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women of war


Women of War




Introduction

Their fatal gift of beauty
to suffer in silence at home
Some women have broken through the rigidity of custom
They made delicacies for the sick
in a thousand terrible situations
They loved to labor
Both suffering and adventures
furnished here and there a name
conspicuous among armed men
The fruitful energy of all
to cheer and comfort the dying with gentle ministrations
Shining deeds have honored their country
gazetted for deeds unknown
from its positive newness well worthy of record
they cannot fail to warm the heart.



1.  Mrs. Fanny Ricketts.
She had now commenced slowly to recover from untold and innumerable dangers — a page in the history of the bloody war — which had carried her husband away from her.
In a country abounding in the luxuries of an old civilization there were also in the lower walks of life those obliged to remain lingering in an agony of suspense and doubt, clinging to a mighty hope.  She knew too well the difficulties she might plunge into while these suffering patriots were languishing, having suffered the amputation of a limb.
The ball had been extracted.  The generals knew the gigantic game was nearly ended for some whose public acts were thoroughly for disunion.  The discomforts and privations, the amount of corruption and gangrene which abounded, pressed like lead on the heart of his heroic wife.
On a part of the field still crimsoned with the streams of battle, with fatal skill, suggesting greater cruelties and hardships — so great was the danger from this latter source — and being obliged to bring water a half mile, she has elevated our estimate of human nature.  During all that summer and fall they continued.  Permission was asked and, after long delay, granted.  Daylight enabled her to trace the lines.  He ceased trying to make her go away.  His sword was brought to his agonized wife.  Many loyal women lived along the vexed border.  Battle’s magnificently stern array was far less severe on account of her gentle and womanly plea, in whose invincible might and perpetual integrity they never lost confidence as the proper desert of men.  During the long hours of that dreadful night, he dragged his still painful limb across the threshold.  She would not yield to a disaster so appalling.  She was hanging over his couch.  She had been called from her life of joyous ease.  He desired to “be in at the death.”  He was often engaged in repulsing roving bands.  They grasped with wild avidity at every fragment of news.  What fearful and ghastly scenery now surrounded this delicately reared woman!  A wretched victim was writhing in almost mortal agony under the knife and saw.  Passing through a furnace of suffering, she was plunged into a sea of horrors.  They gave fatal jolts to many a poor fellow.
The effect was to delay the last invasion.  His wound was mortal.  Sufferings and anxieties had devolved on both of them.  The stump was so bruised he bled to death.  She armed herself in a stoicism that seemed brave and unnatural.  It was verging to evening when for the last time he moved his head.  She had a mind of uncommon clearness.  They lay on the dirty floor and felt hope and life die out.  They were like savages caught in the act of cannibalism.  Their sorrow had united them in a deep though somber friendship.  There was a constant draught upon their vital powers.  Her patient kindness was unspeakably grateful to a sufferer.  She knew no rest or intermission in her labors.  She watched the sufferer, whispering words of comfort and consolation, sustaining him with exhortations.  She returned, crushed with nameless foreboding.  Rumors came crowding to her room.  Nothing but conviction could quench the mighty hope in her heart.  She was alleviating the slow misery that was settling like a pall upon them.


2.  Mrs. Mary A. Brady
Prominent among a numerous class, there were men who fought for very different motives.  Her life was that of an industrious woman.  She was thirsty with unspeakable longing.  Their ministries were not confined to the mere distribution of currant jelly.  They saw the long gray line of the enemy coming, rolling across the valley.
She was engaged in good work in visiting the afflicted.  They appealed to the cities and towns around Philadelphia.  The invading tide had been rolled back.  They shivered all night under one gray blanket.  Yet her family was not neglected.  She could hardly sleep for the groans from the tents.  Three fearful days piled the ground with bleeding wrecks of manhood.  They rubbed away the pain from mutilated limbs and bathed the feet of others.
She noticed a soldier staring very steadily at her face.  She reached home “completely wore out.”  Disease had seated itself at the fountains of her life.  They paid abundant honor to the memory of the dead.  The engagement threatened to become general and bloody.  Most of the money she gave in a private manner, but regularly.  The force was never greater, never more resolute.  She felt herself summoned to labors.  Talking with some poor fellow whose brain was full of fever, she thought the battle not yet over.  Now she penetrated to the extreme front.  The army was greatly demoralized, and the sick list was fearful.  They fought a superior force on the worst ground they could have chosen.  He would never forget the kindness bestowed on him by the ladies.  He didn’t care much about the loss of his arm.  His pallid face and bloody fingers were then bathed in cool water.
They established a depot of sanitary supplies.  The patient had a bed, narrow and hard indeed, but clean.  She planned fresh sacrifices and new fields of exertion.  She pushed her way through all embarrassments and delays.  War was the father of all things before impossible.  It sufficed to impress her with American love.  The absolute physical necessities were met by the customary appliances.  The silver cord of life was stretched too tightly.  Her labors were unceasing.  On that great day, he stood with his comrades on the hillside.  He had pluck, and then weakness, and pain, and hunger.  She provided for the release on that day of all the boys while faithfully striving to give to those most in need.  She went into the field.  A cheerful smile, a pleasant joke or a wish that she had, cost nothing.
They looked appalling. They were an army raised to the heroism of martyrs.  She felt summoned by a voice louder and nearer that before.  She remembered the day she held his hand while the doctors cut off his arm.  Sometimes she could secure no better bed than a bundle of wet straw.  She spoke a few low, kind words.  She did everything to assuage the pain and reinvigorate the currents of life.  She always went about doing good.
She was obliged to turn away when the operator took up the long, glittery knife.  She shared in the deep excitements and agitations of battle.  She sought out a camping ground near a large field hospital.  Simultaneously a concert of voices exclaimed that they would have died to the last man.  She fitted a fresher pad under a man’s throbbing stump.  She heard the rebel drums tattoo on the other side of the river.  She moved softly through the tents of pain.  She listened to a dreary chorus of coughing.  She told a charming narrative of how the contents of the boxes were given out.  At the depot there was a constantly increasing supply of various articles that soldiers were supposed to need.
He lost it in the line of duty.  She received many letters blessing her for her good deeds.  She saw him as she made her daily rounds.  His arm was still sore.  The food was brought up warm to the hospitals.  A large number of sorrowing friends were in attendance at her funeral.  A religion of love and charity she had eminently practiced fell with unexpected and crushing weight, causing the most acute suffering.  She was the center and the sun.  Her mind turned from the solemn surroundings of the deathbed, and the tearful faces of the children.  The nation was tip-toe with expectation.  The abnormal action of her heart grew worse and worse.  She was summoned away from stormy scenes and arduous labors.
The chloroform reduced him to insensibility.  She didn’t recollect him.  His eyes filled with tears.  Many had fallen in battle.  Rest and quiet could never restore her.  Her constitution had been rapidly enveloped recently by uncommon fatigue.  She continued to collect and prepare the stores.  They spoke cheerful words to them all, which were systematically dispensed.  For many hours after nightfall she was sure to be among the cots, beside those who suffered most.  
A little red flag indicated a sick tent.  Her boxes were piled up for a wall.  The sick list was fearful.  She hurried home to ply her needle.  Her thoughts were not on her personal discomforts.  They rose up in their beds in astonishment.  He wrote down for loving eyes and heavy hearts the same old soldier’s story.  He felt a general crush and a burning pain.
She learned the wants of the soldiers and did her best to relieve them.  She carried with her a moral cheer and soothing manner.  Her pleasant, home-like accent had been to his ear a stranger.  When the cannon opened up on them she could see the rough, ragged gaps that formed in the line and how they closed up and moved on.  They floundered in the mud and rain.  A low, dull fever overcame many.  He wrestled in grim patience with unceasing pain.  He yearned through long, hot nights for one touch of a cool, soft hand.
The object of the organization was to create communities to absorb all the contributions of charity and patriotism that could be made into a channel of relief.  She ceased to live.  A mutilated fragment of the army was brought in red with the fresh-flowing gore of battle.  She had a simple and unmixed desire to alleviate human suffering in any manner. She returned home only to restore her wasted energies and start out again on her errands of tireless philanthropy, a nurse of magnanimous acts.


3.  Kady Brownell
They were eloquent in their praise.  Devotion prompted her to follow her husband, whom she really pitied.  She was doing all she could for other sufferers.  She stood amid the roar and blood and dust of that terrible day.  She stood in the line with sword at her side.  He was sinking beside her, a shapeless and mutilated corpse.  They found her the best friend they ever had.  She forgot all about the brutal engineer.  He needed constant and skillful nursing.  They were about to charge with anything but cheerful faces.  In an instant his profane and indecent tongue was hushed forever
She became one of the quickest and most accurate marksmen in the regiment.  But the balls were flying too thick through the cover.  He was zealous for “short, sharp, and decisive” work.  Shells went screaming over her with the howl of an avenging demon.  She was as effective against the enemy as she was a graceful figure on parade.  Her name stands at the head of our sketch.
He responded to the first call for troops.  She acted simply as a color-bearer.  She knew her duty better.  She went on with the work which death had cut short.  One of them was standing in such a position as to obstruct the narrow passage.  She gave an excellent rifle she had captured to a soldier friend.  A sudden and marvelous change came over the scene.  She learned that his dead body was left at the skirt of the pine woods.  She spared him, ingrate that he was.  Shot and shell were flying thick from a direction that was unexpected.  He wanted to blow the head off her shoulders.  She saved a bucket of coffee and a pail of delicate soup.  He was fond of smoking.  She returned to the house where he had been carried.  The hatred of the time had driven from the hearts of some all honorable and Christian sentiments.  They spent month after month getting ready to move.  She was tortured by harassing stories.
She practiced daily.  On that eventful day the company was brought under fire.  They were on the point of being sacrificed by one of those blunders which cannot always be avoided.  Coolness is not equal to courage.  Fortunately, his life was not immediately in danger from bleeding.  It was apparent that the advancing forces were friends.  A soldier had fallen in a pool of dirty water and was rapidly losing blood.  He used a term which never defiles the lips of a lady.  It was eighteen months before he touched ground.  In her heart the woman triumphed, as tender as she was brave. 
 

