But antagonism was not always the rule. There were many sensible,

kind-hearted, efficient men among the surgeons who gave their time

and talents generously to further the comfort and well-being of their

patients,—men who would let me work hand in hand with them, the nurse

with the doctor, and listen kindly and respectfully to my suggestions,

if they were not calculated to benefit science. As I have said, the

chief surgeon was an unfailing refuge in times of distress, and

whenever broken down by fatigue and small miseries I sought his advice

and assistance, the first was not only the very best that could be

secured, but unlike most of its kind, palatable; and the last entirely

efficient. The surgeon too of my hospital though eccentric and wanting

in decision of character, sustained my authority during sore trials as

ably as he could; for the power delegated to him was not great, and his

dread of responsibility a disease. He never intended to be unjust or

unkind, but self-examination and investigation of characters around him

was not his forte. He certainly withstood a vast amount of complaint

directed against his chief matron; and while we had our pleasant little

difficulties occasionally, that we still preserved amicable relations

was due more to his amiable temper than my proper submission. I _think_

he had many faults, but I am sure I had more, and if the popular remark

which has since become a maxim, that a man must be very clever to

“keep a hotel” be true, it certainly ought to apply to one who can

govern a hospital.

————

_Sadness and Doubts._

Now during the summer of 1864 began what is really meant by “war,”

for privations had to be endured which tried body and soul, and which

temper and patience had to meet unflinchingly day and night. A growing

want of confidence was forced upon the mind; and with doubts which

though unexpressed were felt as to the ultimate success of our cause,

there came into play the antagonistic qualities of human nature.

_Sorrow and Privation._

The money worthless, and a weak Congress and weaker financier failing

to make it much more valuable than the paper it was printed on; the

former refusing to the last to raise the hospital fund to meet the

depreciation. Everything furnished through government contracts of the

very poorest description, perhaps necessarily so from the difficulty of

finding any supply.

The railroads constantly cut so that what had been carefully collected

in the country in the form of poultry and vegetables by hospital agents

would be rendered unfit for use by the time the connection would be

restored. The inducements for theft in this season of scarcity of

food and clothing. The pathetic appeals made for the coarsest meal by

starving men, all wore upon the health and strength of those exposed

to the strain, and made life weary and hopeless. The rations became

so small about this time that every ounce of flour was valuable, and

there were days when it was necessary to refuse with aching heart and

brimming eyes the request of decent, manly-looking fellows for a piece

of dry corn-bread. If given it would have robbed the rightful owner

of part of his scanty rations. After the flour or meal had been made

into bread, it was almost ludicrous to see with what painful solicitude

Miss G. and myself would count the rolls, or hold a council over the

pans of corn-bread, measuring with a string how large we could afford

to cut the squares, to be apportioned to a certain number. Sometimes

when from the causes above stated, the supplies were not issued as

usual, invention had to be taxed to an extreme, and every available

article in our pantry brought into requisition. We had constantly to

fall back upon dried apples and rice for convalescing appetites, and

herb-tea and arrowroot for the very ill. There was only one way of

making the last at all palatable, and that was by drenching it with

whiskey. Long abstinence in the field from everything that could be

considered, even then, a delicacy, had exaggerated the fancy of sick

men for any particular article of food they wanted into a passion; and

they begged for such peculiar dishes that surgeons and nurses might

well be puzzled. The greatest difficulty in granting these desires was

that tastes became contagious, and whatever one patient asked for,

his neighbor and the one next to him, and so on throughout the wards,

craved also, and it was impossible to decide upon whom to draw a check.

_No Change._

No one unacquainted with our domestic relations can appreciate the

difficulties under which we labored. Stoves in any degree of newness

or usefulness we did not have; they were rare and expensive luxuries.

