The last ten or twelve days of April I saw that his case
was critical. He previously had some fever, with cold spells. The last
week in April he was much of the time flighty--but always mild and
gentle. He died first of May. The actual cause of death was pyaemia,
(the absorption of the matter in the system instead of its discharge.)
Frank, as far as I saw, had everything requisite in surgical
treatment, nursing, &c. He had watches much of the time. He was so
good and well-behaved and affectionate, I myself liked him very much.
I was in the habit of coming in afternoons and sitting by him, and
soothing him, and he liked to have me--liked to put his arm out and
lay his hand on my knee--would keep it so a long while. Toward the
last he was more restless and flighty at night--often fancied himself
with his regiment--by his talk sometimes seem'd as if his feelings
were hurt by being blamed by his officers for something he was
entirely innocent of--said, "I never in my life was thought capable of
such a thing, and never was." At other times he would fancy himself
talking as it seem'd to children or such like, his relatives I
suppose, and giving them good advice; would talk to them a long while.
All the time he was out of his head not one single bad word or idea
escaped him. It was remark'd that many a man's conversation in his
senses was not half as good as Frank's delirium. He seem'd quite
willing to die--he had become very weak and had suffer'd a good deal,
and was perfectly resign'd, poor boy.
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