Being fond of the night side of nature, I was soon promoted tothe post of night nurse, with every facility for indulging in myfavorite pastime of "owling." My colleague, a black-eyed widow,relieved me at dawn, we two taking care of the ward, between us,like the immortal Sairy and Betsey, "turn and turn about." Iusually found my boys in the jolliest state of mind theircondition allowed; for it was a known fact that Nurse Periwinkleobjected to blue devils, and entertained a belief that he wholaughed most was surest of recovery. At the beginning of myreign, dumps and dismals prevailed; the nurses looked anxious andtired, the men gloomy or sad; and a general "Hark!-from-the-tombs-a-doleful-sound" style of conversation seemed to be thefashion: a state of things which caused one coming from a merry,social New England town, to feel as if she had got into anexhausted receiver; and the instinct of self-preservation, to saynothing of a philanthropic desire to serve the race, caused aspeedy change in Ward No. 1.

More flattering than the most gracefully turned compliment, moregrateful than the most admiring glance, was the sight of thoserows of faces, all strange to me a little while ago, now lightingup, with smiles of welcome, as I came among them, enjoying thatmoment heartily, with a womanly pride in their regard, a motherlyaffection for them all. The evenings were spent in reading aloud,writing letters, waiting on and amusing the men, going the roundswith Dr. P., as he made his second daily survey, dressing mydozen wounds afresh, giving last doses, and making them cozy forthe long hours to come, till the nine o'clock bell rang, the gaswas turned down, the day nurses went off duty, the night watchcame on, and my nocturnal adventure began.

My ward was now divided into three rooms; and, under favor of thematron, I had managed to sort out the patients in such a way thatI had what I called, "my duty room," my "pleasure room," and my"pathetic room," and worked for each in a different way. One, Ivisited, armed with a dressing tray, full of rollers, plasters,and pins; another, with books, flowers, games, and gossip; athird, with teapots, lullabies, consolation, and sometimes, ashroud.

Wherever the sickest or most helpless man chanced to be, there Iheld my watch, often visiting the other rooms, to see that thegeneral watchman of the ward did his duty by the fires and thewounds, the latter needing constant wetting. Not only on thisaccount did I meander, but also to get fresher air than the closerooms afforded; for, owing to the stupidity of that mysterious"somebody" who does all the damage in the world, the windows hadbeen carefully nailed down above, and the lower sashes could onlybe raised in the mildest weather, for the men lay just below. Ihad suggested a summary smashing of a few panes here and there,when frequent appeals to headquarters had proved unavailing, anddaily orders to lazy attendants had come to nothing. No oneseconded the motion, however, and the nails were far beyond myreach; for, though belonging to the sisterhood of "ministeringangels," I had no wings, and might as well have asked for Jacob'sladder, as a pair of steps, in that charitable chaos.

One of the harmless ghosts who bore me company during the hauntedhours, was Dan, the watchman, whom I regarded with a certain awe;for, though so much together, I never fairly saw his face, and,but for his legs, should never have recognized him, as we seldommet by day. These legs were remarkable, as was his whole figure,for his body was short, rotund, and done up in a big jacket, andmuffler; his beard hid the lower part of his face, his hat-brimthe upper; and all I ever discovered was a pair of sleepy eyes,and a very mild voice. But the legs! - very long, very thin, verycrooked and feeble, looking like grey sausages in their tightcoverings, without a ray of pegtopishness about them, andfinished off with a pair of expansive, green cloth shoes, verylike Chinese junks, with the sails down. This figure, glidingnoiselessly about the dimly lighted rooms, was stronglysuggestive of the spirit of a beer barrel mounted on cork-screws,haunting the old hotel in search of its lost mates, emptied andstaved in long ago.

Another goblin who frequently appeared to me, was the attendantof the pathetic room, who, being a faithful soul, was often up totend two or three men, weak and wandering as babies, after thefever had gone. The amiable creature beguiled the watches of thenight by brewing jorums of a fearful beverage, which he calledcoffee, and insisted on sharing with me; coming in with a greatbowl of something like mud soup, scalding hot, guiltless ofcream, rich in an all-pervading flavor of molasses, scorch andtin pot. Such an amount of good will and neighborly kindness alsowent into the mess, that I never could find the heart to refuse,but always received it with thanks, sipped it with hypocriticalrelish while he remained, and whipped it into the slop-jar theinstant he departed, thereby gratifying him, securing one rousinglaugh in the doziest hour of the night, and no one was the worsefor the transaction but the pigs. Whether they were "cut offuntimely in their sins," or not, I carefully abstained frominquiring.