As may be supposed, they were not the most convenient articles in the

world to pack away in blockade-running vessels; and the trouble and

expense of land transportation also seriously affected the quality

of the wood for fuel, furnished us. Timber which had been condemned

heretofore as unfit for use, light, soggy and decayed, became the only

quality available. The bacon too, cured the first two years of the

war, when salt commanded an enormous price, in most cases was spoilt,

from the economy used in preparing that article; and bacon was one of

the sinews of war. We kept up brave hearts, and said we could eat the

simplest fare, and wear the coarsest clothing, but there was absolutely

nothing to be bought that did not rank as a luxury. It was wasting time

and brain to attempt to economize, so we bent to the full force of

that wise precept, “Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” There

really was a great deal of heroism displayed when looking back, at the

calm courage with which I learned to count the number of mouths to be

fed daily, and then contemplating the food, calculate not how much

but how little each man could be satisfied with. War may be glorious

in all its panoply and pride, when in the field opposing armies meet

and strive for victory; but battles fought by starving the sick and

wounded—by crushing in by main force day by day all the necessities of

human nature, make victories hardly worth the name.

_Educated Rats._

Another of my local troubles were the rats, who felt the times, and

waxed strong and cunning, defying all attempts to entrap them, and

skillfully levying blackmail upon us day by day, and night after

night. Hunger had educated their minds and sharpened their reasoning

faculties. Other vermin, the change of seasons would rid us of, but

the coldest day in winter, and the hottest in summer, made no apparent

difference in their vivacious strategy. They examined traps with the

air of connoisseurs, sometimes springing them from a safe position,

and kicked over the bread spread with butter and strychnine to show

their contempt for such underhand warfare. The men related wonderful

rat-stories not well enough authenticated to put on record, but their

gourmands ate all the poultices applied during the night to the sick,

and dragged away the pads stuffed with bran from under the arms and

legs of the wounded.

_Rat Surgeon._

They even performed a surgical operation which would have entitled any

of them to pass the board. A Virginian had been wounded in the very

center of the instep of his left foot. The hole made was large, and

the wound sloughed fearfully around a great lump of proud flesh which

had formed in the center like an island. The surgeons feared to remove

this mass, as it might be connected with the nerves of the foot, and

lock-jaw might ensue. Poor Patterson would sit on his bed all day

gazing at his lame foot and bathing it with a rueful face, which had

brightened amazingly one morning when I paid him a visit. He exhibited

it with great glee, the little island gone, and a deep hollow left, but

the wound washed clean and looking healthy. Some skillful rat surgeon

had done him this good service while in the search for luxuries, and

he only knew that on awaking in the morning he had found the operation

performed.

_Novel style of catching them._

I never had but one personal interview with any of them. An ancient

gray gentleman, who looked a hundred years old, both in years and

depravity, would eat nothing but butter, when that article was twenty

dollars a pound; so finding all means of getting rid of him fail

through his superior intelligence, I caught him with a fish-hook, well

baited with a lump of his favorite butter, dropped into his domicile

under the kitchen floor. Epicures sometimes managed to entrap them and

secure a nice broil for supper, declaring that their flesh was superior

to squirrel meat; but never having tasted it, I cannot add my testimony

to its merits. They staid with us to the last, nor did I ever observe

any signs of a desire to change their politics. Perhaps some curious

_gourmet_ may wish a recipe for the best mode of cooking them. The rat

must be skinned, cleaned, his head cut off and his body laid open upon

a square board, the legs stretched to their full extent and secured

upon it with small tacks, then baste with bacon fat and roast before a

good fire quickly like canvas-back ducks.

————

_No Personal Animosities._

One of the remarkable features of the war was the perfect good nature

with which the rebels discussed their foes. In no instance up to a

certain period did I hear of any remark that savored of personal

hatred. They fought for a cause and against a power, and would speak in

depreciation of a corps or brigade; but “they fit us, and we fit them,”

was the whole story generally and till the blowing up of the mine at

Petersburg there was a gay, insouciant style in their descriptions of

the war scenes passing under their observation. But after that time

the sentiment changed from an innate feeling the Southern soldiers had

that mining was “a mean trick,” as they expressed it. They were not

sufficiently versed in military tactics to recognize that stratagem

is fair in war, and what added to their indignation was the pouring

in of _negro_ soldiers when the breach was effected. Incensed at the

surprise, they craved foes worthier of their steel, not caring to

rust it in the black cloud that issued from the crater. The men had

heretofore been calm and restrained, particularly before a woman, never

using oaths or improper language, but the wounded that were brought in

from that fight emulated the talents of Uncle Toby’s army in Flanders,

and eyes gleamed, and teeth clenched as they showed me the locks of

their muskets, to which the blood and hair still clung, when after

firing, without waiting to re-load, they had clenched the barrels and

fought hand to hand. If their accounts could be relied upon, it was a

gallant strife and a desperate one, and ghastly wounds bore testimony

of the truth of many a tale then told.

