n the knee. I visited and sat by him frequently, as he was
fond of having me. The last ten or twelve days of April I saw that
his case was critical. The last week in April he was much of the
time flighty, but always mild and gentle. He died 1st of May.
Frank, as far as I saw, had everything requisite in surgical
treatment, nursing, &c. He had watchers most of the time--he was
so good and well-behaved and affectionate. I myself liked him very
much. I was in the habit of coming in afternoons and sitting by
him and soothing him; and he liked to have me--liked to put his
arm out and lay his hand on my knee--would keep it so a long
while. Towards the last he was more restless and flighty at
night--often fancied himself with his regiment, by his talk
sometimes seemed as if his feelings were hurt by being blamed by
his officers for something he was entirely innocent of--said, 'I
never in my life was thought capable of such a thing, and never
was.' At other times he would fancy himself talking, as it seemed,
to children and such like--his relatives, I suppose--and giving
them good advice--would talk to them a long while. All the time he
was out of his head not one single bad word or idea escaped him.
It was remarked that many a man's conversation in his senses was
not half so good as Frank's delirium. He seemed quite willing to
die--he had become weak and had suffered a good deal, and was
quite resigned, poor boy! I do not know his past life, but I feel
as if it must have been good; at any rate, what I saw of him here
under the most trying circumstances, with a painful wound, and
among strangers, I can say that he behaved so brave, so composed,
and so sweet and affectionate, it could not be surpassed.... I
thought perhaps a few words, though from a stranger, about your
son, from one who was with him at the last, might be worth while,
for I loved the young man, though I but saw him immediately to
lose him."

The grammar here is all wrong, but observe the profound goodness of
the writer; he hides nothing he knows that bereaved mother wants to
know about her Frank, her boy; and he tells her everything essential
with rude and noble tenderness, just as though the woman's sorrowing
eyes were on his face. It is a beautiful letter, bald as it is, and I
commend the style to writers on all subjects, even though a
schoo