Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1862-06-06

became thin and pale. He never lost his
joyeus spirit, but always seemed hopeful,
even when too i'll to raise from his berth.
One afternoon / was startled on entering,
by the most piteous cries, and found that
they came from my little favorite generally
so brave and patient.
Why, frankie, what is the matter? l
asked bending over him.
Oh, you have come did wish for you
so much. Oh. all die, and I wanted
somebody BY who seemed to care for me a
little. You do like me, don't you, dear Mrs
S.? You've been so kind to me- Oh,
this pain! l can't stand it long
His hands grasped mine nervously, and
overy fibre of his frame quivered with
pain. | saw that the dews of death were
standing thickly already, on the broad,
beautiful forehead over which the fair hair
clustered SO prettily. and my eyes filled
with tears of sorrow deeper than words
could express, stopped to kiss him. and
a glad cry escaped the poor blue lips Of the
dying boy.
Oh, kiss me again, won't you? That is
like nay sister. Do kiss me once more !;
I feel better. Oh, / wouldn't mind to die
if my sisters were here to tell me they lov-
ed me. You do love me little, don't
you?
Yes, great deal, frankie; as mrch as
if | were your sister. Don't you think So
I'm sure you're good boy, and | am sorry
to see you suffer SO.
He drew me down toward him, and
pressed his face close to my arms. Icould
endure no more. The poor boys mute
appeal for tenderness and sympathy in his
dying hour, far from home, breathing out
his young life amid strangers, unnerved
me. | drew that young bright head to MY
bosom, and my tears fell fast upon its sun
ny curls
Did the gentle sister be loved, have one
thoug of the scene that was transpiring
On that night, while perchance they sat
and talked of him. their only and petted
brother, IN their far off home in Neb aska =?
You will stay with me tonight. won t
you? he pleaded again Oh, you won't
leave me to die alone!
No, frankie, I'll stay with you.
He was comforted and became more
quiet as / cIasped his hands and tried to
soothe him. Gradually purple hue over
spread his face Now his lips became
whittier, and the large clear eyes grew rest
less When be could no longer speak,
those eyes plead for seInc token Of endear-
ment. and each time that I pressed kiss
upon his forehead, look Of deep and
earnest gratitude softened the suffering ex-
pressiols Of his face
About mise o'clock he breatbed bis last
and now every time look down at nv
hand and see the little ring of mine he
wore before lie died. seem to see the
parting look Of his great sad eyes ere they
fixed in death. How sad the task to brush
back the damp locks from the cold brow,
and compose the blae limbs in their last
repose! That night I wept and prayed
for the sisters as l had never wept and
prayed for myself. for he was all they had.
A few days after this, another of my pa
tients, one who was fast recovering, |
thought, nad relapse, and was again con-
fined to his bartb. There had been storm
that dashed in the windows, and be got
vet.
On Friday, he asked lie to write some
letters to bis brother, sister, aud his be-
trothed. l Gid so, while be dictated. He
appeared to be well educated and had a
rich vein Of mirth and sentiment pervadine
his nature. This | soon discovered in his
dictations, ard was much interested. He
showed me the miniatures of his friends,
and talked of soon returning home. Babe
me say to bis sister that he was coming
soon. If be couldn't get a furlough, be
would make one. &c.
Saturday found me almost blind from in
fammation of the eyes, and I did not get to
the hospital again until Monday morning.
Sad faces greeted me. Matron, physicians
and nurses, wore serious faces, and the
steward quietly placed letters, miniatures
and description roll in my hands. looked
toward Fred place-it was vacant!
Oh, that was sad task that | had then
to perform! To sit down. three days after
writing those pleasant, hopeful letters, and
tell them that the heart which dictated
them was still forever! I wrote to the
lady he would have made his wife. and re-
turned her letters. / had rather have per-
formed any other task on earth The poor
old father and mother, whose bent forms
were fast tottering to the graye-the bright,
sweet faced sister--the loving brother! To
all these l must convey tidings that would
sting the hardest heart. Yet, such is the
fortune of var
These are but few of the many instan-
ces of the kind which might be given to the
public Every day, for three or four