_The Bitter Blood._

Once again the bitter blood showed itself, when, after a skirmish,

the foe cut the rail track, so that the wounded could not be brought

to the city. Of all the monstrous crimes that war sanctions, this is

surely the most sinful. Wounded soldiers without the shelter of a roof,

or the comfort of a bed of straw, left exposed to sun, dew, and rain,

with hardly the prospect of a warm drink or decent food for days,

knowing that comfortable quarters awaited them, all ready prepared,

but rendered useless by what seems an unnecessarily cruel act. Was it

any wonder that their habitual indifference to suffering gave way, and

the soldier cursed loud and deep at a causeless inhumanity, which, if

practiced habitually, is worse than savage? When the sufferers at last

reached the hospital, their wounds had not been attended to for three

days, and the sight of them was shocking.

_A Common Sight._

Busy in my kitchen, seeing that the supply of necessary food was in

preparation, I was spared the sight of much of the suffering, but on

passing among the ambulances going in and out of the wards I descried

seated up in one of them a dilapidated figure, both hands holding his

head which was tied up with rags of all descriptions. He appeared to be

incapable of talking, but nodded and winked and made motions with head

and feet. In the general confusion he had been forgotten, so I took him

under my especial charge. He was taken into a ward, seated on a bed,

while I stood on a bench to be able to unwind rag after rag from around

his head. There was no sensitiveness on his part, for his eye was merry

and bright, but when the last came off, what a sight!

_A Looking-Glass Wanted._

Two balls had passed through his cheek and jaw within half an inch

of each other, knocking out the teeth on both sides and cutting the

tongue in half. The inflammation caused the swelling to be immense,

and the absence of all previous attendance, in consequence of the

detention of the wounded until the road could be mended, had aggravated

the symptoms. There was nothing fatal to be apprehended, but fatal

wounds are not always the most trying. The sight of this was the most

sickening my long experience had ever seen. The swollen lips turned

out, and the mouth filled with blood, matter, fragments of teeth from

amidst all of which the maggots in countless numbers swarmed and

writhed, while the smell generated by this putridity was unbearable.

Castile soap and soft sponges soon cleansed the offensive cavity, and

he was able in an hour to swallow some nourishment he drew through a

quill. The following morning I found him reading the newspaper, and

entertaining every one about him by his abortive attempts to make

himself understood, and in a week he actually succeeded in doing

so. The first request distinctly enunciated was that he wanted a

looking-glass to see if his sweetheart would be willing to kiss him

when she saw him. We all assured him that she would not be worthy of

the name if she would not be delighted to do so.

_Vaccination._

An order come about this time to clear out the lower wards for the

reception of improperly-vaccinated patients, who soon after arrived in

great numbers. They were dreadfully afflicted objects, many of them

with sores so deep and thick upon arms and legs that amputation had

to be resorted to, to preserve life. As fast as the eruption would be

healed in one spot, it would break out in another, for the blood seemed

entirely poisoned. The unfortunate victims bore the infliction as they

had borne everything else painful—with calm patience and indifference

to suffering. Sometimes a favorable comparison would be made between

this and the greater loss of limbs.

_Prisoners of War._

No one who was a daily witness to their agonies from this cause,

can help feeling indignant at charges made of inhumanity to Federal

prisoners of war, who were vaccinated with the same virus; and while on

this subject, though it may be outside of the recollections of hospital

life, I cannot help stating that on no occasion was the question of

rations and medicines to be issued for Federal prisoners discussed

in my presence; and circumstances placed me where I had the best

opportunity of hearing the truth (living with the wife of a Cabinet

officer); that good evidence was not given, that the Confederate

commissary-general, by order of the government issued to them the same

rations it gave its soldiers in the field, and only when reductions of

food had to be made in our army, were they also made in the prisons.

