One morning, as I was just recovering from fever and ague, Jack, our faithful colored boy, made his appearance at the door of my tent, touching his hat in the most approved military style, and handed me a letter bearing my address, saying, as he did so, "Dar's a box at de 'spress office for you. May I run and fotch it?" I said, "Oh, yes, Jack, you may bring it, but be careful and keep the cover on, there may be chickens in it." Jack knew the meaning of that allusion to chickens, and so ran off singing: Massa run, ha, ha! Darkies stay, ho, ho! It must be now dat de kingdom's cumin In de year ob jubilo. In the meantime I opened my letter, from which I make the following extract: "Having learned your address through Mrs. L----, whose son was killed at the battle of Bull Run, we send you a donation in token of our respect and esteem, and of our gratitude for your faithfulness on the field and in the hospital." The following lines were also inclosed: In the ranks of the sick and dying, in the chamber where death-dews fall, Where the sleeper wakes from his trances to leap to the bugle-call, Is there hope for the wounded soldier? Ah, no! for his heart-blood flows, 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.