Harvard memorial biographies ...

George Weston.

201

During all his military career he was subject to the complaint
just mentioned, as well as to the most acute form of neuralgia
in the face, which often, for nights in succession, kept him without a half-hour's comfortable sleep. At such times he rarely
complained, but would keep as still as possible, and usually went
about his duty as in the ordinary course of things. During the
expedition to Goldsborough he suffered incessantly from neuralgia, often to the extent of great physical exhaustion, but
never, to my knowledge, fell out of his place in the ranks, his
pluck and determination more than supplying the place of mere
bodily strength. One who stood by him in the ranks used to
say of him at this time:"You ought to see how the crack of the guns wakes Weston up.
On mornings when everything is quiet he limps off with his face as
white as chalk from the pain of his neuralgia, and his teeth set tight
together, but the color mounts up in his face when the gunners once
get to work, and his head goes up like a war horse's."
Such were the qualities which 'he exhibited in the more trying part of his service. In the camp and on the field, when
well, or even in tolerably good health, his personal and social
qualities made him the life of the company and a universal
favorite. He had the true New England type of humor, quaint,
quick, and dry, full of surprises and hard to reproduce in
narration. " I recall, however, one characteristic speech of his.
His company, on returning to Newbern after their first expedition, found their camp without firewood, and were ordered off
to the forest, a mile distant, to bring in a supply on their
shoulders. Weston, who was still quite weak from his recent
sickness, set out for the barracks on the return of the party,
himself carrying but one very small stick. On their way back
they met Lieutenant T. of Company F, and Weston saw the
rebuke in the officer's eye as it lighted upon him, but prevented
the expression of it by saying, respectfully, while his eye
twinkled, "No, I don't mind the physical labor, Lieutenant
T., - it's the degradation that tries my soul."
To shine in the company of which George Weston was at
this time a member was in itself a sort of distinction; for
9*