Peace Tree Creek, the hundred days fight around Atlanta, where he was under fire every day for one hundred days, Jonesboro, Franklin, Nashville and the terrible retreat therefrom, any many other engagements too small to be called battles, but where shot and shell were just as destructive to those engaged. In all of these Charlie Wallace took no unimportant part and bore himself there just as bravely, and faithfully, and cheerfully, and conscientiously as he did about his civil and domestic duties here at home. There was none braver nor more true than he, none more reliable, always at his post, always ready, always hopeful and full of enthusiasm. "Little Griffith, of Tennessee" himself with all his heroic devotion did not outrank our "Little Charlie Wallace" of Missouri.
At last his name has been reached in the great roll call and he has gone to answer. The time of his old comrades is getting thinner and thinner as one by one they drop out here to answer there. Many have preceded him and the rest of us must soon follow. We mourn him now, we will join him soon; but when all are there I doubt if there will be found one whose record for fidelity to duty will show up better than that of "Little Charlie Wallace.
Lexington Intelligencer, May 25, 1901
In Memoriam
It is a sad and grievous theme that employs my pen when I write of the death of "Little Charlie Wallace," as he was familiarly called. For more than fifty years, excepting only the time he was absent during the civil war, he has been our constant associate, having with that exception, lived in Lexington and its immediate vicinity since 1844.
Others will tell the usual particulars of parentage, and birth, and death, with their dates in due order, I prefer to write more particularly of the man as he was in character, and of this I must only speak in very small part.
He was short in statue and slight in build, but within his small body there was a great soul; not discovering itself in great achievements as they are commonly estimated, not in ambitious schemes, not in grandly expressed sentiments nor lofty pretensions, but in a steadfast, immovable, patient perseverance in the path of duty.
Ah! it is easy to do grand things when opportunity offers and the world is looking on and applauding. Under such a stimulus life itself becomes cheap, and is freely given; but it is the little things of life that try men most, the constant girding of the loins in a struggle that has no promise of an end, the standing with cheerful front toward a sea of difficulties whose innumerable waves keep rushing on with eternal continuance. To stand thus undaunted, unshaken and uncomplaining calls for more than the courage of the charging knight, or the adventurous hero seeking after fame.
And in this patient endurance and cheerful facing of every duty, Charlie Wallace lived his life. Not that his troubles or trails were greater than yours or mine or many others perhaps, but that whatever they were, he met them so patiently, so bravely, so cheerfully. To such a man there never comes defeat. Death itself is swallowed up in victory, and Charlie met death as he had met all other things that came in his way, without fear or shrinking with a brave and steadfast front. And in his abiding Christian faith he made this conqueror of us all his servant to hear him away to the better land. But it must not be supposed that because he was possessed of such patient courage in meeting the tedious trails of a struggling life, that he was lacking in those qualities which make a man a hero in the common opinion of men. For more than four years he was a soldier. He enlisted in the Confederate army in June, 1861, having been in the State Guard for over a month before that time, and served faithfully as a gun-sergeant in Hy Bledsoe's battery until its surrender sometime in July, 1865. In all of that time he missed but one battle (Lexington). At that time he was at Springfield waiting upon his brother who was sick nigh until death with camp fever. The record of the other battles is Carthage, Wilson Creek, Pea Ridge, Inka, Corinth, Port Hudson, Raymond, Jackson, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Resaca, Last Mountain, Kennesaw Mountain, Peace Tree Creek, the hundred days fight around Atlanta, where he was under fire every day for one hundred days, Jonesboro, Franklin, Nashville and the terrible retreat therefrom, any many other engagements too small to be called battles, but where shot and shell were just as destructive to those engaged. In all of these Charlie Wallace took no unimportant part and bore himself there just as bravely, and faithfully, and cheerfully, and conscientiously as he did about his civil and domestic duties here at home. There was none braver nor more true than he, none more reliable, always at his post, always ready, always hopeful and full of enthusiasm. "Little Griffith, of Tennessee" himself with all his heroic devotion did not outrank our "Little Charlie Wallace" of Missouri.
At last his name has been reached in the great roll call and he has gone to answer. The time of his old comrades is getting thinner and thinner as one by one they drop out here to answer there. Many have preceded him and the rest of us must soon follow. We mourn him now, we will join him soon; but when all are there I doubt if there will be found one whose record for fidelity to duty will show up better than that of "Little Charlie Wallace.
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Lexington Intelligencer, May 25, 1901
In Memoriam
It is a sad and grievous theme that employs my pen when I write of the death of "Little Charlie Wallace," as he was familiarly called. For more than fifty years, excepting only the time he was absent during the civil war, he has been our constant associate, having with that exception, lived in Lexington and its immediate vicinity since 1844.
Others will tell the usual particulars of parentage, and birth, and death, with their dates in due order, I prefer to write more particularly of the man as he was in character, and of this I must only speak in very small part.
He was short in statue and slight in build, but within his small body there was a great soul; not discovering itself in great achievements as they are commonly estimated, not in ambitious schemes, not in grandly expressed sentiments nor lofty pretensions, but in a steadfast, immovable, patient perseverance in the path of duty.
Ah! it is easy to do grand things when opportunity offers and the world is looking on and applauding. Under such a stimulus life itself becomes cheap, and is freely given; but it is the little things of life that try men most, the constant girding of the loins in a struggle that has no promise of an end, the standing with cheerful front toward a sea of difficulties whose innumerable waves keep rushing on with eternal continuance. To stand thus undaunted, unshaken and uncomplaining calls for more than the courage of the charging knight, or the adventurous hero seeking after fame.
