Instead of attending church this morning, I went to Stanton Hospital with delicacies for the sick. I will mention a few special cases of suffering which I witnessed in one of the wards, and which will be a fair specimen of the average of such in the other wards. There was one poor man almost distracted with pain in his head, the effects of a sun-stroke; the only relief he could find was in bathing his head in cold water. Near him was one very low with typhoid fever, uttering incoherent expressions about “battles” and “marches,” and “home” and “mother.” A little further down the ward was a poor fellow who was brought in last night--having been picked up by the road-side, in a senseless condition--and has not yet returned to consciousness. His physician says he can not survive, and, as he has no papers, or any means by which he can be identified, another will soon be added to the long list of the “unknown.” Soon after returning home, a Mrs. Smith, from New Jersey, called, and requested me to return with her to the same hospital. She had come to see her sick son; but, upon her arrival at the hospital last evening, found that he was already dead, and was requested by the surgeon, when she asked to see him, to wait until this morning, as it was then late. On going to see him this morning with the hope of following his remains to the grave, she found, to her horror and amazement, that he was already buried. The officer who had charge of the burying was deeply grieved that he had not been notified of the arrival of the mother of the young man, while the doctor could only plead forgetfulness as an excuse for not informing him. The only consolation left her--and that a poor one--was to visit his grave. An ambulance was ordered, and we drove out to the “Soldier’s Home.” It was now dark; the undertaker directed us to the spot, and there, by the aid of a lamp, that widowed mother was permitted to look upon the newly-made grave, which contained all that remained of her only son, upon whose breast a few hours before the cold earth had been heaped. While I wept with this sorrowing mother, I was filled with indignation at the outrage to which she had been compelled to submit. If that surgeon possessed the common feelings of humanity, he would have ordered the body disinterred, and thus have given the poor woman the little consolation she might have obtained from gazing once more upon the features of her darling boy; but even this sad privilege was denied her. To-morrow she returns to her lonely home, whose light has been forever extinguished. * * * * *