4.  The Heroine of Shetock Lake
From the cool and lonely lakes, with cruel efficiency, a barrier of steel interposed between the treacherous barbarian and the ever-advancing line of industrious civilization.  Could the force of nature go farther?  She touched a chord of universal sympathy.  Like a leap of a tiger, the awful consciousness swept upon her.  Friendly and peaceable only when utterly crushed, they were raising their heads.  Flushed with success, they went on with their work of death.
They were contented and thought they had a permanent and happy home.  It was confirmed in her mind that her husband had been killed.  She dared not look around but kept on her way.  There was a loveliness and a sunny future opening before her on the pleasant morning.  She was afraid she would die at the hands of the savages.  They practiced every species of atrocity which their fiendish nature prompted.
During the recital of her story the audience was many times melted to tears.  Her heart died within her.  She was able to give her boy food.  She wanted to die right there and end her weary journey.  It seemed impossible to go on any longer.  Strange to say, he was still able to walk.  They shot him through the body, so he fell dead, with the child in his arms.  She laid her children down.  He was barefoot and dressed very thin.  The little one worried a good deal, and the night wore away slowly.
In the morning she started on.  She tried to eat but her stomach rejected it.  She was now very much reduced in strength.  The road was little traveled, grown up with grass.  She found the house deserted and perfectly empty.  She sank down in despair. Her precious little boy cried piteously.  No trail was visible. He moaned with hunger and weakness.  The army began to destroy everything they could get their hands on.  They started her off just as she was, without even a sun-bonnet on.  During the storm she lost the trail.  He pressed her hand then trudged manfully along by her side.  She saw to her sorrow that she had not yet commenced her terrible journey across the prairie.


5.  Margaret E. Breckinridge
She was wonderfully fascinating to the soldiers.  Her memory is fragrant now among the simple-hearted, patriotic people.  They had no time to attend to them.  She wouldn’t be satisfied till she got right in the hospital to live till the war was over.  How often she was assailed with the question:  Which one is too good to be omitted?  She was going, whoever may stay.  She had a desire to acquire actual experience in surgical cases.  She stirred the people with her war-cry.  Surely they who govern themselves can fight bravely!
She cheered the desponding.  She never went to her bed without looking in on him.  The vast proportions and evident duration of the struggle became apparent to all.  The fastenings were being removed surely, but noiselessly.  She uttered thrilling and memorable words.  The vast Niagara roars its sublime monotone as a dirge.  Pneumonia and typhoid fever were slaying more than fell by the bullet.  He lay down never to rise again.
From the outset she was possessed with the idea of becoming a hospital nurse.  She looked surprised at the question.  All was forgotten but the danger facing the country.  In her presence there was always sunshine.  She was standing where he stood then, gazing on the ruins he had made.  He came to her with a little note, which he handed to her without a word.  He sat gazing at an empty pulpit. There were a whole lot of wounded fellows on the hillside.  She had hundreds of opportunities and moments of influence.  Weeks of army labor counted as years for usefulness.
She considered it an honor to wait on him.  He drew his prayer book from his pocket.  Everyone who had a whole arm waved.  She had a soldiers’ song of which she was very proud.  It was a greater treasure than an autograph letter from the greatest man on earth.  They wanted to restore to them all that they had madly flung away.  Her health, never firm, received a serious shock.  Her hand glowed with light at she touched the parchment.  The growing streams poured inward to a common center.  She saw her hopes recede and end in disappointment.  She was interrupted by the visit of an old colored woman.  Ere she died her faculties and fame had reached their meridian.  She was, fatally to her own life, foremost in her devotion.


6.  Mrs. Elida Rumsey Fowle
In that dank and calamitous night a circular area was completed and dedicated by the friends of soldiers everywhere.  They formed a circle around her.  As though a command had been given, the men piled into a rude pyramid.  It was a sudden and novel mode of appreciation.  Such was their warmth and enthusiasm that the bloody, dreary days of suffering were forgotten.  Emaciated, sallow-looking, ragged — how fearfully they had changed in the midst of the disastrous rout!  The poor fellows had sweltered in the reeking pen, a name now infamous in military history, apparently ignored by that great government for which they had freely fought.  They gave up earth for heaven, brave boys.  Now they spend a life of love in their home beyond the “crystal sea.”  She only did what was her duty to do.
Matters had become very quiet in the valley after the big fight.  She loaded up some 450 loaves of bread, meat, spirits, bandages, shirts, and halted at a little building near the road.  Care was being taken to lay a wounded arm upon a sound leg, and a mutilated leg upon a body where it wouldn’t give pain — thus they were laid up on all sides of the room; and the blood that flowed from so many open wounds ran down and collected into a deep crimson pool in the middle of the floor.
Hopes were entertained that he would recover but he suddenly commenced to sink from internal bleeding.  She feared they overrated her services as a librarian.  She glanced down at his pallid face and saw that a great change had come over his marble features.  In the cool autumnal air every soldier started up from his attitude of languor and indifference.  A rare and beautiful voice could now be consecrated on the altar of patriotism, breathed low and sweet at the pillow of the dying, smoothing the ruggedness of the dark valley with undisturbed song of pure concert.
With needle, with pen, with hands and feet, when the national fortunes were lowest, she labored to soothe dying soldiers.  She was granted permission to erect a building.  A prayer went up to protect their noble band.  King Death had stolen upon him as he listened.  It was a favorite piece of hers, which she at one time gave in nearly all her concerts.  She went out and labored among the wounded and dying.  One wandered in from the battlefield, and fell down speechless from sheer exhaustion, and died in a few moments.  All these operating together were too much for her.  The smell of human blood was strong.
“Sing me a song before I go,” said the dying boy.  She was kept busy throughout the day.  The contact of water and the gentle pressure of the sponge soon removed the coagulated blood.  A group of sympathizing soldiers gathered around the bedside.  In the midst of these pleasures she had the richest memories of her life.  She was wholly devoted and absorbed.  They were conscious of being dirty and seedy looking.  Her voice choked and faltered, and the tears stood upon her cheeks.  She gave out bread to the famished boys.  In a few moments she was back again among the bleeding men.  Soon the blood began to flow in little spurts.
The dear little fellow was conscious that he was about to die.  As they stood or sat there on the ground, a pleasantly spoken gentlemen stepped among them.  They crowded around as soon it was known there was anything to eat there.  She went on binding wounds.  The only way she could keep from being overcome by such an accumulation of horrors was by active usefulness.  A letter from home proved he was a good and dutiful son.  She was united for life with the gentleman who had labored so effectively with her.  Certainly there was enough to be done.  Her power to cheer, elevate and entertain could not be over-estimated.


7.  Bridget Divers
Ladies of the highest refinement and social polish left homes of luxury to devote themselves to daily labor and nightly vigils.  The hearty good will, the vigorous sense and the unwearying industry of the laboring classes devoted to the good of the soldier also deserve unfeigned respect.  
Through the war she continued to act so as to reach the wants of her brigade.  She appeared to take a deep interest in everyone.  Her judgment became excellent, while she was really very kind and tenderhearted.  Her memory for names and places was truly wonderful.  She had two or three horses killed under her.  She managed by adroit maneuver to escape capture.  Any money given her was sure to go back to her regiment.  Her personal appearance was not prepossessing or attractive.  Her face became bronzed by exposure.  The heart that beats under her plain cassock is full of womanly kindness.  She became attached to the free and spirited life of the cavalry soldier and preferred camp life.


8.  Mrs. Isabella Fogg
He was forwarded to a hospital in Baltimore.  Anxiety triumphed over thoughts of philanthropy.  Passing over the great pontoon bridge, they were sorry.  Protected from the burning midsummer sun their plans were cut short by the culmination of the campaign.  They had started but were coming back.  There was so much suffering that could have been saved.  He was killed by a shell which burst immediately over their heads.  The work was found to be proportionately large.  It was a sight demanding the tears and prayers of the universe.  She was long preserved in health and strength.
Wide indeed and white for harvest, the wrecks of the campaign were broken up, repeated in a tone sterner and more imperative than before.  Spotted fever appeared in the hospital and much alarm existed.  They began to see the fearful price with which they were to be redeemed.  He forced his way across the river.  He gave a moving account of the sufferings of his comrades.  In most cases they were to have only the simplest of diets.  Labors and exposures like these could hardly be continued through that gloomy winter.  She crept into an occupied corner to obtain an hour of sleep.
She started with an ambulance filled with necessary stores.  She was ignorant whether her son might not be stiff on the battlefield or stretched on an amputation table.  She happened to meet a delegate of the Christian Commission.  They found the old, war-blasted city one great hospital.  He gave a moving account of the sufferings of his comrades at the extreme front.  Their tearful gratitude was a reward and stimulus which dispelled the thought of a broad and unbroken stream of the wounded and the sick pouring steadily to the rear from the active front.  He was “determined to fight it out on that line, if it took all summer.”  She was greatly exhausted by the long journey and the deep anxiety.  She was daily solaced, penetrated with deep gratitude to God.
She obtained letters from him and prominent citizens.  No such exclusive charity passes unnoticed the needy soldiers wherever they may be found.  The winter promised to be one of great activity.  All who could walk or crawl were leaving for the rear.  She took a team and made an extensive circuit among the farmers.  It was a sight in its enormous woes.  While laboring on a hospital boat she stepped through an unseen opening in the deck and received very serious and permanent injuries.
Fires were made and large quantities of palatable food prepared.  Her sanitary labors were interrupted for several weeks, until the sun and winds of April had dried the deep mud of Virginia.  They languished under bare shelter tents, entirely dependent on their rations.  She earned the blessing of many who were ready to perish.  The day following, all plans were cut short by the rapid and disastrous culmination of the campaign.  She protected herself from sunstroke by a wet towel, worn in her hat.  Innumerable woes and horrors of war now crowded about.  She was constant in her devotion to the patients.  One great, bloody cargo of suffering humanity was brought in.  A mingled cry of agony and of shame spread through the land.  The country was full of sick, and wounded, and stragglers.  They confidently expected that the great army would enter in a few days and march through the streets.  She witnessed a brave but unavailing attempt as she advanced with the army into Virginia.  She refreshed with cordials mouths parched with fever.  He wrote out words of final and touching farewell to the loved ones at home.  People who could ameliorate suffering and make themselves useful at such time came in great numbers from the adjacent cities.  She saw the great movement inaugurated by the new commander of the army.  The close of the war found her a permanent invalid among strangers.