It was a strange life - asleep half the day, exploring Washingtonthe other half, and all night hovering, like a massive cherubim,in a red rigolette, over the slumbering sons of man. I liked it,and found many things to amuse, instruct, and interest me. Thesnores alone were quite a study, varying from the mild sniff tothe stentorian snort, which startled the echoes and hoisted theperformer erect to accuse his neighbor of the deed, magnanimouslyforgive him, and wrapping the drapery of his couch about him, liedown to vocal slumber. After listening for a week to this band ofwind instruments, I indulged in the belief that I could recognizeeach by the snore alone, and was tempted to join the chorus bybreaking out with John Brown's favorite hymn:

"Blow ye the trumpet, blow!"

I would have given much to have possessed the art of sketching,for many of the faces became wonderfully interesting whenunconscious. Some grew stern and grim, the men evidently dreamingof war, as they gave orders, groaned over their wounds, or damnedthe rebels vigorously; some grew sad and infinitely pathetic, asif the pain borne silently all day, revenged itself by nowbetraying what the man's pride had concealed so well. Often theroughest grew young and pleasant when sleep smoothed the hardlines away, letting the real nature assert itself; many almostseemed to speak, and I learned to know these men better by nightthan through any intercourse by day. Sometimes they disappointedme, for faces that looked merry and good in the light, grew badand sly when the shadows came; and though they made noconfidences in words, I read their lives, leaving them to wonderat the change of manner this midnight magic wrought in theirnurse. A few talked busily; one drummer boy sang sweetly, thoughno persuasions could win a note from him by day; and severaldepended on being told what they had talked of in the morning.Even my constitutionals in the chilly halls, possessed a certaincharm, for the house was never still. Sentinels tramped round itall night long, their muskets glittering in the wintry moonlightas they walked, or stood before the doors, straight and silent,as figures of stone, causing one to conjure up romantic visionsof guarded forts, sudden surprises, and daring deeds; for inthese war times the hum drum life of Yankeedom had vanished, andthe most prosaic feel some thrill of that excitement which stirsthe nation's heart, and makes its capital a camp of hospitals.Wandering up and down these lower halls, I often heard cries fromabove, steps hurrying to and fro, saw surgeons passing up, or mencoming down carrying a stretcher, where lay a long whitefigure, whose face was shrouded and whose fight was done.Sometimes I stopped to watch the passers in the street, themoonlight shining on the spire opposite, or the gleam of somevessel floating, like a white-winged sea-gull, down the broadPotomac, whose fullest flow can never wash away the red stain ofthe land.

The night whose events I have a fancy to record, opened with alittle comedy, and closed with a great tragedy; for a virtuousand useful life untimely ended is always tragical to those whosee not as God sees. My headquarters were beside the bed of a NewJersey boy, crazed by the horrors of that dreadful Saturday. Aslight wound in the knee brought him there; but his mind hadsuffered more than his body; some string of that delicate machinewas over strained, and, for days, he had been reliving inimagination, the scenes he could not forget, till his distressbroke out in incoherent ravings, pitiful to hear. As I sat byhim, endeavoring to soothe his poor distracted brain by theconstant touch of wet hands over his hot forehead, he laycheering his comrades on, hurrying them back, then counting themas they fell around him, often clutching my arm, to drag me fromthe vicinity of a bursting shell, or covering up his head toscreen himself from a shower of shot; his face brilliant withfever; his eyes restless; his head never still; every musclestrained and rigid; while an incessant stream of defiant shouts,whispered warnings, and broken laments, poured from his lips withthat forceful bewilderment which makes such wanderings so hard tooverhear.

