e of the most interesting of the patients, who lived a few weeks after
coming, was Hiram Campbell, of the Hundred and Forty-fifth Pennsylvania
Regiment. An imprisonment of one hundred and thirty-eight days had
reduced him to a point beyond recovery. Day by day he grew weaker, yet
clung to life for the sake of going home to see his friends once more. A
few weeks before, Dr. Vanderkeift had allowed a man in similar
condition to start for home, and he had died on the way; so that the
Doctor had made a rule that no man should leave the hospital unless able
to walk to head-quarters to ask for his own papers. An exception to this
rule could not be granted, and the only chance was to try to build up
Campbell's little remaining strength for the journey, to relieve his
sufferings by comforts, and to keep hope alive in his mind by
interesting him in stories and books. He was delighted to have
"Evangeline" read to him, and the faint smile which passed over his
haggard features as he listened told of a romance in his own life,
begun, but destined too soon to be broken off by death. When too low to
write, as a lady was answering a letter from his sister for him, he
asked to have it read over to him. In her letter the sister had
requested him to name her infant daughter. When the lady came to this
request, he stopped her by asking what she thought a pretty name. Edith
was suggested, but he did not seem satisfied with that; at last he said
shyly, "How do you spell your name? I think I would like to have her
named for you." The lady felt rather embarrassed in writing this, and
persuaded him to let her mention several names, so that at least the
sister might have a choice. This was only a few days before his death.
His father was sent for, because it was evident that there could no
longer be any hope of returning strength for him. The poor old man was
heart-broken when he saw his son in such an emaciated condition. They
had heard at home of his severe sufferings, but said he, "How could I
ever expect to see him the like of this?" With patient resignation to
God's will, the sufferer waited, and his life ebbed slowly away.

The sorrow-stricken father took to his home in the interior of
Pennsylvania the body of his son, that he might rest in the village
graveyard by the side of his mother. By his grassy grave a little child
often hears from her mother's lips how her uncle fought and died for
the country, and with questioning wonder asks, "A