It was my daily business during the war to read and answer letters to
sick soldiers. Almost all were such as I have described. A few, alas!
were far different. As I read them and watched the agony they caused,
I understood why some men became deserters, and absolutely revered the
manliness and patriotism which resisted a temptation so terrible.
It seemed once that I could never forget the contents of letters which
particularly impressed me, but am sorry I have done so and cannot
reproduce them here. One I can never forget. A tall, splendid Missouri
soldier came into my office one morning, his face convulsed with
grief. Handing me a letter, he sank into a chair, burying his face in
his hands and sobbing pitifully. A letter had been somehow conveyed to
him from his sister-in-law announcing that his wife was dying of
consumption. Appended to the letter (which was sad enough) were a few
lines written by the trembling hand of the dying one. "Darling, do not
let any thoughts of me come between you and your duty to our country.
I have longed to see you once more, to die with my head upon your
breast; but that is past,--I am calm and happy.
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