ld of the coming sun. John saw
it, and, with the love of light which lingers in us to the end, seemed
to read in it a sign of hope, of help, for over his whole face broke
that mysterious expression, brighter than any smile, which often comes
to eyes that look their last. He laid himself down gently, and
stretching out his strong right arm, as if to grasp and bring the
blessed air to his lips in fuller flow, lapsed into a merciful
unconsciousness, which assured us that for him suffering was forever
past.

As we stood looking at him, the ward-master handed me a letter, saying
it had been forgotten the night before. It was John's letter, come
just an hour too late to gladden the eyes that had looked and longed
for it so eagerly--yet he had it; for after I had cut some brown locks
for his mother, and taken off the ring to send her, telling how well
the talisman 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 my own
away.

On my visit to the hospital at Gallatin, I was called to the bedside
of a dying boy, who belonged in Columbus, Ohio. There I met Dr. W. P.
Eltsun, Dr. Armington, Dr. Landis, and other surgeons, all working
faithfully for the suffering men; but Death had marked this boy for
his own. I took his almost pulseless hand in mine, wiped the cold
sweat from his brow, and, as I did so, he murmured, in a soft tone--a
tone of sweet sadness--and with a half vacant stare, "Mother, is that
you? O, how long I've waited for your coming! Tell sister I'm better
now. Good-by, Charlie. Halt! who goes there?" and then a sudden start
seemed to bring him to a realization of his situation, and he quietly
gazed at me for a moment, called me by name, and said, "Alf, will you
write a letter for me to-morrow?" This I promised, should he be able
to dictate to me what I should write. In a few minutes he again called
the sweet name of "Mother! Mother!" and with the words "good-by" upon
his lips, and a smile of joy beaming on his face, he fell into that
sleep that knows no waking.

There were three ministering angels, who had left all the luxuries of
a home, attending in this hospital. They had volunteered as nurses,
and had come from Indianapolis, to render all the aid they could to
our country's noble defenders. Indiana should remember the names of
Miss Bates, Miss Cathcart, and Mrs. Ketchum.

[Illustration: Sports in camp. See page 99.]

THE ENSIGN-BEARER.