It was past eleven, and my patient was slowly wearying himselfinto fitful intervals of quietude, when, in one of these pauses,a curious sound arrested my attention. Looking over my shoulder,I saw a one-legged phantom hopping nimbly down the room; and,going to meet it, recognized a certain Pennsylvania gentleman,whose wound-fever had taken a turn for the worse, and, deprivinghim of the few wits a drunken campaign had left him, set himliterally tripping on the light, fantastic toe "toward home," ashe blandly informed me, touching the military cap which formed astriking contrast to the severe simplicity of the rest of hisdecidedly undress uniform. When sane, the least movement produceda roar of pain or a volley of oaths; but the departure of reasonseemed to have wrought an agreeable change, both in the man andhis manners; for, balancing himself on one leg, like a meditativestork, he plunged into an animated discussion of the war, thePresident, lager beer, and Enfield rifles, regardless of anysuggestions of mine as to the propriety of returning to bed, lesthe be court-martialed for desertion.

Anything more supremely ridiculous can hardly be imagined thanthis figure, scantily draped in white, its one foot covered witha big blue sock, a dingy cap set rakingly askew on its shavenhead, and placid satisfaction beaming in its broad red face, asit flourished a mug in one hand, an old boot in the other,calling them canteen and knapsack, while it skipped and flutteredin the most unearthly fashion. What to do with the creature Ididn't know; Dan was absent, and if I went to find him, theperambulator might festoon himself out of the window, set histoga on fire, or do some of his neighbors a mischief. Theattendant of the room was sleeping like a near relative of thecelebrated Seven, and nothing short of pins would rouse him; forhe had been out that day, and whiskey asserted its supremacy inbalmy whiffs. Still declaiming, in a fine flow of eloquence, thedemented gentleman hopped on, blind and deaf to my graspings andentreaties; and I was about to slam the door in his face, and runfor help, when a second and saner phantom, "all in white," cameto the rescue, in the likeness of a big Prussian, who spoke noEnglish, but divined the crisis, and put an end to it, bybundling the lively monoped into his bed, like a baby, with anauthoritative command to "stay put," which received added weightfrom being delivered in an odd conglomeration of French andGerman, accompanied by warning wags of a head decorated with ayellow cotton night cap, rendered most imposing by a tassel likea bell-pull. Rather exhausted by his excursion, the member fromPennsylvania subsided; and, after an irrepressible laughtogether, my Prussian ally and myself were returning to ourplaces, when the echo of a sob caused us to glance along thebeds. It came from one in the corner - such a little bed! - and sucha tearful little face looked up at us, as we stopped beside it!The twelve years old drummer boy was not singing now, butsobbing, with a manly effort all the while to stifle thedistressful sounds that would break out.

"What is it, Teddy?" I asked, as he rubbed the tears away, andchecked himself in the middle of a great sob to answerplaintively:

"I've got a chill, ma'am, but I ain't cryin' for that, 'cause I'mused to it. I dreamed Kit was here, and when I waked up hewasn't, and I couldn't help it, then."

The boy came in with the rest, and the man who was taken deadfrom the ambulance was the Kit he mourned. Well he might; for,when the wounded were brought from Fredericksburg, the child layin one of the camps thereabout, and this good friend, thoughsorely hurt himself, would not leave him to the exposure andneglect of such a time and place; but, wrapping him in his ownblanket, carried him in his arms to the transport, tended himduring the passage, and only yielded up his charge when Death methim at the door of the hospital which promised care and comfortfor the boy. For ten days, Teddy had shivered or burned withfever and ague, pining the while for Kit, and refusing to becomforted, because he had not been able to thank him for thegenerous protection, which, perhaps, had cost the giver's life.The vivid dream had wrung the childish heart with a fresh pang,and when I tried the solace fitted for his years, the remorsefulfear that haunted him found vent in a fresh burst of tears, as helooked at the wasted hands I was endeavoring to warm:

"Oh! if I'd only been as thin when Kit carried me as I am now,maybe he wouldn't have died; but I was heavy, he was hurt worserthan we knew, and so it killed him; and I didn't see him, to saygood bye."

This thought had troubled him in secret; and my assurances thathis friend would probably have died at all events, hardlyassuaged the bitterness of his regretful grief.