The question of supplies for them was an open and a vexed one among the

people generally, and angry and cruel things were _said_; but everyone

cognizant of facts in Richmond _knows_ that even when Gen. Lee’s

army lived on corn-meal at times that the prisoners still received

their usual rations. At a cabinet meeting when the Commissary-general

Northrop advocated putting the prisoners on the half rations which our

soldiers had been obliged to content themselves with for some time,

Gen. Lee opposed him on the ground that men animated by companionship

and active service could be satisfied with less than prisoners with no

hope and leading an inactive life. Mr. Davis sided with him, and the

question was settled that night, although in his anger Mr. Northrop

accused Gen. Lee of showing this consideration because his son was a

prisoner in the enemy’s lines.

_Unwelcome Visitors._

My hospital was now entirely composed of Virginians and Marylanders,

and the nearness to the homes of the former entailed upon me an

increase of care in the shape of wives, sisters, cousins, aunts, and

whole families including the historic baby at the breast. They came

in troops, and hard as it was to know how to dispose of them, it was

harder to send them away. Sometimes they brought their provisions with

them, but not often, and even when they did there was no place for them

to cook their food. It must be remembered that everything was reduced

to the lowest minimum, even fuel. They could not remain all day in

the wards with men around them, and if even they were so willing, the

restraint on wounded, restless patients who wanted to throw their limbs

about with freedom during hot summer days, was unbearable.

_An Unexpected Gathering._

Generally their only idea of kindness was giving sick men what food

they would take in any quantity and of every quality, and in the

furtherance of their views they were pugnacious in the extreme.

Whenever rules circumscribed their plans they abused the government,

then the hospital and then myself. Many ludicrous incidents happened

daily, and I have often laughed heartily at seeing the harassed

ward-master heading away a pertinacious female who failing to get past

him at one door would try the three others perseveringly. They seemed

to think it a pious and patriotic duty not to be afraid or ashamed

under _any_ circumstances. One sultry day I found a whole family

accompanied by two young lady friends seated around a wounded man’s

bed; as I passed through six hours later, they held the same position.

_Counterchecks._

“Had not you all better go home?” I said good-naturedly.

“We came to see my cousin,” answered one very crossly. “He is wounded.”

“But you have been with him all morning, and that is a restraint upon

the other men. Come again to-morrow.”

A consultation was held, but when it ceased no movement was made, the

older ones only lighting their pipes and smoking in silence.

“Will you come back to-morrow, and go now?”

“No! You come into the wards when you please, and so will we!”

“But it is my duty to do so. Besides, I always ask permission to enter,

and never stay longer than fifteen minutes at a time.”

Another unbroken silence, which was a trial to any patience left, and

finding no movement made, I handed some clothing to a patient near.

“Here is a clean shirt and drawers for you, Mr. Wilson; put them on as

soon as I get out of the ward.”

_Checkmated._

I had hardly reached my kitchen, when the whole procession, pipes and

all, passed me solemnly and angrily; but for many days, and even weeks,

there was no ridding the place of this large family connection. Their

sins were manifold. They overfed their relative who was recovering from

an attack of typhoid fever, and even defiantly seized the food for the

purpose from under my very nose. They marched on me _en masse_ at ten

o’clock at night, with a requisition from the boldest for sleeping

quarters. The steward was summoned, and said “he didn’t keep a hotel,”

so in a weak moment of pity for their desolate state, I imprudently

housed them in my laundry. They entrenched themselves there for six

days, making predatory incursions into my kitchen during my temporary

absences, ignoring Miss G. completely. The object of their solicitude

recovered and was sent to the field, and finding my writs of ejectment

were treated with contemptuous silence, I sought an explanation. The

same spokeswoman alluded to above, met me half-way. She said a battle

was imminent she had heard, and she had determined to remain, as her

husband might be wounded. In the ensuing press of business she was

forgotten, and strangely enough, her husband was brought in with a

bullet in his neck the following week. The back is surely fitted to the

burden, so I contented myself with retaking my laundry, and letting her

shift for herself, while a whole month slipped away. One morning my

arrival was greeted with a general burst of merriment from everybody

I met, white and black. Experience had made me sage, and my first

question was a true shot, right in the center.

_Unexpected and Unwelcome Visitor._

“Where is Mrs. Daniells?” (she who had always been spokeswoman).

“In ward G. She has sent for you two or three times.”

“What is the matter now?”

“You must go and see.”

There was something going on, either amusing or amiss. I entered ward

G, and walked up to Daniells’ bed. One might have heard a pin drop.

