MR. JOHN SOMERS ESQ. Sir. I been wounded in the leg up the Missippi and can not do nothing more. I been in your division aboard the Rosalie, and I know you was a good man and I know you was a good officer, I hope you be in good helth, as I am not at this present writen. my Leg is very bad, and don't git no better. This is to inform you that I am the only son of a poor widdow, who has no other Son, and she can not do nothing for me, nor I can't do nothing for her. I have Fout for my countrey and have been woundded in the servis. If you could git a penshin for me. it would be a grate help to me Sorrowin condition. I live No -- Front Street. If I might make bold to ask you to come and see a old Sailor, thrown on the beam ends of missfortune, I would be very thankful to you. Yours to command, THOMAS BARRON. N. B. The doctor says he thinks my Leg will have to come off. Tom Longstone knows me, and you ask him, he will tell you all About me. "Thomas Barron," mused Somers, as he folded the letter. "I don't remember him. There were two or three Toms on board the Rosalie. At any rate, I have nothing better to do than call upon him. He is an old sailor, and that is enough for me." It was already after dark; but he decided to visit the sufferer that night, and after tea he left the house for this purpose. He was sufficiently acquainted with the streets of this systematic city to make his way without assistance. Of course he did not expect to find the home of the old sailor in a wealthy and aristocratic portion of the city; but if he had understood the character of the section to which the direction led him, he would probably have deferred his charitable mission till the following day. On reaching the vicinity of the place indicated, he found himself in a vile locality, surrounded by the lowest and most depraved of the population. With considerable difficulty he found the number mentioned in the letter. The lower story of the building was occupied as a liquor shop, and a further examination of the premises assured him the place was a sailor's boarding-house. As this fact was not inconsistent with the character of Tom Barron, he entered the shop. Half a dozen vagabonds had possession; and as Somers entered, the attention of the whole group was directed to him. "Is there a sailor by the name of Thomas Barron in this house?" asked Somers of the greasy, corpulent woman, who stood behind about four feet of counter, forming the bar, on which were displayed several bottles and decanters. "Yes, sir; and very bad he is too," replied the woman, civilly enough, though the young officer could hardly help shuddering in her presence. "Could I see him?" "I 'spect you can, if you be the officer Tom says is comin' to see him." "I am the person." "Tom's very bad." "So he says in his letter." "He hain't had a minute's peace or comfort with that leg sence he come home from the war. Be you any relation of his?" "I am not." "Mebbe you're his friend."