At this juncture, the delirious man began to shout; the one-legged rose up in his bed, as if preparing for another dart,Teddy bewailed himself more piteously than before: and if ever awoman was at her wit's end, that distracted female was NursePeriwinkle, during the space of two or three minutes, as shevibrated between the three beds, like an agitated pendulum. Likea most opportune reinforcement, Dan, the bandy, appeared, anddevoted himself to the lively party, leaving me free to return tomy post; for the Prussian, with a nod and a smile, took the ladaway to his own bed, and lulled him to sleep with a soothingmurmur, like a mammoth humble bee. I liked that in Fritz, and ifhe ever wondered afterward at the dainties which sometimes foundtheir way into his rations, or the extra comforts of his bed, hemight have found a solution of the mystery in sundry persons'knowledge of the fatherly action of that night.

Hardly was I settled again, when the inevitable bowl appeared,and its bearer delivered a message I had expected, yet dreaded toreceive:

"John is going, ma'am, and wants to see you, if you can come."

"The moment this boy is asleep; tell him so, and let me know if Iam in danger of being too late."

My Ganymede departed, and while I quieted poor Shaw, I thought ofJohn. He came in a day or two after the others; and, one evening,when I entered my "pathetic room," I found a lately emptied bedoccupied by a large, fair man, with a fine face, and the serenesteyes I ever met. One of the earlier comers had often spoken of afriend, who had remained behind, that those apparently worsewounded than himself might reach a shelter first. It seemed aDavid and Jonathan sort of friendship. The man fretted for hismate, and was never tired of praising John - his courage, sobriety,self-denial, and unfailing kindliness of heart; always winding upwith: "He's an out an' out fine feller, ma'am; you see if heaint."

I had some curiosity to behold this piece of excellence, and whenhe came, watched him for a night or two, before I made friendswith him; for, to tell the truth, I was a little afraid of thestately looking man, whose bed had to be lengthened toaccommodate his commanding stature; who seldom spoke, uttered nocomplaint, asked no sympathy, but tranquilly observed what wenton about him; and, as he lay high upon his pillows, no picture ofdying stateman or warrior was ever fuller of real dignity thanthis Virginia blacksmith. A most attractive face he had, framedin brown hair and beard, comely featured and full of vigor, asyet unsubdued by pain; thoughtful and often beautifully mildwhile watching the afflictions of others, as if entirelyforgetful of his own. His mouth was grave and firm, with plenty ofwill and courage in its lines, but a smile could make it as sweetas any woman's; and his eyes were child's eyes, looking onefairly in the face, with a clear, straightforward glance, whichpromised well for such as placed their faith in him. He seemed tocling to life, as if it were rich in duties and delights, and hehad learned the secret of content. The only time I saw hiscomposure disturbed, was when my surgeon brought another toexamine John, who scrutinized their faces with an anxious look,asking of the elder: "Do you think I shall pull through, sir?" "Ihope so, my man." And, as the two passed on, John's eye stillfollowed them, with an intentness which would have won a cleareranswer from them, had they seen it. A momentary shadow flittedover his face; then came the usual serenity, as if, in that briefeclipse, he had acknowledged the existence of some hardpossibility, and, asking nothing yet hoping all things, left theissue in God's hands, with that submission which is true piety.

The next night, as I went my rounds with Dr. P., I happened toask which man in the room probably suffered most; and, to mygreat surprise, he glanced at John:

"Every breath he draws is like a stab; for the ball pierced theleft lung, broke a rib, and did no end of damage here and there;so the poor lad can find neither forgetfulness nor ease, becausehe must lie on his wounded back or suffocate. It will be a hardstruggle, and a long one, for he possesses great vitality; buteven his temperate life can't save him; I wish it could."

"You don't mean he must die, Doctor?"

"Bless you there's not the slightest hope for him; and you'dbetter tell him so before long; women have a way of doing suchthings comfortably, so I leave it to you. He won't last more thana day or two, at furthest."