I had supposed, up to this time, that I had been called upon to bear

and suffer every annoyance that humanity and the state of the country

could inflict; but here was something most unexpected in addition; for

lying composedly on her husband’s cot (he had relinquished it for the

occasion), lay Mrs. Daniells, and her baby, just two hours old.

_What shall I do with it?_

The conversation that ensued is not worth repeating, being more of the

nature of soliloquy. The poor little wretch had ventured into a bleak

and comfortless portion of the world, and its inhuman mother had not

provided a rag to cover it. No one could scold her at such a time,

however ardently they might desire to do so. But what was to be done?

I went in search of my chief surgeon, and our conversation although

didactic was hardly satisfactory on the subject.

“Doctor, Mrs. Daniells has a baby. She is in ward G. What shall I do

with her?”

“A baby! Bless me! Ah indeed! You must get it some clothes.”

“What must I do with _her_?”

“Move her to an empty ward and give her some tea and toast.”

This was offered, but Mrs. D. said she would wait until dinner-time and

have some bacon and greens.

The baby was a sore annoyance. The ladies of Richmond made up a

wardrobe, each contributing some article, and at the end of the month,

Mrs D., the child, and a basket of clothing and provisions were sent

to the cars with a return ticket to her home in western Virginia. My

feelings of relief can be imagined. But the end had not come. An hour

after the ambulance had started with them, it stopped at my kitchen

door apparently empty, and the black driver with a grin half of

delighted mischief and half of fear silently lifted a bundle out and

deposited it carefully upon my kitchen dresser. Mrs. Daniells’ baby!

_As Godmother._

The unnatural woman had deserted it, leaving it in the railroad depot,

but the father fortunately was still with us and to him I appealed. A

short furlough was obtained for him, and he was despatched home with

his embarrassing charge and a quart of milk. He was a wretched picture

of helplessness, but had I sent again for the mother I should never

have got rid of her. It may be remarked _en passant_ that she was not

wholly ungrateful, for the baby was named after me.

_Home-sickness._

There were no means of keeping the relations of patients from coming

to them. There had been rules made to meet their invasion, but it was

impossible to carry them out, as in the instance of a wife wanting

to remain with her husband; and besides even the better class of

people looked upon the comfort and care of a hospital as a farce. They

resented the detention there of men who in many instances could lie in

bed and point to their homes within sight, and argued that they would

have better attention and food if allowed to go to their families.

That _maladie du pays_ called commonly nostalgia, the home-sickness

which wrings the heart and impoverishes the blood, killed many a brave

soldier; and the matron who day by day had to stand helpless and

powerless by the bed of the sufferer, knowing that a week’s furlough

would make his heart sing for joy, and save his wife from widowhood,

learned the most bitter lesson of endurance that could be taught.

This home-sickness recognized no palliation. However carefully the

appetite might be pampered, or stimulants prepared and given, the

food never nourished, the drink never strengthened; the decay would

be gradual, but death was inevitable. Perhaps when recovery seemed

hopeless, a statement of the case might procure a furlough from the

examining board of surgeons, but the patient would then be too weak and

low to profit by the concession. It was wonderful to see how long the

poor broken machine would hold out in some cases. For months I have

watched a victim, helpless, hopeless, and motionless, simply receive

into his mouth daily a few spoonfuls of nourishment, making no other

movement, the skin barely covering the bones, and the skeleton of the

face as sharply defined as it might have been days after dissolution.

The answer to cheering words seldom exceeding a slight movement of the

eyelids. Towards the end of the war, this detention of men who could

have been furloughed at first, and some other abuses were reformed

by allowing a board to be convened of three of the oldest surgeons

attached to the hospital, who had authority to dispose of such cases

without deferring to higher powers. There had been so much imposition

practiced by men desirous of getting furloughs, and so many abuses

had crept in despite the stringency of rules, that severity seemed

necessary.

————

_Spring Operations._

The spring campaign of 1864 again opened with the usual “On to

Richmond.” Day after day and night after night would the sudden

explosion of cannon boom upon the air. The enemy were always coming,

and curiosity seemed to have usurped the place of fear among the

women. In the silence of night the alarm bells would suddenly peal

out, till the order to ring them at any sign of danger was modified to

a command to sound them only in case of positive attack. The people

became so accustomed to the report of fire-arms, that they scarcely

interrupted their conversation at corners of the streets to ask in what

direction the foe was advancing, or if there was any foe at all.

