FTER the {156}slaughter at Fredericksburg, Ralph rapidly failed in strength. The excitement of that scene of carnage and his increasing exhaustion told upon his frame. He fulfilled his duty as well as he could; he was cheerful and alert; he wrote more often to his dear mother without ever alluding to his health. “I can't understand what ails me,” he thought. “I have never received a wound, while some of the boys who have been badly cut up are well again, and seem as strong as ever. I do believe I miss Old Bill more every day. I never felt sad or lonely when I had him to cheer me up.” He grew daily worse. Often when on duty he would halt, with weak and failing breath. He lost all desire for food, and his lusterless eyes and pale skin told how he suffered. “What seems to be the matter, sergeant?” one of his comrades asked, anxiously. “You don't pear to have any vim about you. Why, if you hadn't shown such pluck--fact is, if it was any one but you, I mout 'cuse you of playing off.” “I'm all right, Hank. I feel a little weak and have hard chills sometimes--but I'll be better soon. I'm a little sick, that's all.” “That's enough. You ain't been yerself since we fit at Fair Oaks I've seen it a long time. That malary from the swamps has finished many a strong man.” At last Ralph had to succumb. His condition was observed by the doctor, who called the attention of his captain to the fact that he was no longer fit for duty. And when one morning he was not able to report at early {157}roll call, it was with gloomy forebodings that he heard the order that he be removed to the hospital at once. “Is this the end of my ambitious hopes?” he queried. “Am I going to die when I am willing to serve my country? I would not mind being killed in battle, as a soldier should be, but to die in hospital, far from my mother. It is hard!” And he buried his face in his pillow to hide the hot tears that he could not keep back. When weeks passed, and Ralph grew no better, the Colonels attention was directed to his case. He was a severe disciplinarian, but he had a kindly heart, and he speedily forwarded a recommendation to the war department that Sergeant Gregory, Company K, Massachusetts Volunteers, be honorably discharged from the service of the United States. A document granting the request came back in due time, to the Colonel, who passed it to the captain, and he handed it to Ralph, who could not repress his emotion. “I enlisted to the end of the war. I do not want a discharge. Could you not have obtained me a sick leave? I know I shall be strong soon.” The doctor shook his head solemnly. “You are not fit to march, or do active duty--perhaps' never will be. The hardships incident to a campaign have broken you down. You were very young to have undertaken them. I do not wish to wound your pride, but the government does not want sick men on its rolls.”