I could have sat down on the spot and cried heartily, if I hadnot learned the wisdom of bottling up one's tears for leisuremoments. Such an end seemed very hard for such a man, when half adozen worn out, worthless bodies round him, were gathering up theremnants of wasted lives, to linger on for years perhaps, burdensto others, daily reproaches to themselves. The army needed menlike John, earnest, brave, and faithful; fighting for liberty andjustice with both heart and hand, true soldiers of the Lord. Icould not give him up so soon, or think with any patience of soexcellent a nature robbed of its fulfillment, and blundered intoeternity by the rashness or stupidity of those at whose hands somany lives may be required. It was an easy thing for Dr. P. tosay: "Tell him he must die," but a cruelly hard thing to do, andby no means as "comfortable" as he politely suggested. I had notthe heart to do it then, and privately indulged the hope thatsome change for the better might take place, in spite of gloomyprophesies; so, rendering my task unnecessary. A few minuteslater, as I came in again, with fresh rollers, I saw John sittingerect, with no one to support him, while the surgeon dressed hisback. I had never hitherto seen it done; for, having simplerwounds to attend to, and knowing the fidelity of the attendant, Ihad left John to him, thinking it might be more agreeable andsafe; for both strength and experience were needed in his case. Ihad forgotten that the strong man might long for the gentletendance of a woman's hands, the sympathetic magnetism of awoman's presence, as well as the feebler souls about him. TheDoctor's words caused me to reproach myself with neglect, not ofany real duty perhaps, but of those little cares and kindnessesthat solace homesick spirits, and make the heavy hours passeasier. John looked lonely and forsaken just then, as he sat withbent head, hands folded on his knee, and no outward sign ofsuffering, till, looking nearer, I saw great tears roll down anddrop upon the floor. It was a new sight there; for, though I hadseen many suffer, some swore, some groaned, most enduredsilently, but none wept. Yet it did not seem weak, only verytouching, and straightway my fear vanished, my heart opened wideand took him in, as, gathering the bent head in my arms, asfreely as if he had been a little child, I said, "Let me help youbear it, John."

Never, on any human countenance, have I seen so swift andbeautiful a look of gratitude, surprise and comfort, as thatwhich answered me more eloquently than the whispered -

"Thank you, ma'am, this is right good! this is what I wanted!"

"Then why not ask for it before?"

"I didn't like to be a trouble; you seemed so busy, and I couldmanage to get on alone."

"You shall not want it any more, John."

Nor did he; for now I understood the wistful look that sometimesfollowed me, as I went out, after a brief pause beside his bed,or merely a passing nod, while busied with those who seemed toneed me more than he, because more urgent in their demands; now Iknew that to him, as to so many, I was the poor substitute formother, wife, or sister, and in his eyes no stranger, but afriend who hitherto had seemed neglectful; for, in his modesty,he had never guessed the truth. This was changed now; and,through the tedious operation of probing, bathing, and dressinghis wounds, he leaned against me, holding my hand fast, and, ifpain wrung further tears from him, no one saw them fall but me.When he was laid down again, I hovered about him, in a remorsefulstate of mind that would not let me rest, till I had bathed hisface, brushed his "bonny brown hair," set all things smooth abouthim, and laid a knot of heath and heliotrope on his clean pillow.While doing this, he watched me with the satisfied expression Iso liked to see; and when I offered the little nosegay, held itcarefully in his great hand, smoothed a ruffled leaf or two,surveyed and smelt it with an air of genuine delight, and laycontentedly regarding the glimmer of the sunshine on the green.Although the manliest man among my forty, he said, "Yes, ma'am,"like a little boy; received suggestions for his comfort with thequick smile that brightened his whole face; and now and then, asI stood tidying the table by his bed, I felt him softly touch mygown, as if to assure himself that I was there. Anything morenatural and frank I never saw, and found this brave John asbashful as brave, yet full of excellencies and fine aspirations,which, having no power to express themselves in words, seemed tohave bloomed into his character and made him what he was.

After that night, an hour of each evening that remained to himwas devoted to his ease or pleasure. He could not talk much, forbreath was precious, and he spoke in whispers; but fromoccasional conversations, I gleaned scraps of private historywhich only added to the affection and respect I felt for him.Once he asked me to write a letter, and as I settled pen andpaper, I said, with an irrepressible glimmer of femininecuriosity, "Shall it be addressed to wife, or mother, John?"

"Neither, ma'am; I've got no wife, and will write to mothermyself when I get better. Did you think I was married because ofthis?" he asked, touching a plain ring he wore, and often turnedthoughtfully on his finger when he lay alone.