There was such entire reliance upon the military vigilance that guarded

the city, and former attacks had been so promptly repelled, that

whatever was ultimately to be the result of the war, no one trembled

then for Richmond. So the summer of 1864 passed, and early in September

our hearts were gladdened by the tidings that the exchange of prisoners

was to be renewed. The sick and wounded of our hospital (but few in

number just then), were transferred to other quarters, and the wards

put in order to receive our men from Northern prisons.

_Unpleasant Truths._

Can any pen or pencil do justice to those squalid pictures of famine

and desolation? Those gaunt, lank skeletons with the dried yellow flesh

clinging to bones enlarged by dampness and exposure? Those pale,

bluish lips and feverish eyes, glittering and weird when contrasted

with the famine-stricken faces,—that flitting, piteous, scared smile

which greeted their fellow creatures, all will live forever before the

mental vision that then witnessed it.

Living and dead were taken from the flag-of-truce boat, not

distinguishable save from the difference of care exercised in moving

them. The Federal prisoners we had released were in many instances in

a like state, but our ports had been blockaded, our harvests burned,

our cattle stolen, our country wasted. Even had we felt the desire to

succor, where could the wherewithal have been found? But the foe,—the

ports of the world were open to him. He could have fed his prisoners

upon milk and honey, and not have missed either. When we review the

past, it would seem that Christianity was but a name—that the Atonement

had failed, and Christ had lived and died in vain.

_Cast your bread upon the waters._

But it was no time then for vague reflections. With beating heart,

throbbing head and icy hands I went among this army of martyrs

and spectres whom it was almost impossible to recognize as human

beings; powerless to speak to them, choking with unavailing pity, but

still striving to aid and comfort. There was but little variety of

appearance. From bed to bed the same picture met the eye. Hardly a

vestige of human appearance left.

_Draw the Vail down._

The passion of sympathy could only impede my efforts if yielded to, for

my hand shook too tremulously even to allow me to put the small morsels

of bread soaked in wine into their mouths. It was all we dared to give

at first. Some laid as if dead with limbs extended, but the greater

part had drawn up their knees to an acute angle, a position they never

changed until they died. Their more fortunate comrades said that the

attitude was generally assumed, as it reduced the pangs of hunger and

relieved the craving that gnawed them by day and by night. The Federal

prisoners may have been starved at the South, we cannot deny the truth

of the charge, in many instances; but we starved with them; we had only

a little to share with any—but the subject had better be left to die in

silence.

_A Common Story._

One among them lingered in patience the usual three days that

appeared to be their allotted space of life on their return. He was a

Marylander, heir to a name renowned in the history of his country,[1]

the last of seven sons reared in affluence, but presenting the same

bluish, bloodless appearance common to them all. Hoping that there

would be some chance of his rallying, I gave him judicious nursing

and good brandy. Every precaution was taken, but the third day fever

supervened and the little life left waned rapidly. He gave me the

trinkets cut from gutta percha buttons that he had beguiled his

captivity in making at Point Lookout, to send to his family, handing me

one of them for a souvenir; begged that he might be buried apart from

the crowd in some spot where those who knew and cared for him might

find him some day, and quietly slept himself to death that night.

_A Strange Experience._

The next morning was the memorable 29th September, 1864, when the enemy

made a desperate and successful attack, taking Fort Harrison, holding

it and placing Richmond in jeopardy for four hours. The alarm bells

summoned the citizens together, and the shops being closed to allow

those who kept them to join the city guards, there were no means of

buying a coffin, or getting a hearse. It was against the rules to keep

a body beyond a certain time on the hospital grounds, so little time

was to be lost if I intended keeping my promise to the dead. I summoned

a convalescent carpenter from one of the wards, made him knock together

a rough coffin from some loose boards, and taking the seats out of my

ambulance had it, with the body enclosed, put in. My driver was at his

post with the guards, so taking the reins and kneeling in the little

space at the side of the coffin I started for Hollywood cemetery, a

distance of five miles.

