goes through the horrors of battle, and dies a SAINT. 

Truly we have here matter sensational enough for the most exacting
novelist; but we disclaim all effort to play upon the passions, or
add another work of fiction to the mass of irreligious trash so powerful
in the employ of the evil one for the seduction of youth.  In the
varied scenes of life there are many actions influenced by secret
motives known only to the heart that harbors them.  Not all are
dishonorable.  It takes a great deal of guilt to make a person as black
as he is painted by his enemies.  Many a brave heart has, under the
garb of an impropriety, accomplished heroic acts of self-denial. 

History is teeming with instances where the love of creatures, and even
the holier and more sublime love of the Creator, have, in moments of
enthusiasm, induced tender females to forget the weakness of their
sex and successfully fulfil the spheres of manhood.  These scenes, so
censurable, are extraordinary more from the rarity of their occurence
than from the motives that inspire them, and thus our tale draws much
of its thrilling interest from the unique character of its details.