ERASTUS HASKELL.--[I just transcribe verbatim from a letter written by myself in one of the army hospitals, 16 years ago, during the secession war.] _Washington, July 28, 1863._--Dear M.,--I am writing this in the hospital, sitting by the side of a soldier, I do not expect to last many hours. His fate has been a hard one--he seems to be only about 19 or 20--Erastus Haskell, company K, 141st N. Y.--has been out about a year, and sick or half-sick more than half that time--has been down on the peninsula--was detail'd to go in the band as fifer-boy. While sick, the surgeon told him to keep up with the rest--(probably work'd and march'd too long.) He is a shy, and seems to me a very sensible boy--has fine manners--never complains--was sick down on the peninsula in an old storehouse--typhoid fever. The first week this July was brought up here--journey very bad, no accommodations, no nourishment, nothing but hard jolting, and exposure enough to make a well man sick; (these fearful journeys do the job for many)--arrived here July 11th--a silent dark-skinn'd Spanish-looking youth, with large very dark blue eyes, peculiar looking. Doctor F. here made light of his sickness--said he would recover soon, etc.; but I thought very different, and told F. so repeatedly; (I came near quarreling with him about it from the first)--but he laugh'd, and would not listen to me. About four days ago, I told Doctor he would in my opinion lose the boy without doubt--but F. again laugh'd at me. The next day he changed his opinion--brought the head surgeon of the post--he said the boy would probably die, but they would make a hard fight for him.
The last two days he has been lying panting for breath--a pitiful sight. I have been with him some every day or night since he arrived. He suffers a great deal with the heat--says little or nothing--is flighty the last three days, at times--knows me always, however--calls me "Walter"--(sometimes calls the name over and over and over again, musingly, abstractedly, to himself.) His father lives at Breesport, Chemung county, N. Y., is a mechanic with large family--is a steady, religious man; his mother too is living. I have written to them, and shall write again to-day--Erastus has not receiv'd a word from home for months.