My brother, Dr. L. P. Warren, tells me, that after he had given his services to all of the wounded who had been left in his charge, he obtained permission to visit the Federal hospitals, hoping to find something to do in the way of rendering assistance to such of the Southern wounded as might, perchance, have been received in them. He had heard, too, of the death of his brother, but there still lingered in his bosom a hope of finding him alive, and of being the instrument of his rescue and return.
He was making his final visit, and had passed the last ward, when he suddenly heard his name called and saw, running toward him, two soldiers whom he recognized as having belonged to the 52d North Carolina Regiment. In a moment they had embraced him, and were dragging him toward a little hut near by, crying out: "The Lieutenant is not quite dead. Come, for God's sake, and save him." Upon entering the pavilion he saw upon a rude couch the form of a human being, attenuated, wan, with sunken cheeks and lusterless eyes, apparently in the throes of death, which he recognized to be that of his brother, so long lost and so deeply mourned — the dear boy over whom a stricken household far away in the South was shedding its bitterest tears, and, like Rachel of old, refusing to be comforted.
Imagine, my dear Doctor, if you can, what were the feelings of these two brothers when they thus met in that distant land, remote from friends and kindred, the one supposing that the clods already covered the remains of him he loved so well, and the other believing that he would never behold the face or hear the voice of any one from home again. Surely a scene more touching than this was never witnessed by mortal man, and the rough soldiers around them bowed their heads in silent awe, and wept like children.
After many weary days of anxiety and watching, Llewellyn had the gratification of seeing the wounds heal kindly, the wasted frame grow comparatively strong, and the blanched cheek lose its pallor and glow with the hues of health again. In a word, the boy's life was saved ; and though for years be felt the effects of his wounds, he is now a healthy and vigorous man — as splendid a specimen of physical development as can he found in the South.