And in this patient endurance and cheerful facing of every duty, Charlie Wallace lived his life. Not that his troubles or trails were greater than yours or mine or many others perhaps, but that whatever they were, he met them so patiently, so bravely, so cheerfully. To such a man there never comes defeat. Death itself is swallowed up in victory, and Charlie met death as he had met all other things that came in his way, without fear or shrinking with a brave and steadfast front. And in his abiding Christian faith he made this conqueror of us all his servant to hear him away to the better land. But it must not be supposed that because he was possessed of such patient courage in meeting the tedious trails of a struggling life, that he was lacking in those qualities which make a man a hero in the common opinion of men. For more than four years he was a soldier. He enlisted in the Confederate army in June, 1861, having been in the State Guard for over a month before that time, and served faithfully as a gun-sergeant in Hy Bledsoe's battery until its surrender sometime in July, 1865. In all of that time he missed but one battle (Lexington). At that time he was at Springfield waiting upon his brother who was sick nigh until death with camp fever. The record of the other battles is Carthage, Wilson Creek, Pea Ridge, Inka, Corinth, Port Hudson, Raymond, Jackson, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Resaca, Last Mountain, Kennesaw Mountain, Peace Tree Creek, the hundred days fight around Atlanta, where he was under fire every day for one hundred days, Jonesboro, Franklin, Nashville and the terrible retreat therefrom, any many other engagements too small to be called battles, but where shot and shell were just as destructive to those engaged. In all of these Charlie Wallace took no unimportant part and bore himself there just as bravely, and faithfully, and cheerfully, and conscientiously as he did about his civil and domestic duties here at home. There was none braver nor more true than he, none more reliable, always at his post, always ready, always hopeful and full of enthusiasm. "Little Griffith, of Tennessee" himself with all his heroic devotion did not outrank our "Little Charlie Wallace" of Missouri.
At last his name has been reached in the great roll call and he has gone to answer. The time of his old comrades is getting thinner and thinner as one by one they drop out here to answer there. Many have preceded him and the rest of us must soon follow. We mourn him now, we will join him soon; but when all are there I doubt if there will be found one whose record for fidelity to duty will show up better than that of "Little Charlie Wallace.
Lexington Intelligencer, May 25, 1901
In Memoriam
It is a sad and grievous theme that employs my pen when I write of the death of "Little Charlie Wallace," as he was familiarly called. For more than fifty years, excepting only the time he was absent during the civil war, he has been our constant associate, having with that exception, lived in Lexington and its immediate vicinity since 1844.
Others will tell the usual particulars of parentage, and birth, and death, with their dates in due order, I prefer to write more particularly of the man as he was in character, and of this I must only speak in very small part.
He was short in statue and slight in build, but within his small body there was a great soul; not discovering itself in great achievements as they are commonly estimated, not in ambitious schemes, not in grandly expressed sentiments nor lofty pretensions, but in a steadfast, immovable, patient perseverance in the path of duty.
Ah! it is easy to do grand things when opportunity offers and the world is looking on and applauding. Under such a stimulus life itself becomes cheap, and is freely given; but it is the little things of life that try men most, the constant girding of the loins in a struggle that has no promise of an end, the standing with cheerful front toward a sea of difficulties whose innumerable waves keep rushing on with eternal continuance. To stand thus undaunted, unshaken and uncomplaining calls for more than the courage of the charging knight, or the adventurous hero seeking after fame.
And in this patient endurance and cheerful facing of every duty, Charlie Wallace lived his life. Not that his troubles or trails were greater than yours or mine or many others perhaps, but that whatever they were, he met them so patiently, so bravely, so cheerfully. To such a man there never comes defeat. Death itself is swallowed up in victory, and Charlie met death as he had met all other things that came in his way, without fear or shrinking with a brave and steadfast front. And in his abiding Christian faith he made this conqueror of us all his servant to hear him away to the better land. But it must not be supposed that because he was possessed of such patient courage in meeting the tedious trails of a struggling life, that he was lacking in those qualities which make a man a hero in the common opinion of men. For more than four years he was a soldier. He enlisted in the Confederate army in June, 1861, having been in the State Guard for over a month before that time, and served faithfully as a gun-sergeant in Hy Bledsoe's battery until its surrender sometime in July, 1865. In all of that time he missed but one battle (Lexington). At that time he was at Springfield waiting upon his brother who was sick nigh until death with camp fever. The record of the other battles is Carthage, Wilson Creek, Pea Ridge, Inka, Corinth, Port Hudson, Raymond, Jackson, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Resaca, Last Mountain, Kennesaw Mountain, Peace Tree Creek, the hundred days fight around Atlanta, where he was under fire every day for one hundred days, Jonesboro, Franklin, Nashville and the terrible retreat therefrom, any many other engagements too small to be called battles, but where shot and shell were just as destructive to those engaged. In all of these Charlie Wallace took no unimportant part and bore himself there just as bravely, and faithfully, and cheerfully, and conscientiously as he did about his civil and domestic duties here at home. There was none braver nor more true than he, none more reliable, always at his post, always ready, always hopeful and full of enthusiasm. "Little Griffith, of Tennessee" himself with all his heroic devotion did not outrank our "Little Charlie Wallace" of Missouri.
At last his name has been reached in the great roll call and he has gone to answer. The time of his old comrades is getting thinner and thinner as one by one they drop out here to answer there. Many have preceded him and the rest of us must soon follow. We mourn him now, we will join him soon; but when all are there I doubt if there will be found one whose record for fidelity to duty will show up better than that of "Little Charlie Wallace.
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