“Mourn, mourn for him, the youthful one, O heart of life and bloom! Death dimmed the splendor of thy sun, O earth! within his tomb. Mourn, mourn for him, the gifted one, O kindred heart, O poet heart! O heart of life and bloom! “Moan, moan around the soldier’s bed, O waves of the year’s spring-tide! Chant dirges o’er his buried head--in life’s young spring he died. Moan, moan around the soldier’s bed, O solemn waves! O sobbing waves! O waves of the year’s spring-tide! “Weep, weep beside the stranger’s rest, O heart of woman fair! Far from a mother’s faithful breast he died, and slumbers there. Weep, weep beside the stranger’s rest, O mother heart! O maiden heart! O heart of woman fair! “Rest, rest within our Southern land, young soldier, good and brave; A white-rose wreath the stranger’s hand will lay upon thy grave, For those who weep in far North-land--thy childhood’s home--a stricken band, Who mourn the lost and brave.” The 9th of the month I went to Falmouth, with nearly four thousand pounds of hospital stores, which had been brought from Monroe, Mich., by Mr. Marvin, designed expressly for those in the field. I was accompanied by Mrs. Munsell and Mrs. Beckwith--the latter a Massachusetts lady, whose husband was killed a few months before--who were also taking supplies to the army. We arrived at Aquia Creek in time for the three o’clock train, and at four were at Falmouth Station, where I had some trouble in getting my goods together, but finally succeeded, and then stationed myself as guard over them, remaining on duty until I could send a distance of three miles for transportation. Here Mrs. Munsell left me, as she was going to a different part of the army. It was about eight o’clock when Chaplain May jumped upon the platform near where I was standing. No lone sentinel at his post was ever more rejoiced to hear the approaching footsteps of the “second relief” than was I to see the chaplain that evening. He brought an ambulance and large army-wagon, which were soon loaded, a guard placed over the remainder of my stores, and we on our way, through darkness and mud, to the camp of the Second Michigan, it being nearly ten o’clock when we arrived. I was delighted once more to meet my good friends, the chaplain’s family and Mrs. Bonine; and after partaking of a warm supper, which was in readiness, we visited, until reminded by the small hours of the night that it was time to retire. Presently we find ourselves stowed away for the night, six of us in a little cabin, perhaps eighteen feet by twenty, and are soon lost in the land of pleasant dreams. The next day was warm and agreeable. I assisted in distributing some of the supplies which I had taken down. Nothing was eaten with a better relish than the pickles and sour-kraut. There seemed to be a hankering for acids, the absence of which was the cause of much sickness.