"Partly that, but more from a settled sort of look you have; alook which young men seldom get until they marry."

"I didn't know that; but I'm not so very young, ma'am, thirty inMay, and have been what you might call settled this ten years;for mother's a widow, I'm the oldest child she has, and itwouldn't do for me to marry until Lizzy has a home of her own,and Laurie's learned his trade; for we're not rich, and I must befather to the children and husband to the dear old woman, if Ican."

"No doubt but you are both, John; yet how came you to go to war,if you felt so? Wasn't enlisting as bad as marrying?"

"No, ma'am, not as I see it, for one is helping my neighbor, theother pleasing myself. I went because I couldn't help it. Ididn't want the glory or the pay; I wanted the right thing done,and people kept saying the men who were in earnest ought tofight. I was in earnest, the Lord knows! but I held off as longas I could, not knowing which was my duty; mother saw the case,gave me her ring to keep me steady, and said 'Go:' so I went."

A short story and a simple one, but the man and the mother wereportrayed better than pages of fine writing could have done it.

"Do you ever regret that you came, when you lie here suffering somuch?"

"Never, ma'am; I haven't helped a great deal, but I've shown Iwas willing to give my life, and perhaps I've got to; but I don'tblame anybody, and if it was to do over again, I'd do it. I'm alittle sorry I wasn't wounded in front; it looks cowardly to behit in the back, but I obeyed orders, and it don't matter in theend, I know."

Poor John! it did not matter now, except that a shot in the frontmight have spared the long agony in store for him. He seemed toread the thought that troubled me, as he spoke so hopefully whenthere was no hope, for he suddenly added:

"This is my first battle; do they think it's going to be mylast?"

"I'm afraid they do, John."

It was the hardest question I had ever been called upon toanswer; doubly hard with those clear eyes fixed on mine, forcinga truthful answer by their own truth. He seemed a little startledat first, pondered over the fateful fact a moment, then shook hishead, with a glance at the broad chest and muscular limbsstretched out before him:

"I'm not afraid, but it's difficult to believe all at once. I'mso strong it don't seem possible for such a little wound to killme."

Merry Mercutio's dying words glanced through my memory as hespoke: "'Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door,but 'tis enough." And John would have said the same could he haveseen the ominous black holes between his shoulders; he never had;and, seeing the ghastly sights about him, could not believe hisown wound more fatal than these, for all the suffering it causedhim.

"Shall I write to your mother, now?" I asked, thinking that thesesudden tidings might change all plans and purposes; but they didnot; for the man received the order of the Divine Commander tomarch with the same unquestioning obedience with which thesoldier had received that of the human one; doubtless rememberingthat the first led him to life, and the last to death.

"No, ma'am; to Laurie just the same; he'll break it to her best,and I'll add a line to her myself when you get done."

So I wrote the letter which he dictated, finding it better thanany I had sent; for, though here and there a little ungrammaticalor inelegant, each sentence came to me briefly worded, but mostexpressive; full of excellent counsel to the boy, tenderlybequeathing "mother and Lizzie" to his care, and bidding him goodbye in words the sadder for their simplicity. He added a fewlines, with steady hand, and, as I sealed it, said, with apatient sort of sigh, "I hope the answer will come in time for meto see it;" then, turning away his face, laid the flowers againsthis lips, as if to hide some quiver of emotion at the thought ofsuch a sudden sundering of all the dear home ties.

These things had happened two days before; now John was dying,and the letter had not come. I had been summoned to many deathbeds in my life, but to none that made my heart ache as it didthen, since my mother called me to watch the departure of aspirit akin to this in its gentleness and patient strength. As Iwent in, John stretched out both hands:

"I know you'd come! I guess I'm moving on, ma'am."

He was; and so rapidly that, even while he spoke, over his face Isaw the grey veil falling that no human hand can lift. I sat downby him, wiped the drops from his forehead, stirred the air abouthim with the slow wave of a fan, and waited to help him die. Hestood in sore need of help - and I could do so little; for, as thedoctor had foretold, the strong body rebelled against death, andfought every inch of the way, forcing him to draw each breathwith a spasm, and clench his hands with an imploring look, as ifhe asked, "How long must I endure this, and be still!" For hourshe suffered dumbly, without a moment's respire, or a moment'smurmuring; his limbs grew cold, his face damp, his lips white,and, again and again, he tore the covering off his breast, as ifthe lightest weight added to his agony; yet through it all, hiseyes never lost their perfect serenity, and the man's soul seemedto sit therein, undaunted by the ills that vexed his flesh.

