Our best and brightest young men were passing away. Many of them, the most of them, were utter strangers to us; but the wounded soldier ever found a warm place in our hearts, and they were strangers no more. A Southern lady has written some beautiful lines, suggested by the death of a youthful soldier in one of our hospitals. So deeply touching is the sentiment, and such the exquisite pathos of the poetry, that we shall insert them in our memorial to those sad times. When all sentiment was well nigh crushed out, which courts the visit of the nurse, these lines sent a thrill of ecstasy to our hearts, and comfort and sweetness to the bereaved in many far-off homes of the South. Of "Somebody's Darling," she writes: Into a ward of the whitewashed halls Where the dead and dying lay; Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's darling was borne one day. Somebody's darling so young and so brave, Wearing yet on his sweet, pale face, Soon to be laid in the dust of the grave, The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. Matted and damp are the curls of gold, Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; Pale are the lips of delicate mould, Somebody's darling is dying now! Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow, Brush the wandering waves of gold; Cross his hands on his bosom now-- Somebody's darling is still and cold. Kiss him once, for somebody's sake, Murmur a prayer, soft and low. One bright curl from its fair mates take, They were somebody's pride, you know. Somebody's hand hath rested there, Was it a mother's, soft and white; Or have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in their waves of light? God knows best! He has somebody's love, Somebody's heart enshrined him there; Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away, Looking so handsome, brave and grand! Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay, Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody's waiting, and watching for him, Yearning to hold him again to her heart, And there he lies--with his blue eyes dim, And his smiling, child-like lips apart! Tenderly bury the fair young dead, Pausing to drop o'er his grave a tear; Carve on the wooden slab at his head, "'Somebody's darling' is lying here!" CHAPTER IV THEIR PLUCK FEMALE RECRUITING OFFICERS [J. L. Underwood.] The young women and girls brightly and cordially cheered every Confederate volunteer. Nothing was too good for him, and smiles of sisterly esteem and love met him at every turn. There was a sort of intoxication in the welcome and applause that everywhere greeted the young volunteer. To many it was full pay for the sacrifice. Many an expectant bride sadly but resolutely postponed marriage, and sent her affianced lover to the army.