9. What They Did at Gettysburg
He thought of planting his defiant banner on the battle mound.  For the vast multitude of sufferers the work to be done was stupendous.  There was no shade on the battlefield.  They were seeking no reward but an approving conscience.  Their labors continued for four months.  Things were broken up.  She is now in a far distant hospital.  All the big wheels of the concern went round.  They left the hospital tents for the battlefields.  The railroad bridge had not been rebuilt yet.  Where the fences were down and the ground tossed up, no one was there to help the poor souls due to the delays in transporting the wounded.  This was the way the thing was managed at first.  Many of them were too weak to reach the train in time.  All his remaining stock of strength was expended.  Some of the milk and fresh bread spoiled.  When would this cruel war be over?  
A poor dying boy, too ill to bear the journey, till the journey ended, lying on the floor of the car, simply wrapped in blankets, said to her:  “Hallo!  This is a pleasant way to meet — isn’t it?”  He disappeared rapidly among them.
In clean beds and comportable rows they lay, comparing colors, smiling all over, ready for supper.  They literally begged their bread from door to door.  All for love, nothing for reward.  One night she forced a reluctant confession out of her hostess.  She couldn’t let an old lady sleep on the floor.  The men who shouldered muskets a week before were lying underground now.
He wanted nothing said.  He sang hymns in his father’s church.  He was looking at someone a great way off.  They were grateful for every little thing.  They listened for an hour while they sang.  They politely made way for each other.  She had never seen anything as beautiful as that before.  They could not provide for mistakes and delays.  He had been crazy before the war, but not for two years now, he said.  That same night they had in their tent two fathers with their wounded sons.  The whole thing was a great success.  The men came in slowly at the last.  The last man was made comfortable.  Here she stood while great holes were made by shot and shell in the room she was working.
Acts of kindness and self-denial are almost entirely confined to women. They roared with laughter at him.  He hadn’t had his wound so well dressed since he was hurt.  Often they were in a most shocking state.  Hundreds of fellows hobbled along as well as they could.  Close by the barn, a rebel soldier was found sitting dead.  The sun smote fierce on the torn and dusty landscape.  For three days they dashed against their long gray lines.  They moved sullenly away, defeated.  His effort to get away was useless.  She put her hand on the lieutenant’s heart to find it still!  There was nothing for them, if too late for the cars, except the open field and hunger  They never heard a complaint.  This was certainly not in their minds when they packed their barrels and boxes.  Disgust and horror gave place to the kindest feeling.  The churches were filled with men dying with thoughts of the old home far away.  He had not been able to eat for days, his comrades said.  His brother was wounded and a prisoner too.
She found her doing the best with very little.  Mere scraps of boys amused themselves with percussion caps and hammers.  Her bed was given up that night to some other stranger.  She fed and sheltered them just when no one else would have done so.  They happened to be on hand at the right moment.  Long, forced marches grew longer and more strenuous.  There was no help or cheer of any kind.  The last carload of mutilated men took its departure. These poor fellows belonged to no one.  How lucky they felt themselves.  They were obliged to live on what the empty town could provide.
It was too late for tears.  They carried him off to a little room.  Very little care was taken of these poor men.  The heavy work of the day was over.  All night his brother lay close against the coffin.  They started them on their journey the next morning.  They all worked devotedly.  He had long ride before him.  The good thick soup came.  The neighbors ran into their cellars.  It kind of gave one life.  She wanted to conduce to comfort, assuage pain, or lift and illuminate the ever-deepening shadow that covered them.  


10.  Mary W. Lee
The face and figure that moved about, opportunity favored her.  The mutilated wreck that was brought pushed forward, determined not to be outdone entirely.  He marched back to the front.  She was merged in admiration.  She grew calm and cheerful.  In a deserted cabin they found two boys.  Her light was gone out.  Many a face was tortured with pain.  A little sack of corn meal saved his life.  Men would hobble in on crutches.  Her duties were laborious, and vexatious.  She joined in the general delight by waving her towel as a flag.
He refused to take anything containing alcohol. As soon as the cannon smoke had cleared away from the blood-stained hillside, for three months following the great battle, struck in a vital part, he fell, yet held the flag up.  While endeavoring to meet the urgent calls of their wronged country, he had the misfortune to be wounded.  A home-like air surrounded the hospital.  She found an old stove, dilapidated indeed, and rusty.  She must have broken down under her long-continued labors and sleeplessness.  He was no better than any other soldier.  He arrived safely home, only with a broken heart.  He asked for her kindness.  She would never again hear his joyous laugh.
It was fit that she should be present at the happy consummation, rich in the consciousness of having given herself up entirely to the exercise of heavenly charity.  He wished she would step in and see everything arranged.  He commended her to the highest position a woman could fill.  She promised to look after him.  He could thing of no better title than friend to address her by.  She went to see if some poor fellow had not been overlooked.  Her tears fell fast on the coverlet.  The first and great clamor was for food.  They all waited in mute and touching patience.  She prepared for the awful scenes that were to follow with the coolness and judgment of a veteran.  She was thinking of her own darling son.   She unsealed the fountains of old grief.  In death his pale young face wore a smile.   She received the painful intelligence the day he went into the hospital, but the cough hung on, as it always does.  Such a time!  The people nearly went crazy.
A pleasant voice rose from one of the cots.  Strong hopes were entertained that he might recover.  She saw the dead soldier in his coffin, and sympathized with the mother.  While they were thus occupied, she heard with alarm the great explosion.  There was no hope of his getting over it.  She displayed a genius for cooking under all the disadvantages of camp life.  It was their turn to be taken up and cared for.  She could not look at them without shedding tears.  They came in with clothes stiff with gore.  Her unwearied activity was a subject of universal comment.  


11.  Miss Major Pauline Cushman
The interview gave our heroine a light-hearted idea.  He was a cast-iron rebel.  A sharp skirmish of cross-questions followed.  The ruffian gazed on her a moment with a savage gleam in his eye.  All the loyal persons present were at once mortified and indignant.  They had the desire to make a foolish and ill-timed parade of sentiment.
She felt that she would soon be well enough to be hung.  He knew what went on at their headquarters better than the clerks there.  Sometime before, she had seen the great marauder under circumstances very different.  
He was a hero of the card-table and the bowie-knife.  All eyes riveted on her graceful acting.  The charms of her person and the impressiveness of her manners drew her irresistibly to the stage.
She was afterwards commonly known by the rank and title of major.  She didn’t think she’d be either useful or ornamental dangling at the end of a rope.  Her woman’s wit enabled her to spring a doubt in the mind of the cautious desperado.  He was truly profuse in his generosity.  Within a few days, she was able to collect many important items of information.  It occurred to her that here was an admirable opportunity to serve her country. 
There were signs of sudden commotion. She had important papers in her possession.  Then his admiration for her pluck got the better of his temper.  He’s never been there before.  After serious consideration he received her proposition.  It sounded like some tale of romance.
The joyous sound of the bugles reached her room.  He was without kindness or humanity.  Her hair had been dressed by the prison barber.  He knew all the roads, and all the bridle paths and even the hog paths.  For a time the run of her good fortune was changed.  Her histrionic success continued. Then she was found guilty and condemned.  She was of French and Spanish descent.  The boot was on the other foot now.  Indignant scorn flashed from her black eyes.  He gave her the most minute instructions.  It satisfied her own love of romance and wild adventure.  She dared him to repeat the assertion.  He was really glad to see her.  She told him to root the whole thing up if he liked.  One night she stopped at the house of a farmer.  She was a brilliant and impulsive being.


