Is there hope for the wounded soldier? Ah, no! for his heart-blood flow
And the flickering flames of life must wane, to fail at the evening's close.
Oh, thou who goest, like a sunbeam, to lighten the darkness and gloom,
Make way for the path of glory through the dim and shadowy room;
Go speak to him words of comfort, and teach him the way to die,
With his eyes upraised from the starry flag to the blessed cross on high.
And tell him brave hearts are beating with pulses as noble as thine;
That we count them at home by the thousands—thou sweetest sister of mine;
That they fail not and flinch not from duty while the vials of wrath are outpoured.
And tell him to call it not grievous, but joyous to fall by the sword.
When the hosts of the foe are outnumbered, and the day of the Lord is at hand.
Shall we halt in the heat of the battle, and fail at the word of command?
Oh, no! through the trouble and anguish, by the terrible pathway of blood,
We must bear up the flag of our freedom, on — on through the perilous flood.
And if one should be brought faint and bleeding, though wounded, yet not unto death.
Oh plead with the soft airs of heaven to favor his languishing breath;
Be faithful to heal and to save him, assuaging the fever and pains.
Till the pulse in his strong arm be strengthened and the blood courses free in his veins.
While Mrs. B. and I were speculating with regard to the contents of the box, Jack's woolly head reappeared in the doorway, and the subject of our curiosity was before us. "Dar it be, and mity heavy, too; guess it mus' be from ——." So saying, young hopeful disappeared. The box was soon opened, its contents examined and commented upon. First came a beautiful silk and rubber reversible cloak, which could be folded into such
