I did not heed the balls which fell around us thick as rain,
I did not know my arm was gone;
I felt nor wound nor pain,
I only stooped and kissed those lips which ne'er would speak again.

''O Louis!' (and the lad looked up and brushed a tear aside,)
'O Louis! brother of my soul! my boyhood's fearless guide!
By the bright heaven where thou stand'st--by thy big-hearted faith--
By these the tears our mother sheds--by this my failing breath--
Forgive me for that murd'rous thrust which wounded thee to death.

''Forgive me! I would yield my life to give thee thine, my brother!
What's this? Don't shut the sunlight out; I can not see my mother.
The air blows sweet from yonder field!
Dear Lou, put up your sword.
Let's weave a little daisy-chain
upon this pleasant sward--'
And with a smile upon his mouth, the boy slept in the Lord.'

Such are the tragedies of civil war, the fearful probability of such
events. But who has not heard of families with sons in either army,
especially on the border, in Philadelphia, and Baltimore? We have heard
_seven_ such instances enumerated by one lady of the former city. Let us
turn from tragedy to comedy:

* * * * *

CAPPED THE CLIMAX.

The ladies of Christopher's Church, Philadelphia, have worked like
true-hearted women for the wounded soldiers. Many a poor fellow has
blessed them for their contributions to alleviate his pain and make the
old hospital comfortable for him. In the congregation, one elderly
maiden lady, who had so far given nothing, was called on by one of her
energetic sisters in the church, and implored to do something for the
poor soldiers. She was told that any thing that would render their
sufferings less would be gratefully received.

She promised to send a donation. Nothing more was heard from her for a
couple of weeks, when one morning the ladies assembled in the
vestry-room of the church received a large basket from the elderly
maiden lady. On opening it, they found three dozen starched muslin,
night-cape, with frills all round them, bows and long strings.

'Did you ever?' asked Miss G----. 'I declare Miss---- has set her Caps
for the soldiers in earnest this time.

* * * * *

We select the following as the best proposed completion of the
unfinished poem by Fitz-James O'Brien, published in our July number:

_Detroit, Mich., June 22d, 1862._

EDITORS OF CO