12.  Mrs. John Harris
Before the blood commenced to flow, rain was falling fast.  A crown or a wreath had been worn down.  The heavy tread of men had been crushed under the iron wheel of war.  After untold sufferings the vapor from their clothing was swelled.  A dismal place, full of corpses, was cherished and linked as they looked upon the pains, in a sad state already.  Swiftly following bloody engagements were threatening all who ventured near.  A spectacle of sickening horror, objects of loathing, suffering of the most fearful character.
She was full of work and sorrow.  Thousands of them were still naked and starving.  They were obliged to resort to the main building.  He finally died in full faith.  The only dwelling near, after a most exhausting day, surrounded by every luxury the world could possess, directed the attention of the government to the destitution and suffering.  With unabated zeal and devotion, with a dim light near, to a frightful degree she was thrown into this camp to die.
Full of joy were they to the soldiers suffering from cold and sickness.  Her own hands often were wet and cold.  Her eyes have fallen on scenes out of harmony with their holy uses.  Something to keep the powers of life in action, how completely their time was filled up!  The rustle of the old relief, the appearance of things that all knew to be impending, the homely science pressed upon her mind.  A signal of distress called forth her sympathy.  The ranks of these sick braves were divided into bitter factions.  After herding together indiscriminately they looked comical.  The patient who sinks, ghastly smiles, jabbering, in a few days fills a government coffin.  They found homes from which they will never be driven.  He had not where to lay his head.  No words can describe the condition.  He felt vexed when the bullet struck him, half way up the hill.  An unspeakable blessing and comfort to those who languished without hope, the warp and woof of the soldier’s life, only holy zeal could sustain.  The life-blood of the army was poured, often rolling in their helplessness in a long procession.
She saw their poor mutilated limbs.  What untold anguish they bespoke!  Slow and inadequate remedies were applied.  The sadness of the parting was for a time too big for utterance.  It fell upon her heart, then he burst into tears.  Stretched out in every direction, the love of home and thoughtful care of mothers strengthened.  The defined form was covered over with a blanket.  Manifested most touchingly, it might cause the general pulse of life to stand still.  The next sun threw its rays on a busy landscape before her.  From these places of imagined safety, he was taken insensible to the operating table.  Words seemed too cheap to give.  She whispered a verse of scripture in his ear.  There he lay, unconscious, in the grasp of a monster.
Many must die.  She had gruel bubbling for the boys.  She was dabbled in the mingled blood of Federal and Confederate soldiers.  Freighted with suffering, with wonderful firmness she went into that dismal place.  Her throbbing heart was close to its Maker.  Sacred impressions as the ponderous military machine made adjustments, sacred and touching memories, the sacrifice atones for all!
The European systems needed important modifications.  The principal theater of the strife, as such they could look upon the pains, thrilled with anguish.  Every garment was saturated, soothing patients, and the birds were joyous and busy for they had been brought to see the king of terrors face to face, in the dark night.  Strangely poised upon a fence, there in the raw March wind they all knew it to be impending nearer to the great eternity that shuts out all sounds of war.  A ragged little child turned her dying eyes on her.  The wretched victims of malignity glided back to the life of quiet duty and passive endurance.  She labored the longest.  Memories make few complaints, however.  The mists of the valley were settling over them.  He was not sure he was on the right foundation.  He was struggling with the last great enemy.  Under the trees in the rear of the carnage, they would not be tender.  Now lying down to rest, whose heart had throbbed healthfully with loving thoughts, after a time he grew calm.  He had been worn down and was coiled upon the floor.  She thought of the cold weather of the past week, each receiving in his tin cup a wholesome and stimulating preparation.  A wide-spread sympathy for those whose wounds had just reached the point where the slightest motion was agony, he left to plead with God.  Still naked and starving, great numbers were drowned by the sudden rising of the waters.  The glare of the sun unbroken by any friendly shade in the devastated fields, that large class of the miserably poor could only look and wonder.  Deeply engraved on their poor, wan faces, she brightened the pathway along which she moved with heavenly approval.  


13.  Miss Mary E. Shelton
They wanted to capture Richmond.  There was a sum no human method can every express.  Remote from the centers of supply, led by a population warm in its loyalty, they started out to steal.  They went all around the ground.  The flowers did their good work.  There came to her a bright thought.  The bitter results of the great war were then at their height.  He begged that he might spend his last days at home.  They were in great perplexity.  They found one poor soldier almost wasted to a skeleton.  He seemed past all feeling.  Tears in streams came to his eyes and convulsed his whole frame in sobs.  He seemed very impatient to say a word.  He felt himself slowly sinking into the grave.
The men were not forgotten by the friends at home.  He had been deprived of the only thing he had wanted for months.  They spoke words of sympathy and kindness to the brave sufferers.  So many brave men had sealed their devotion with blood.  She put a cold cloth on his aching head.  In each one carried out they saw their fate.  She was deadly pale and she hastened to reassure her.  She bounded from her, both crying and laughing at the same time.  He left one leg in a southern grave.  Long months of untold suffering rose before them.  Ministering to the suffering filled their hearts with a melody before unknown.  She could not fail to see pale faces, full of weary longing, looking forth.  Hunger and sickness take all fortitude out of a man.  He covered his head in the bedclothes and wept.
They hoped for a speedy removal to a more salubrious air.  In low places, the stumps were still standing.  For weeks “Death held his carnival.”  Her nervous system seemed quite exhausted.  His tears fell on her clasped hands.  The nurses carried him out head foremost.  Those who have left their own dear dust to be mingled with strangers’, alone can realize the depth of her woe.
She aroused the people to renewed activity.  Her attention was attracted by a pair of bright eyes.  She placed the glass to his burning lips.  Wounds and suffering had weakened his body and mind alike.  He clenched his nails into the palm of his hand.  The strong man was a child again, crying helplessly for “Mother.”  Her door was thrown unceremoniously open.  She prepared a stimulating drink for him.  The good fight of faith had been his, but the disease had undermined the frail structure.  He sank beneath the hardships of camp life.  Who could refuse such a request from a dying child?
Great is the nausea caused by impure air.  The grave was so shallow, she asked them to dig it deeper.  They were startled by hearing a heavy fall on the pavement.  Shouts of praise, cursing, raving, shrieks, fiendish laughs, growls like an enraged animal, followed each other in quick succession.  He was “frightened out of his senses.”  The smell of the wounds made her sick and faint.  A sharp cry of pain startled her.  Her face was colorless, and her eyes had a sunken, sickly look.


14.  Carrie Sheads
The morning was ushered in by the heavy  boom of artillery.  It was a gorgeous but bloody panorama that surrounded her.  The colonel was of the same temper as his sword.  They suffered annoyance by having the battle at their threshold.  They obstinately contested every inch of ground.  They continued to pour murderous volleys into the helpless ranks.
Many idle and groundless rumors of the rebel advance reached the village.   It was a time of active and invasive warfare.  The hills had been familiar to many of them from boyhood.  Miss Sheads and her little flock continued unterrified in the midst of the awful cannonade.  He went into the basement to rest himself, for he was thoroughly exhausted.  She pleaded with him not to be so rash.  He felt those profound emotions which only a soldier can understand.  He had been in close places before.  The dead hero had left his own gallant and self-devoting spirit in the breasts of his men.  They were little dreaming how soon or how fiercely the storm would burst around them.  Yet it remained secure in the grip of the Federal army.
The colonel opened the door and asked for a large white cloth.  They watched the magnificent yet fearful sight.  He received wounds which made him an invalid for life.  Many of them met a terrible death.  He had promised to guard it sacredly.  He was standing in a vortex of fire.  He hoped to force a passage through the walls of steel which were closing in on him.  She met the terrible demands of the hour with the calmness of a heroine amid the roar and crash of battle.  He won for himself new laurels.  She seized the favorable opportunity with admirable presence of mind.  That noble calmness in danger stamps the character with an air of true nobility.


15.  Mrs. Stephen Barker
Only in the strife of strong passions come to the light of day, shattered and bleeding, who rose from their beds where they languished, amid the pressing demands which showed a wonderful advance due mainly to the warmth of devotion, in the broad field thus opened there was scope and verve, life to be saved, by every class of talent, across a rapid river or over a rugged mountain, beside the cots of the sufferers, speaking pleasant words of cheer to those beyond the reach of human medicine, to see that no neglect or abuse sprang up, or lavished on those who were hopelessly depraved to serve base ends, which good clear sense at once recommends itself.
Without consent or confidence nothing can be done.  Through ignorance or carelessness, it was more than she had hoped for needed for an engrossing and useful work.  Mainly occupied, she became thoroughly identified. Frequently asked in jest as she read aloud to the poor fellows who lay suffering, the real source of their comforts, to complete the circle in all she thought needful as she went along by constant and systematic labor.  Loaded with a great variety of articles, plunged into one after another of these bloody battles, surely the partiality was venial if she lingered a little longer over the labors of an increasing correspondence engaged in a special home service.
She mingled socially, hastening their convalescence with clothes less ragged and soiled, sick and worn down with protracted fatigues, for the benefit of these noble fellows for a time suspended, their wants supplied.


