, and such like,
and got right down to matters involved in our every-day life. He would
admonish us to be careful about our health, to avoid excesses of any
kind that might be injurious to us in that respect, and above all
things, to be faithful and brave soldiers, and conduct ourselves in
such a manner that our army record would be an honor to us, and a
source of pride and satisfaction to our parents and friends at home. In
camp or on the march, he was a most useful and industrious man. He
would visit the sick, write letters for them, and in general look after
their needs in countless ways. He wrote a fine, neat, legible hand, and
rendered much assistance to many of the line officers in making out the
muster and pay rolls of their respective companies, and in attending to
other matters connected with the company records, or official
correspondence. And when the regiment had fighting to do, or a prospect
of any, Chaplain Hamilton was always at the front. In the affair at
Salem Cemetery, Hez. Giberson of Co. G was knocked down and rendered
insensible for a short time by the near-by explosion of a shell.
Hamilton ran to him, picked him up, and taking him by the arm, marched
him to the rear, while shells were bursting all around us. I saw them
as they walked by,--Giberson white as a sheet, staggering, and
evidently deathly sick, but the chaplain clung to him, kept him on his
feet, and ultimately turned him over to the surgeon.

[Illustration: B. B. Hamilton
Chaplain 61st Illinois Infantry.]

The spring of 1865 found the regiment at Franklin, Tennessee. The war
was then practically over in that region, and any organized armies of
the Confederates were hundreds of miles away. Hamilton's health had
become greatly impaired, and in view of all those conditions, he
concluded to resign, and did so, on March 3rd, 1865, and thereupon
returned to his old home in Illinois. The vacancy caused by his
resignation was never filled, and thereafter we had no religious
services in the regiment except on two or three occasions, rendered by
volunteers, whose names I have forgotten. After leaving the army,
Chaplain Hamilton led a life of activity and usefulness until
incapacitated by his final illness. He died at Upper Alton, Illinois,
on November 11th, 1894, at the age of nearly seventy-three years,
respected and loved by all who knew him. He was a good, patriotic,
brave man. I never saw him but once after he left the army, b