There was in my company a man by the name of Frank R----d, who, for several months, had been careless about writing to his mother, who was a widow. At last the poor widow's heart could stand the suspense no longer, and she wrote to a daughter, then living in the State of Indiana, to assist her in her efforts to find out what had become of Frank. The sister immediately wrote to the Captain of the company to learn the fate of her brother. The neglect on the part of Frank to write was not for lack of affection, but simply because of a careless habit. At last Frank was taken sick with a fever, and rapidly grew worse. The regiment was preparing to move from Paducah, Ky., up the Tennessee River, and it became necessary to leave Frank in the hospital. Just a few moments before he was to be carried off from the boat, his Captain received the letter from his sister, inquiring what had become of Frank. The Captain carried the letter to him and read it, and then said, "Frank, what shall I write to your sister?" He thought a moment, and then, his eyes filling with tears, he said: "Oh, for God's sake, Captain, _don't tell sister how sick I am_!" It was affecting indeed to see the heroism with which that dear boy suffered, and his affectionate and tender regard for his sister; was unwilling that she should know the extent of his sufferings lest she should worry about him. "Brave boy! he has gone at his country's call." The first mail after we left him brought the sad intelligence that Frank was dead. Wounded soldiers generally manifest a cheerful resignation to their lot that is astonishing to those who have never witnessed it. Sometimes, however, exceptions occur. I often think of an incident that I witnessed in which two extremes met. After the battle of Matamora, where General Hurlbut's command routed General Price's army, on its retreat after having been repulsed in its assault upon Corinth, I assisted in taking care of the wounded as they were brought in. Among the sufferers on that day was a Captain, with a flesh wound in the arm, and a private, with a leg dreadfully shattered below the knee. The Captain--though his wound was not of a serious nature--gave way to his feelings, and took on dreadfully, and frequently called upon the doctor to come and dress his wound or he should die. The private, then on the table, preparatory to an amputation of his limb, was heroically cool, and scarce a groan escaped his lips. At length his nerves could no longer stand the ridiculous clamor of the Captain, and he called out, "Captain, if you don't hush your gab until the doctor gets my leg off I'll throw it at you." The soldier endured the operation manfully, and the Captain took the hint and "dried up" his noise. It is not hard to tell which of the two was the bravest man.