16. Mrs. Belle Reynolds
The gunboats, with their dark, frowning sides, steamed up the river.  Blooming orchards met the eye.  They heard a splash.  Distant musketry gave the situation a look of reality.  Suddenly, a new light crept up the sky.  The toxin of war penetrated to the cottage where young married life was settled.  There is constant suspense, constant anxiety even in sleep.  A duty, most tender and sacred, having everything to live for, was haunted with visions of terror and sorrow.
Her boudoir was thin and often dirty.  Her feet were imbedded in the hot sand.  The hours glided by unnoticed.  Grotesque figures standing out in bold relief made her forget the lapse of time.  A heavy fog rising from the river saturated her thick wrappings.  The aboriginal woods were festooned with a beautiful tracery of wild vines.  She dared not look too closely.  Some mother’s heart will be wrung with agony when she reads of the victory.
They were pouring along by thousands, fresh and hopeful.  They were by this time convinced of their close proximity.  They stopped, took off their bonnets and prepared to assist.  Soon the rain came pouring down.  They were tokens of remembrance.  Night closed the scene.  They would listen to the explosions and shout for joy.  The way was strewn with dead and dying.  They came to an old cabin where the wounded were being brought.  She closed her eyes and saw such horrible sights that she would spring from her bed.  She loathed their burning wounds and powder-stained faces.  They sank to sleep like weary children.  Each parting seemed harder than the last.
They escaped the tedium of the march.  She sat down to meditate on her forlorn condition.  A cold wind was blowing over the bleak hillside.  His reverie was broken by a question.  She was soon insensible to all that was passing.
An immense beacon-fire threw a clear and brilliant light.  Her time passed very pleasantly in the customary gayeties of the camp.  Suddenly they saw a light in the sky, and dense white smoke rising.  She thought her best friend would fail to recognize her in her ludicrous and forlorn appearance.  A charming spot was dotted with bowers of roses.  They quietly floated down with the current.  There was a breathless silence.  Her horse was plunging and leaping.
They held him to earth by strong bands.  She regained her health slowly.  To the wounded sufferers it seemed more than they could endure.  The motion of the boat was exquisite torture.  She bade them goodbye, some of them forever.  He closed his eyes, and died without a struggle.  These scenes came up before her with all the vivid intensity of the reality.  At every breath his life-blood gushed from the wound in his breast.  She knew it was no dream.  The surgeon would wield over his wretched victim the glittering knife and saw.
A hand was laid on her shoulder.  It was no time for many words.  His breathing was of that horrible sort which once heard is never forgotten.  Soon the severed and ghastly limb, white as snow and spattered with blood, would fall upon the floor: one more added to the terrible pile.  She stepped to the door, and called for volunteers.  She was anxious to make the best of everything.
Deliverance came to the disheartened army.  The alternative was before them.  He was almost fainting from loss of blood.  Resistance to the infuriated masses was impossible.  He guarded the gangplank with a revolver in each hand.  Fresh courage seemed infused into their dispirited ranks.  Panic seized the half-crazed men.  Both arms were broken.  The sight was one never to be forgotten.  A wheel dropped off and went to the bottom.  A dreary town they found there — a scene of perfect desolation.  Her army life is crowded with many such reminiscences.


17.  Mrs. Charlotte E. McKay
The facts of personal history that led to his first and last march:  
To soothe the pain of bitter bereavement, the rain seemed to beat on their naked hearts, often broken by anxiety, yet cheerful, sometimes jolly, and always grateful that it was no worse.  His keen eye seemed to take in everything.  Nothing could be seen of them now but a long line of flashing bayonets as they came out of the shadow of the hill, but the effort seemed soon to exhaust itself, not withstanding the panic that prevailed in the neighborhood.
One seemed to bring home nearer.  The slightest jar could snap the thread.  They were all caught in a nice trap.  Sleep was driven away by the continual tramp of troops.  A slender hold she had on life, riding in an ambulance, carried out on a stretcher, as they paced their beat.  They rushed to meet them, take them by the hand, lead them into the house.  By degrees it improved and assumed a comfortable and even cheerful appearance.  It was a short walk over the plain when her attention was arrested by a little scene which formed a picture in her memory never to be effaced.  You would think you were entering a natural forest!  There were exhibited the ghastly spectacles of war.  After some delay and difficulty, on a pile of forage, greatly increased by the absurd red tape-ism of some officials who threw all obstacles in her way, full of life and energy, in splendid uniform, a procession as long as the eye could take in at once, whose kindred were far way, stiffened with the frosts of death.
She had packed a box containing a large number of useful items.  The same variety and blending of motive were found, uncertain as to what fate they might be consigned, a miserable band, sometimes in one disguise, and sometimes in another, advancing on the city, winding around the hills.  They heard the tramp of their horses, they whose graves were marked by simple headboards.  The contest seemed to have changed its principles.  Great battle followed great battle with appalling frequency.  Many incidents occurred which illustrated the swift vicissitudes of war.  He lay writhing in pain.  It was a desolate region, for the weather, which was fine, was changing, and ominous gusts of winds forced themselves on their attention.
 

18.  The Bloody Flag at Fort Pillow
Dark and damning was the act.  The ramparts all around bristled with heavy guns.  A deed of savage bloodshed was enacted.  He plunged into the seething gulf of civil strife.  A high and firm resolve burned in many a dark eye.  The scene was one the memory of which can never pass from before their eyes.  He was an unequalled horseman insensible to fatigue.  Meantime the enemy forces had been advanced furtively.
The name of Fort Pillow stands out in lurid relief.  What wreck of war was this?  He was the last and most revolting specimen of that style of man.  The heart sickens and turns away in loathing from the horrid recital.  The river rolls thus grandly to the far-off ocean.
This was always with him a favorite ranging ground.  He rose by a series of almost unbroken successes.  A relentless and indiscriminate butchery then followed of all ages, both sexes, and without reference to rank or color.  He saw his comrades wounded in the bloody struggle.  A lady in deepest mourning stepped forward in front of the survivors.  The stormy background of a great war stamped with perpetual infamy these great crimes against humanity.  A waif floated on the stormy ocean.  Many a brave face with moistening eye and quivering lip showed how the sight of the bereaved woman affected them.  The whole line fell upon their knees and solemnly appealed to the god of battles.
The hostilities were suspended for near an hour.  Soon after daylight the fight began again.  He received from her hand the war-worn flag.  Some were pinned to the ground and burned.  The silence was broken only by the hoarse roar of the river.  She started to address them in a low voice sometimes broken with heaves of sorrow.
They were stabbed and beaten when wounded.  They now surrounded the fort on three sides.  A joy that only the depraved know was raising the cry of “No quarter!”  It was no holiday presentation, no crowning of a May-queen.  It was relieved by the heroic words of a brave, though heart-broken woman.  It should be received as such a gift ought to be received.

 
19.  Mrs. Mary Morris Husband
They distinguished themselves by their zeal, their courage and their public spirit.  She was prompted by the natural kindness of her heart.  She spent two or three weeks in scenes of horror and agony.  Never for a moment did she lose her perfect cheerfulness of temper.
She did not mourn for him because he was willing and ready to die.  She saw that no sleepy nurse neglected to properly care for them.  It was a time of uncertainty and disaster.  He was naturally low in spirits.  They were in the full tide of their invasion.  A very painful and alarming instance occurred in the circle of her friends.  She finally got the ear of that great, kind-hearted, patient president.  She found the unfortunate youth of such mental capacity that execution would have been judicial murder.  He saw through his tent a bright light.  She amused and entertained a couple of convalescents.  She stopped now and then to stir fruit which she was stewing.  She eventually resumed her old and favorite line of usefulness.  He felt his hopes rise whenever she approached his cot.  She followed up the march of their armies on her ministry of love.  Her cabinet abounded in trophies, rings, bullets, guns, swords, mementos, pictures, photographs.  She had rich memories of those years crowded with great events.  When she said “Give,” a hundred purses were opened.
She was full of generous admiration for those who suffered so much.  A generous people sent her to the weary, the foot-sore and voracious boys.  She underwent all the hardships of a camp life.  She made herself a great apron with a row of deep pockets.  Somewhere in those gloomy and intricate pine forests a noble hero fell.  She walked a mile and a half to tell him all was going well.  The wind sprang up and fairly drove her out.  The boy had no clear knowledge of the duty of a soldier.  She was met with a little coldness on the part of the executive.  She had important advantages in her favor.  Others were seen tearing off the dressing of their wounds.  A long interval occurred before his health was confirmed.  Not yet discouraged she resolved to make one last attempt.
A sick man’s brain continually conjures up a thousand complaints.  She never seemed to care for her own comfort.  They felt her soothing presence by their bedsides.  She did the very things that others had left undone.  The demands of a bleeding and endangered country were brought home as never before.  Only a circumstance committed her to uncommon labor and constant self-sacrifice.


20.  Mrs. E. E. George
She feared her character as a representative of Indiana would be lost.  Suddenly her system gave way, and she was pronounced severely ill with typhoid fever.  Upon his return, what was his astonishment to find his patient a corpse!
They received the skeleton wrecks of the armies that came out alive.  She engaged never to be at all troublesome or in the way.  They were constantly informed in regard to the positions of great destitution.  She had reached that period of life which suggests the quiet of the fireside.  It was a rude, changeful and wearing succession of exhausting toils.  She acted as though fear of death was a passion that had no place in her calm mind.  She was awakened in a few hours by the moans of the wounded.  Their condition was in the last degree pitiable.  She looked upon it as simply the intention of Providence to test her courage.  Her motives won involuntary respect.  She traveled in a rough army wagon.  Two hundred lost their feet to frost.  She literally worked herself to death.  Her powers of endurance were quite exhausted.  The grasp of the disease had been deeper than they supposed.


21.  Anna Maria Ross
Her disposition was such she thought nothing accomplished so long as it remained undone.  Restless and anxious, regardless of fatigue, forgetting herself, she made deep inroads on the fund of her own life.  They received final discharge from all earthly service.  Then her exertions took a wider range.  In the morning the numbness was colder.
Her self-forgetting heart received some premonition of the change that awaited.  Tenderly and wakefully she passed from couch to couch.  The great cities near the border vied with each other.  War raged.  The hoarse voices of war were loud and most threatening.  The soldiers were brought tempestuously within their reach.  The work grew upon her hands.  The blood of her noble ancestors had molded bullets for Washington.  Inaugurated mainly by her exertions, it was at once her grave and monument before the sullen roar of war went jarring across the continent.  At the same time, private sorrows made their demands upon the large sympathies of her heart.  Thus she burnt the candle at each end.  She thought rest would restore her.  She hurried forward to the field.
They met the flushed enemy, with their great host of wounded.  After his death, she met to condole with the bereaved family.  Now her pure spirit is released from its toil-worn frame.  In the heat and depth of the conflict before the blessed dawn-light, her tender hands are moldering in the long rest of the grave.


