some I wrote letters to their home friends, which I found was often
very gratifying to poor homesick boys. One very sick with pneumonia
wished me to write to his folks in Kent County, Michigan, that he was
in the hospital from a little cold, but would soon be able to join his
regiment again. I dared not write according to his directions, and
told him I would finish his letter at head-quarters. When he asked my
name, he wanted to know if I was a relative of Rev. D. S. Haviland, in
Kent County, Michigan. When I told him he was my son, he held my hand
in both of his and burst into a flood of tears, and said he had heard
him preach many times, and thought he was such a good man. I saw his
feelings were deeply affected, and I feared it would increase the
fever, and I promised to come and see him again in a day or two. I sat
by him with my hand upon his head and consoled him as best I could.
When he became calm I left, and called on his physician for his
opinion concerning him. He said he was still in a critical condition,
but thought the disease was turning in his favor, and advised me not
to write to his friends until two days more had passed, as he would
then be able to judge better of his case. Two days later I called
again and found him much better, but the doctor thought the excitement
of my leaving him increased the fever during the afternoon. He was now
a little stronger, and he said I had better not let him know that I
designed leaving the city. I finished the letter with greater
encouragement than I could have done conscientiously on my first
visit.

As I was passing out one of the convalescents said, "Frank, here is
that woman you wanted to see;" and he came on a run.

"Are you from Michigan?" I asked.