Poor Charley had gone beyond all danger now, and I mourned, because he could not have lived to return home, and enjoy the sweets of peace, when he has suffered so much mental agony under the banners of war.
Our men were jubilant at the front. The sadness which the death of the President had thrown over them, was not strong as the life which imbued those mortal hearts with love of home, toward which their eyes turned with eager longing; and although they mourned him who had fallen, yet eyes were bright with hope, and voices glad in their joy that the war was virtually ended.
I returned from my visit, on the engine, as the cars were loaded with wood, resuming my work like a child which sees its task almost done, and the reward nigh.
We had many painful operations to perform and to witness. One mere boy from the Thirty-first Maine had a ball pass through his throat, and the flesh had to be cut in order to take up the arteries, and for three weeks was fed through a glass pipe of the size of one of common clay. He would smile as I called him my little cut throat, and seemed very cheerful under his affliction. I never knew whether or not he recovered, if he did and these lines should ever meet his eye, he will remember Aunt Becky in her bed-tick dress, who used to come daily into his ward, and try to cheer up his drooping spirits. I think he lived, for Dr. McDonalds was one of the most skilful surgeons in our corps, and in difficult operations was nearly always successful.