22.  Mrs. A. H. Hoge
Some could be found bending over hospital cots, wiping clammy foreheads, soothing feverish fantasies, writing messages of love and hope to distant homes.  She moved brilliantly in the noble career of public usefulness.  She commenced a life wholly in contrast with her domestic seclusion.  Their object was to stimulate to fresh industry and larger generosity.
They commenced their operations on a larger plan than anything before attempted.  She had correctly estimated the strength of the general sympathy. They refreshed the languid frames of the mangled inmates.  They were pinned to the earth with bayonets and left writhing like worms to die by inches.  Her face was bronzed and deeply lined.  The divine influence overcame his struggling heart.  He drew the soiled blanket over his once neat collar and neck-tie.  They were longing for the precious casket of their jewel to lay it to rest under the old willow tree.
Not one applied whose appearance was not a complete certificate of his necessity.  He covered his pinched face with his thin hands, and burst into a low, sobbing cry.  She was glad to have his strong arm to lean upon, as she ascended the hill.  In the dim twilight her quick woman’s eye read something.  He was soon lost among the white tents of the encampment.  The splintered fragments were removed.  He lay a woeful spectacle, not able to speak intelligibly.  They made furious attacks up the steep declivities in the teeth of bristling fortifications ensconced like conies in the rocks.  There they were crouching like beasts of prey, enduring the heat of a vertical sun.  She stood behind a rude litter of boughs.  A gray-haired soldier lay face downward.  Each man drew forth his irresistible daguerreotype, and held it for her to look at.  Three cheers for the women at home, and a grasp of multitudes of hard, honest hands echoed through the valley as they stood within sight of the greensward that had been reddened with blood.
He was as noble a specimen of vigorous manhood as she had ever looked upon.  She shrank from his eager gaze.  After a touching farewell, she stepped into the ambulance.  She looked in sadness for many familiar faces.  She could only hear an occasional sob, and feel solemn silence.  A picturesque panorama of the army below obliterated all sense of personal danger.  They entered in and took possession.  Sharp-shooters who fringed the hilltops poured their murderous fire into the advancing ranks.
The constant woman’s face beamed with joy.   Everything on the table was nutritious and appetizing.  The golden purple had faded from the clouds.  She was waiting for him on the very spot where they had pledged their troth.  The words home, wife, mother, always brought cheers and tears.  He felt like he’d turned the corner.  “Shall I give you an onion?” she asked.  Guerrillas constantly threatened their boat.  They cherished hopes of his early recovery. In the silence that followed, the low voice of a noble woman was heard in prayer.  She sank in her chair and became the rigid impersonation of agony.  His sunny brow grew dark.  He was bandaged like a mummy and couldn’t move a limb.  She was an experienced adviser in all matters connected with sanitary labor.  They saw the Mississippi running free to the sea.  They took on the Herculean enterprise of keeping the shelves filled.
They wanted to make human bondage perpetual in the nation.  There was none who would not assign her a high position.  She had no covering from the dews of heaven but a brown army blanket.  A great number of persons heard her plead the cause of the suffering volunteer.  She was inspired by the irresistible flood of enthusiasm which swept over the community.  She often read them a narrative of the experience she had enjoyed among the soldiers.  She remained many days, and sometimes weeks, dispensing the supplies she had collected.  She took a slow and solemn walk through the congregation of suffering humanity.  Men with voices so weak that they sounded like children’s helped to swell the sound.  She pointed her attenuated finger at the senseless boy. 
The steamer on which they had their headquarters was tied up for the night.  She thought she had never seen a finer face.  Stories of sickness and suffering reached their ears.  That always brought the gushing tears.  He came from his father’s farm, where all knew plenty.  It required but a moment to gather a large audience.  The color faded from her cheek.  She said she would rather be a widow than another man’s bride.  She knew every man by name, as by intuition.  What they got every day came from the same place.  They were mowed down as wheat before the sickle.  She felt the heat stifling as she bent to avoid the whizzing minies.  She peeped again and again through the loopholes.  Mute memorials of home proved the talisman of many a tempted heart.  They all agreed in one respect, that she looked like an angel.  With great alacrity the man in charge ran into an adjoining tent.  She sat beside him till his consciousness was gone.  It was difficult to realize he was entering the portals of eternity.  How soiled and tattered and rent and faded it looked.  They talked of her visit for months to come.  Almost every hand was raised to brush away the tears.  She sang on, with moistened eyes.  She answered questions implying doubt of success with a scornful laugh.  The vacant places of the fallen were instantly filled.  They looked so bright and happy, she thought they must be shamming.  For the first time in months he had a touch of homesickness.  She laid her hand upon his shoulder.  Nevertheless he felt he must go on.  She believed there did not exist a more noble, brave, enduring race of men.  He suffered much and long, and it unmanned him.
Alas, the need was great.  The river was high, the weather miserably rainy and depressing.  He had to be carefully nursed before they could place him in his mother’s care.  Now she was afraid he was going to die.  With a sudden impulse that electrified her, her dry eyes seemed to start from their sockets.
Every movement was torture.  They called this boy their miracle.  The influence of her example and eloquence were made to bear upon the cause.  She stood at the bedside of more than a hundred thousand sick or wounded patriot soldiers.  On a plan commensurate with the vastness of the scale with which the war was conducted, she showed an earnestness and a zeal not unworthy of the priceless interest which it involved.  The conviction was general that the war would not be protracted.  She was widely known, profoundly respected, and deeply loved.  She brought to the altar of her country rare gifts, splendid social powers, and the fascination of a noble winning presence.


23.  Miss Emily W. Dana
The slow torture was ended.  She found a new patient in one of the cots that she was accustomed to visit.  Moving skeletons they were, or shriveled mummies they seemed.  It was touching to see the tenderness with which the strong, bearded soldier nursed his dying friend.  She regarded the whole of her experience there, though in the midst of agony, by far the richest of her life.
No language can be too graphic to depict the appearance of those miserable groups.  They had stepped across the threshold full of vigor.  She made their slow march to the grave less gloomy and appalling.  Death at last ended the melancholy scene.  He wondered what he had ever done that he should suffer so.  Suitable food seasoned with cheerful talk suggested the hopes of social and refined existence.  Their longing eyes watched each mouthful and every morsel of a healthier neighbor’s food.  He drew one deep sigh that seemed loaded with the agony of the long months of pain he had suffered.  It was evident that he had entered the army fresh from the fine and pure enthusiasms of classic culture.  At last, his reason gave way.  He raised himself with a painful and nervous energy.  A day or two proved the poor boy knew best.  His great blue eyes, with their dilated pupils, pleaded even more earnestly than words.  There was yet a something about this man that changed the atmosphere of the whole ward.  The poor body was fearfully racked and emaciated.  No matter — she rarely heard a word of repining or regret.  She saw many cases of the most profound and touching interest.  He silently measured and fathomed all.  The suffering of war appealed directly and feelingly to her sympathizing heart.


24.  Mrs. S. Burger Stearns
A few could be named.  She was in readiness to attend upon them.  In no previous war as an example of the generosity of the people were tons and tons of delicacies constantly forwarded.  They recommended these magnificent systems.  A new and peculiar class was demanded.  They accomplished their benign results.  There was much skepticism.  They were too much occupied with their duties.  
Her heart was wholly enlisted in the work.  She fully appreciated the soldiers’ brave devotion.  She listened for an hour.  She spoke effectively to a promiscuous audience.  She became familiar with the wants of the soldier.  She took upon herself the task of rousing the indifferent.  She was not regarded as unsexing herself.  There was no pecuniary recompense for her labors.  It was a joy to her.
The proper sphere of women had been enlarged.  She presented reasons that flowed from the fountains of charity.  She made special efforts.  Without stepping out of her true sphere, in behalf of suffering humanity she was indefatigable, ignorant of the system upon which they operated. 


25.  Mrs. Harriet W. F. Hawley & Miss Maria M. C. Hall
He at once lay down his pen and enlisted for war.  She labored in the work of equipping soldiers.  To add to the horrors of her ward, those attacked died rapidly.  Thither she followed him shortly.  They had done all in their power.  Cramped by long sitting in one position, their feet rotted off!  They got possession for a little time, which for a long time made their life doubtful.  Of course, they brought jail fever with them.  They were reduced to idiocy.  They were shamefully neglected for many months.  She cried like a child when she heard them.  The poor wretches much be housed and fed.  Another, whose name she could not recall, was still very low.
They were lying on straw spread on the floor.  She had already so much sad experience.  Such a conglomeration crowded into the little city, taxing her innermost strength, who arrived by boats from below with singular regularity. Frequently as her strength would permit, one of the most arduous places of labor in the country, subject to malarial diseases, with a slight frame, she seemed unfitted to endure hardships.
They had discarded the old love of national union.  No community was more agitated.  Amid the stirring and historic associations, in the enthusiasm of a spirit naturally strong, with the dignity of a matron, day after day with dirtied hands her pure spirit walked through a shadow land.  They felt more determined.  She planned for herself a course of action.  At length the kind-hearted woman yielded to the wishes of the noble girl.  There was a disposition very much to disparage.  But they were sufficiently advanced in years.
Her whole nervous system sustained an almost irreparable shock.  They were distracted and assailed by new dangers.  One of her first experiences was quite touching.  His eyes were fixed directly on the ceiling.  He thought it had done him good.  With beaming face and tears in his eyes, one poor fellow sickened and died.  As night closed over the confused and bloody field, she recollected the peculiarities of every case.  They seemed to have come from some strange outer world of dimness and groans.  The effect on the bad was to make them worse.
Into another field of labor her sympathies were strongly enlisted.  Among the many thousands who labored in the field, a little famished boy never forgot her.  


