and those
located in cities where every convenience obtainable for money was
profuse. Those in Nashville, Gallatin, and Louisville were, at all
times, in the most perfect order. Still, in the field, and often in
cities, cut off as Nashville and Murfreesboro sometimes are, the men
suffer from the want of many little things. Miss LOUISA ALLCOTT, of
Boston, who has been kindly administering to the wants of the sick and
wounded in the hospitals, says:

One evening I found a lately-emptied bed occupied by a large, fair
man, with a fine face, and the serenest eyes I ever met. One of the
earlier comers had often spoken of a friend who had remained behind,
that those apparently worse wounded than himself might reach a shelter
first. It seemed a David and Jonathan sort of friendship. The man
fretted for his mate, and was never tired of praising John, his
courage, sobriety, self-denial, and unfailing kindliness of
heart--always winding up with--"He's an out-and-out fine feller,
ma'am; you see if he aint." I had some curiosity to behold this piece
of excellence, and, when he came, watched him for a night or two
before I made friends with him; for, to tell the truth, I was afraid
of the stately-looking man, whose bed had to be lengthened to
accommodate his commanding stature--who seldom spoke, uttered no
complaint, asked no sympathy, but tranquilly observed all that went on
about him; and, as he lay high upon his pillows, no picture of dying
statesman or warrior was ever fuller of real dignity than this
Virginia blacksmith.

NO HOPE.

A most attractive face he had, framed in brown hair and beard,
comely-featured and full of vigor, as yet unsubdued by pain,
thoughtful, and often beautifully mild, while watching the afflictions
of others, as if entirely forgetful of his own. His mouth was firm and
grave, with plenty of will and courage in its lines, but a smile could
make it as sweet as any woman's; and his eyes were child's eyes,
looking one fairly in the face, with a clear, straightforward glance,
which promised well for such as placed their faith in him. He seemed
to cling to life as if it were rich in duties and delights, and he had
learned the secret of content. The only time I saw his composure
disturbed was when my surgeon brought another to examine John, who
scrutinized their faces with an anxious look, asking of the elder: "Do
you think I shall pull through, sir?" "I hope so, my man." And, as the
two passed on, John'