The enemy were then in sight, and from every elevated point the masses

of manœuvering soldiers and flash of the enemy’s cannon could be

distinguished. Only stopping as I passed through the city to buy a

piece of ground from the old cemetery agent, I reached Hollywood by

twelve o’clock. Near the burying-ground I met the Rev. Mr. McCabe,

requested his presence and assistance, and we stood side by side

while the sexton dug his grave. The rain was pouring in torrents,

while the clergyman repeated the Episcopal burial service from memory.

Besides ourselves there but two poor women, of the humblest class

of life—Catholics, who passing casually, dropped upon their knees,

undeterred by the rain, and paid their humble tribute of respect to the

dead.

“_We left him alone in his glory._”

He had all the honors of a soldier’s burial paid to him unconsciously,

for the cannon roared and the musketry rattled, mingling with the

thunder and lightning of Heaven’s artillery. The sexton held his

hat over the small piece of paper on which I inscribed his name and

birthplace (to be put on his headboard) to protect it from the rain,

and with a saddened heart for the solitary grave we left behind I drove

back to the city. The reverend gentleman was left at his home, and,

perhaps, to this day does not know who his companion was during that

strange hour.

_Intense Anxiety._

I found the city in the same state of excitement, for no authentic news

was to be heard, or received, except perhaps at official quarters; and

it was well known that we had no troops nearer than Petersburg, save

the citizens who had enrolled themselves for defense; therefore too

anxious to return directly to the hospital, I drove to the residence

of one of the cabinet ministers, where I was engaged to attend a

dinner, and found the mistress of the establishment, surrounded by

her servants and trunks preparing for a hasty retreat when necessary.

Some persuasion induced her to desist, and the situation of the house

commanding an extensive view of the surrounding country, we watched

the advance of the enemy from the extreme northeast, for with the

aid of opera-glasses we could even distinguish the colors of their

uniforms. Slowly onward moved the bodies of dark blue, emerging from

and disappearing into the woods, seeming to be skirting around them,

but not to be diminishing the distance between, although each moment

becoming more distinct, which proved their advance, while not one

single Confederate jacket could be observed over the whole sweep of

ground.

_Saved._

Half an anxious hour passed, and then, far away against the distant

horizon, one single mounted horseman emerged from a thick wood, looked

cautiously around, passed across the road and disappeared. He was in

gray, and followed by another and another, winding around and cutting

off the foe. Then a startling peal at the bell, and a courier brought

the news that Wade Hampton and his cavalry were close upon the rear

of the enemy. There was no occasion for fear after this, for General

Hampton was the Montrose of the Southern army, he who could make any

cause famous with his pen and glorious with his sword. The dinner

continued in course of preparation, and was seasoned, when served, by

spirits brightened by the strong reaction.

————

_Itinerary Labors._

The horrors that attended, in past times, the bombardment of a city,

were experienced in a great degree in Richmond during the fighting

around us. The close proximity to the scenes of strife, the din of

battle, the bursting of shells, the fresh wounds of the men hourly

brought in were daily occurrences. Walking through the streets during

this time, after the duties of the hospital were over, when night had

well advanced, the pavement around the railroad depot would be crowded

with wounded men just brought in, and laid there waiting for conveyance

to the receiving hospitals. Some on stretchers, others on the bare

bricks, or laid on a thin blanket, suffering from wounds hastily

wrapped around with strips of coarse, unbleached, galling bandages

of homespun cotton, on which the blood had congealed and stiffened

until every crease cut like a knife. Women passing accidentally, like

myself, would put down their basket or bundle, and ringing at the bell

of neighboring houses, ask for basin and soap, warm water, and a few

soft rags, and going from sufferer to sufferer, try to alleviate with

what skill they possessed, the pain of fresh wounds, change the uneasy

posture, and allay the thirst. Others would pause and look on, till

the labor appearing to require no particular talent, they too would

follow the example set them, and occasionally asking a word of advice,

do their duty carefully and willingly. Idle boys would get a pine

knot or tallow-dip, and stand quietly and curiously as torch-bearers,

till the scene, with its gathering accessories formed a strange

picture, not easily forgotten. Persons driving in different vehicles

would alight sometimes in evening dress, and choosing the wounded

most in need of surgical aid, put them in their places, and send them

to their destination, continuing their way on foot. There was little

conversation carried on, no necessity for introductions, and no names

ever asked or given.