26.  Mrs. Governor Harvey
The thrill of horror pervaded, very beautiful to her, it became a visible and beneficent fact.  Not at all gay, but always cheerful, her earnestness was something extraordinary.  The story of her terrible affliction was known and entirely enwrapped and sufficient to establish her claim by the bedside of dying soldiers out of the depths of her own sorrow.  What her trial was no one can tell, fallen a martyr, yielded as before an irresistible force.
Rescued from the bad management of subordinate officers, a variety of qualifications so united were almost entirely changed.  The most innocent, most helpless had borne upon her the enjoyment of life’s gift.  Subdued but with no loss of latent energy, she compressed the work of a lifetime.


27.  Miss Amy M Bradley
God bless Dr. Hunt!  She had seen him before and worked with him among the wounded.  Each case differed.  Where such important changes are constantly taking place, it was difficult on that damp and chilling day.  The others were charged with desertion. The men were too feeble to stand in the cold.  It was preserved in a book, kept for the purpose to ascertain the actual condition.  Weary and ragged, poorly supplied with clothing, two or three cripples riding, so the little procession moved on. 
How glad they were to see her again!  They all enjoyed life as much as possible.  She brought a clear head and the same warm heart.  Sick for some time from excitement and over-exertion, devoted to the relief of orphans of soldiers, it appears her health was partially restored.   Soothing words brought the color again to his lips.  Amidst reproach, with tears running down her cheeks, the skin was neatly closed over the bone.
It was evident they failed daily.  Many others were not there.  They were not hostile but came on a friendly mission.  She brought a basin of cool water.  She had his advice and could do as she pleased.  In removing erroneous charges in many ways beyond ordinary experience, he in the most earnest manner recommended that tears must be choked back as these mutilated forms were carefully placed on those comfortable cots.  It illustrated to her the tragic and crowded days that lay ahead.  Long dreary weeks, she called them.
The doctors said mortification was taking place in the bowels.  A faint smile irradiated his countenance.  Another link bound her to the spirit world.  She greatly needed rest and a change of scene.  They showed the deep impression she made on them.  When the cruel war was over, she took a personal and vivid interest in a great number of the sick.  How strange it was that she should minister to him.  She noted the light which beamed in the faces of the sick ones.  It widened her sphere of influence.
A forlorn escort of broken-down soldiers — how sick they looked! — looked up with a lost expression.  She met their calls for aid.  Twilight found her safe, surrounded by old familiar faces.  She was fortunate in her associations.  There was no tedious waiting at a circumlocution office.  Trying to look as trim as they can, she lifted one white finger of her little hand.  A heavy and greasy old knapsack was lashed on top for the last time.  She always tried to accomplish her work by peaceful measures.  They stood until their turn came.  There was no nourishment that they could take that was suitable for sick men.  The surgeons let their patients languish.  She labored systematically and with effect.  Such labors were wholly gratuitous.  A lady gave her money to buy crutches.  It was eminently a place of discomfort. 


28.  Miss Rebecca R. Usher
They inquired of several surgeons.  It seemed as though they had brought him back from the grave.  When the old man arrived, a minie ball pierced his breast.  The poor boy crept off his cot and came slowly forward.  Very early in the struggle they held themselves in readiness.  The untold, immeasurable suffering required a special and direct system.  They returned with the cheering report.  The next day she joined her boy.
They did not seem alarming symptoms.  She said it was the hardest battle they had ever had.  Her cultivated mind added much to his happiness and lighted his days of toil.  In another conversation that took place, it never occurred to him that he had been spending the day with free Negroes.  They knew their money was worthless.  She left him to be instructed by the logic of events.
Their stockade was now all up and chinked.  The soldiers come in and ask for a potato.  The wards were dismal enough — long and narrow, dimly lighted.  Tomorrow they expected to build a chimney.  The vigor of his constitution carried him past the point of greatest danger.  He was hoping and praying he was not too late.  The hut in which she lived a life of excitements and hardship was crushed by a fragment of shell.  His bone had been terribly crushed.  His recovery depended on the most watchful attention.  Like Jacob, he lifted up his voice and wept.
His eyes grew moist again.  A long procession of boys came for what was found at the bottom of the pile.  The large building was appropriated as a hospital.  It had come under her notice in the hospital that he would sink almost to the verge of the grave.  His suffering depressed his spirits.  He wanted him to take charge of the plantation.  Yet towards white people no person could be more considerate or polite.  He was absent the greater part of the day.  They were startled by the sound of loud weeping in the hall.
They managed with utmost difficulty.  The next day she received a note from him.  She procured a coffin and sent him home.  She nursed his friend very anxiously.  She bent her ear close to his lips.  He looked into her face with a satisfied expression.  The supposition was that he was buried as an “unknown.”  It was the worst sight she ever saw.  The body was lashed to a horse.ww
She was too happy to sleep.  She was a noble woman and ought to live forever!


29.  Mother Byckerdyke & Mrs. Ann Hitz
Exerting all their energies to remedy the many miseries, this severe labor of love so suddenly ended, nearly exhausted, with their nurturing make the inmates tremble with anxious fear before the din and smoke of battle were over, refreshed before those open fireplace and these ovens, maintaining the right of the soldiers.
Along the border, when bathing a fevered head, travel-worn men, wet and weary, he recovered his wandering senses.  Suffering sadly from a wounded limb all seemed well, but begging for someone to pray for him, they found difficulty in managing them.  They listened quietly to all their complaints. Reading words of consolation, they never heard a word improper for the ear of a lady.


30.  “Aunt Lizzie” and “Mother” & Miss Mary E. Dupee
Unostentatious but effective, ‘prized about everything else they never faltered.  Many were too weak, whose constitutions were not entirely sapped.  A long succession of hardships, a wonder in the army, touching and sad, a few lines of poetry, their names will never appear in human histories.  Calmly waiting for what might come, they dropped their filthy rags.  They would “rather be spit upon, like dogs!” they said.  The sickness, the slow starvation, the uncounted deaths.  He seemed so happy and contented, forgetful of the atrocious scenes they had witnessed, whose eyes she had closed in death.  It seemed like a streak of daylight of unspeakable importance to the parting soul, that it could never grow old.  Smooth and soft, they would smile in all their pain, about to enter the vast Unknown.  Trying to stay the fast-ebbing sands of life, they put to his lips some cooling draught.


31.  Mrs. Elizabeth Mendenhall and Other Workers of Cincinnati
Her relatives were citizens of the South.  Her patients were able to walk slowly around the room, which was filled with bloodstained heroes.  Anything she found on hand was suitable for those who prevented her from condemning the perpetuation of slavery, so utterly unjust and iniquitous.  His eye meantime lit up as soon as there was call for such work. 


32.  Loyal Southern Women
She had hoped to live in peace and quiet.  His comrade slipped into a hut.  She told him her plan for his escape.  She gazed for a few moments on the tender lawn.  He raised himself and made a hasty reconnaissance.  She would not surrender her gun to anyone.  Her high-spirited defiance dared all danger.  He received an anonymous letter full of plantation venom.  She took responsibility for guarding the flag.
They were making merry over the fire.  They were sure to encounter vigorous hostility.  They relaxed their watch.  It was the night time and the train was crowded.  They were met at the doorway by her two daughters.  In the early part of the night the assassins had fired the bridge.  The machinations continued.  He asked his wife what they should do about this stray scion of the old stock.  The glances interchanged were hasty.  She moved slowly along the pavement.  Hour after hour of this tedious waiting and insult passed.
The position commanded the country around for miles.  The night was made hideous by savage screams.  He tried to cajole her by flatteries and amusing talk.  The two adventurers were together and undiscovered.  Before long a young lady of the city made him a present.  When everything was favorable, he threw a stone against the logs.  A large number had the courage to assert their sentiments openly.  He was as familiar with one as with the other.
Miserable cowards deserted the brave girl in the hour of danger.  She hurried after the thieves.  After daylight fell she made the proper arrangements.  A tasteful cottage home stood on the verge of a gentle slope.  He lay, still as a log, till dusk.  He found he was dealing with a resolute character.  They begged the heroic women to accept a purse of money.  They had long been friends and neighbors espousing opposite causes.


33.  Anna Etheridge & Miss A. Shelton
Order soon came out of confusion.  There was everything to be done and nothing to do with.  Few soldiers had so little need of rest.  History embalmed orphan lips in lines of fire.  The Tennessee burst through the barriers of the Appalachian range.  It was the only point in American subject to constant interruption by raids and surprises.
More than once she rushed to the front.  She laid the dead orderly on the ground.  He presented her with a handsome cross.  She shamed many others into doing their duty.  The line of battle swung around almost between her hands.
The ringing cheers of triumph were far above the clouds.  She laid her cool hand on his hot forehead.  They earned imperishable renown in great bloody battles.  They crowded up the rocky slope.  He thought she would come as soon as she learned he needed her.  There must have been an untold aggregate of suffering concentrated there.  She seemed to be possessed and animate by a single desire.  Stanching their wounds they were borne like a sunbeams on the air.