One by one, the men woke, and round the room appeared a circle ofpale faces and watchful eyes, full of awe and pity; for, though astranger, John was beloved by all. Each man there had wondered athis patience, respected his piety, admired his fortitude, and nowlamented his hard death; for the influence of an upright naturehad made itself deeply felt, even in one little week. Presently,the Jonathan who so loved this comely David, came creeping fromhis bed for a last look and word. The kind soul was full oftrouble, as the choke in his voice, the grasp of his hand,betrayed; but there were no tears, and the farewell of thefriends was the more touching for its brevity.

"Old boy, how are you?" faltered the one.

"Most through, thank heaven!" whispered the other.

"Can I say or do anything for you anywheres?"

"Take my things home, and tell them that I did my best."

"I will! I will!"

"Good bye, Ned."

"Good bye, John, good bye!"

They kissed each other, tenderly as women, and so parted, forpoor Ned could not stay to see his comrade die. For a littlewhile, there was no sound in the room but the drip of water, froma stump or two, and John's distressful gasps, as he slowlybreathed his life away. I thought him nearly gone, and had justlaid down the fan, believing its help to be no longer needed,when suddenly he rose up in his bed, and cried out with a bittercry that broke the silence, sharply startling every one with itsagonized appeal:

"For God's sake, give me air!"

It was the only cry pain or death had wrung from him, the onlyboon he had asked; and none of us could grant it, for all theairs that blew were useless now. Dan flung up the window. Thefirst red streak of dawn was warming the grey east, a herald ofthe coming sun; John saw it, and with the love of light whichlingers in us to the end, seemed to read in it a sign of hope ofhelp, for, over his whole face there broke that mysteriousexpression, brighter than any smile, which often comes to eyesthat look their last. He laid himself gently down; and,stretching out his strong right arm, as if to grasp and bring theblessed air to his lips in a fuller flow, lapsed into a mercifulunconsciousness, which assured us that for him suffering wasforever past. He died then; for, though the heavy breaths stilltore their way up for a little longer, they were but the waves ofan ebbing tide that beat unfelt against the wreck, which animmortal voyager had deserted with a smile. He never spoke again,but to the end held my hand close, so close that when he wasasleep at last, I could not draw it away. Dan helped me, warningme as he did so that it was unsafe for dead and living flesh tolie so long together; but though my hand was strangely cold andstiff, and four white marks remained across its back, even whenwarmth and color had returned elsewhere, I could not but be gladthat, through its touch, the presence of human sympathy, perhaps,had lightened that hard hour.

When they had made him ready for the grave, John lay in state forhalf an hour, a thing which seldom happened in that busy place;but a universal sentiment of reverence and affection seemed tofill the hearts of all who had known or heard of him; and whenthe rumor of his death went through the house, always astir, manycame to see him, and I felt a tender sort of pride in my lostpatient; for he looked a most heroic figure, lying there statelyand still as the statue of some young knight asleep upon histomb. The lovely expression which so often beautifies dead faces,soon replaced the marks of pain, and I longed for those who lovedhim best to see him when half an hour's acquaintance with Deathhad made them friends. As we stood looking at him, the wardmaster handed me a letter, saying it had been forgotten the nightbefore. It was John's letter, come just an hour too late togladden the eyes that had longed and looked for it so eagerly!yet he had it; for, after I had cut some brown locks for hismother, and taken off the ring to send her, telling how well thetalisman had done its work, I kissed this good son for her sake,and laid the letter in his hand, still folded as when I drew myown away, feeling that its place was there, and making myselfhappy with the thought, that, even in his solitary place in the"Government Lot," he would not be without some token of the lovewhich makes life beautiful and outlives death. Then I left him,glad to have known so genuine a man, and carrying with me anenduring memory of the brave Virginia blacksmith, as he layserenely waiting for the dawn of that long day which knows nonight.