  
34.  Miss Georgiana Willets
Kept back by a misconception, her presence by their cots having greatly diminished, she went on the supply steamer, which recognized no demands of storm and sunshine, nor allowance for darkness and midnight, and in the darkness and confusion they were separated.  She was now quite alone, subject to insult by going wholly unprotected through one long quagmire, through which a horse could scarcely drag itself in the ever-shifting panorama of war, herself in readiness to respond to one battle after another, and given no time to collect, reorganize or recuperate, she entered heart and soul into her work, excepting when over-exertion produced sickness.
That campaign soon closed, as all the world knows.  A little attention might be of inestimable importance, so great as almost to reach suffering, until, as morning dawned, she was removed from that disastrous field when another shift in the grand kaleidoscope changed all arrangements.  Using all of woman’s wit and ingenuity, she never breathed a word of complaint.


35.  Women As Solders
They made a gallant and successful charge.  She came upon a small wagon train.  She was browned by exposure and with hardened sensibilities somewhat intact.  There was danger that the panic might spread.  He writhed in the grasp of a fatal disease.  She rode boldly on.  The effect was instantaneous and decisive.  Victory perched continually ahead.
Probably she had lingered too fondly.  She was not improved by the change.  All efforts to trace her were unavailing.  Her native soil drank her blood.  A disastrous day followed.  He left her only his name and a bleeding heart.
She laid the lifeless body of the captain over her horse.  She was almost wild with the terrible thought, but the part she acted was, when hard service had thinned the ranks, more fearless and sublime.  The gentle enthusiast was buried under a cloud-capped mountain.  They had hoped in vain by their united influence to dissuade her.  She never saw the folly of her idea.  Her determination became more fixed.


36.  Nelly M. Chase
She felt a fluid trickling down her throat.  She painfully swallowed to prevent drowning.  She heard voices encouraging her.  She imagined she was at home and half asleep.  
She was a woman with the soul to dare danger.  At first the glare confused her.  She gradually felt life and the love of life, coming back to her.  She fell into good hands — the blessed hands of a kind-hearted woman.  She looked helpless, but was not so.  They watched her symptoms with curiosity if not interest.  Even there, amid the roar and carnage, she was gifted in a wonderful way for scenes like these.  She considered herself a member of the regiment.  She washed the clotted gore from her face and hair.  She dipped some warm fluid from a cup.  Her hands were covered with blood.  They say she seldom sleeps.


37.  Woman’s Sacrifices
His animal spirits seemed inexhaustible.  Her childish face seemed pinched in agony.  He lifted his finger to his eye, as though defying the emotion he could not control.  Public honor could never make up her loss or heal her lacerated heart.  
They appeared alone in the empty sleeves which they saw in every village.  His knees were thrust forward in an acute angle.  He was about t o express a determination.  Her maternal feelings overcame her utterance.  He was ordered down into a deep ravine.  It was a dreary, lonesome beat.  Stars twinkled dimly through a hazy atmosphere.  He immediately started down the hill through the thick undergrowth.  He heard the tramp or cavalry.
Their faces now met in a long, joyful, sobbing embrace.  She rested her fingers on the fluttering and feverish pulse.  She remained to make his condition comfortable.  They were left without protection in the solitary cabin, in the lonely cottage.  The ocean seemed ever to grow narrower.  A “lump of sacrifice” burned on their hearthstones.  Many sections were cut short, others almost suspended.
The scarred and swarthy veterans returned to their homes.  The noble hearted can rob widowhood of only half its bitterness.  Ripened wheat had been abandoned in the golden field.  He felt the necessity of calling for fresh relays of men.  A final bugle call reached his ears.  Calmness and quiet were indispensable to the wounded hero.  Gently and without uttering a word, she moved to his bedside.
They all listened to the sound.  He reached out his hand for his canteen.  A week of dreadful pain and hardship ensued.  In a moment a scout of the enemy was upon them.  They seemed to scent in the evening air the banquet being prepared for them.  
She led by the hand a sharp, sprightly looking boy.  She turned away and entered the house.  A deep cloud of sorrow rested on her brow.  Folding the little faded shawl over her breast, she slipped away between the men. She turned a long, searching look at the poor fellows.  His face was covered with a flush.  The old woman lifted up her wrinkled, labor-knotted hands.  She thought, “What can be the matter with that child?”  She saw the little form becoming more rigid and fixed.  The body was taken up, embalmed, and forwarded.  She placed in his hands two beautiful and very valuable shawls.  He hoped that the Lord would sustain her during her bereavement.


38.  Miss Jane Boswell Moore
It was an awful day for them all.  They saw his coffin borne with tearful eyes.  They endeavored to be behind none in their devotion.  She had a shining record of ancestors and kinsmen.  They moved in the midst of appalling scenes.  The distress was great.  A female figure of Hope, with uplifted finger, grasped an anchor in a firm hand.  His work was done — he had nothing to do but die.  She told her story to the gravedigger.  How long he lived she never knew.  It was not often she allowed herself to dwell on the fearful realities of the past.  The roaring December wind sounded like the notes of a great funeral organ.  The doors, windows, and walls of their rude dwelling shook and rattled under every gun.  They sought sleep amid the sound of nailing coffins in the next room.  When she first saw him, he was weak and emaciated.  He wept, unmindful of his own wound.  A letter was brought to him.  The greatest of calamities had fallen upon him.  No one seemed able to soothe him.
Sad heart-rending letters were written nightly to kindred faraway.  They were too shy to speak but little.  She trembled for the poor maimed member.  A constant hollow cough also was heard from the opposite side.  He testified to their remarkable usefulness.  Her temperament was naturally enthusiastic.  To rescue a few from forgetfulness was no unworthy endeavor.
The sight of her face did him much good, before his face assumed an almost hopeless expression.  She often rejoiced that she was permitted to suffer.  The blood of tens of thousands of dearly loved fathers and sons had been thus poured out.
He raised his head above a stone wall to fire.  It was clear her money could amount to little.  By the light of a dimly rising moon they rode over the burial trenches.  He fell asleep there as the guns were firing, and with the whispered words of his widowed mother in his ears.  That long, cold winter, with its constant cares, passed away.  He was too weak to hold the pen firmly.  She was powerless to give consolation.  A deserted cabin formed their next quarters.  A picture of desolate grandeur with its dead on the hillside, thousands of the living thronged every winding path.
She was seriously impaired by the hardships she suffered.  She hadn’t a cent to buy anything with.  A soldier paced his weary rounds in a heavy snowstorm.  She was startled by the frightful rapidity with which death had done its work.  His plastic nature answered her fondest hopes.  They heard the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill when their busy day was done.  After a determined struggle her visits were constant.
It was enough to give the hardest hearts a pang.  She thought of her lonely and helpless condition.  The cold was severely felt in those open tents on that bleak hillside.  She felt a great responsibility resting on her.  They heard sad music.  A large flag was entrusted to them.  Her memory distinctly recalled the night of his death.  So many dead were sleeping by desolate churches.  She was fearful that he would injure himself by excitement.  By and by he relished stronger food.  He was feeble and tremulous.
This seemed the hardest of all their campaigns.  The claims of those suffering were so great that the dead could scarcely be thought of.  They were only the beginning of sad memories that would haunt her life.  Sharp pain was smothered for his sake.


39.  What Their Labors Have Accomplished
The question of the right submitted to the arbitration of the sword marks an epoch in civilized warfare.  They fed the flame of piety with busy fingers.  The skeleton victims of barbarism learned to forget the horrors of their long imprisonment.  Pouring stern and stirring notes as if by a simultaneous impulse laid hold upon the hearts of the people.  They were appealed to in the manner suggested in order to obtain a complete success reaching the heart of the soldier, so complicated was the machinery working in harmony supplying the wants of those permanently crippled.  Delicate health did not prevent her from acting.  She was killed instantly in the street by a stroke of lightning.
Hundreds bled in the great battles of the final campaign.  Bowed with crushing sorrow, she might have been rudely buried on that bloody field.  Charming scenes and stories are related, but how vast, how long, how bloody their struggle is known only to the Creator of the Universe.  Without challenge or insult, that organizing brain, the logical development of a desire to cheer, to sustain, to encourage, prompted by saddened hearts, eventually merged and comprehended a magnificent amount.
Taking into consideration that winter was fast approaching, they followed the path that had been blazed with vigor.  It was wholly gratuitous, shut out from their memories, the scenes which will always hallow those fields for her.  To outlive the assaults of an intestine foe, even before one hostile gun had been fired, the organization expanded.  Smooth running appliances, as broad as the theater of war, after the rage and desolation, though small in detail, an offering of gentle hands and pure hearts, stood in need of assistance.  Now was the time for them to be up and doing, as a freewill offering, carrying into execution a true plan, adjusted with great skill through heavy hours in the field.  Full of comforts, devices of love, they were remote from the seat of war.  Coming one bleak, cold day, she had gone out in her country’s defense.  Replenished from time to time, united in their sympathies, stretching its white length along the pier, each bore the marks of disease or wound, who have fallen by the way in the great march, who hobbled on crutches about the door.
All was now bustle and preparation.  The men, very slowly and feebly, waiting behind the door, were helped to their places.  Faces brighten.  Another’s morbid appetite craves some variation.  Delicious beyond belief, what a relief to meet such a warm reception!  The whistle of the train is heard, and the soldiers depart…
They spontaneously formed into a committee.  She added her name to the long roll of martyrs.  So varied and copious, they sealed their patriotism by death.  Forgotten and neglected among strangers, the slow corrosion of constant anxiety was left behind.  He found his table loaded entirely with the result of circumstances.  With zeal more unwearied, the truest consolation of celestial hope, she braved the storms of the terrible ocean with splendid success, whose record is rich with incidents.

                            — from Women of the War:  Their Heroism and Self-Sacrifice by Frank Moore;  S. S. Scranton & Co., Hartford, Conn., 1867

- April - June 2009

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