_A Rose by any other Name._

This indifference to personality was a peculiarity strongly exhibited

in hospitals, for after nursing a sick or wounded patient for months,

he has often left without any curiosity exhibited as regarded my name,

my whereabouts, or indeed any thing connected with me. A case in point

was related by a friend. When the daughter of our general had devoted

much time and care to a sick man in one of the hospitals, he seemed to

feel so little gratitude for the attention paid, that her companion to

rouse him told him that Miss Lee was his nurse. “Lee, Lee?” he said.

“There are some Lees down in Mississippi who keep a tavern there. Is

she one of them Lees?”

_Not among the Compliments._

Almost of the same style, although a little worse was the remark of

one of my sick, a poor fellow who had been wounded in the head and who,

though sensible enough ordinarily, would feel the effect of the sun on

his brain when exposed to its influence. After advising him to wear a

wet paper doubled into the crown of his hat more from a desire to show

some interest in him than from any belief in its efficacy, I paused at

the door long enough to hear him ask the ward-master “who that was?”

“Why, that is the matron of the hospital; she gives you all the food

you eat, and attends to things.” “Well!” said he, “I always did think

this government was a confounded sell, and now I am sure of it, when

they put such a little fool to manage such a big hospital as this.”

The ingenuity of the men was wonderful in making toys and trifles,

and a great deal of mechanical talent was developed by the enforced

inaction of hospital life. Every ward had its draught-board and

draughtsmen cut out of hard wood and stained with vegetable dies,

and sometimes chessmen would be cut out with a common knife, in such

ornamentation that they would not have disgraced a drawing-room.

_New Uses for the Bible._

One man carved pipes from ivy root, with exquisitely-cut shields on

the bowls, bearing the arms of the different States and their mottoes.

He would charge and easily get a hundred and fifty dollars for a

pipe (Confederate paper was then sixty cents for the dollar), and

he only used his well-worn pocket-knife. Playing cards—the greatest

comfort to alleviate the tedium of their sick life—were difficult to

get a substitute for, so that the original packs had a hard time.

They became, as may be supposed from the hands which used them, very

dirty in a short time, and the corners in a particularly disreputable

condition, but after the diffusion of the Oxford editions of the

different books of the Bible sent from England as a donation, the

soldiers took a lesson, and rounded the corners in imitation. A pack of

cards after four years’ use in a Southern hospital was beyond criticism.

_Camp Fashions._

The men had their fashions too, sometimes insisting upon having light

blue pants drawn for them, and at other seasons preferring gray; but

while the mania for either color raged, they would be dissatisfied

with the other. When the quartermaster-general issued canvas shoes

there was a loud dissatisfaction expressed in constant grumbling, till

some original genius dyed the whitish tops by the liberal application

of poke-berries. He was the Brummel of the day, and for many months

crimson shoes were the rage, and long rows of unshod men would sit

under the eaves of the wards, all diligently employed in the same labor

and up to their elbows in red juice.

This fashion died out, and gave place to a button mania. Men who had

never had a dream or a hope beyond a horn convenience to keep their

clothing together, saved up their scanty means to replace them with

gilt, and made neat little wooden shelves with a slit through the

middle into which the buttons slid, so that they could be cleaned and

brightened without taking them off, or soiling the jacket. With the

glitter of buttons came the corresponding taste for gilt bands and

tinsel around the battered hat, so that while our future was lowering

darker and darker, our soldiers were amusing themselves like children

who had no interest in the coming results.

————

_Life was so Sweet._

The duty which of all others pressed most heavily upon me and which

I never did perform voluntarily was that of telling a man he could

not live, when he was perhaps unconscious that there was any danger

apprehended from his wound. The idea of death so seldom occurs when

disease and suffering have not wasted the frame and destroyed the vital

energies, that there is but little opening or encouragement to commence

such a subject unless the patient suspects the result ever so slightly.

In many cases too, the yearning for life was so strong that to destroy

the hope was beyond human power. Life was for him a furlough, family

and friends once more around him; a future was all he wanted, and

considered it cheaply purchased if only for a month by the endurance of

any wound, however painful or wearisome.

_Difficult Responsibilities._

There were long discussions among those responsible during the war, as

to the advisability of the frequent amputations on the field, and often

when a hearty, fine-looking man in the prime of life would be brought

in minus an arm or leg, I would feel as if it might have been saved,

but experience taught me the wisdom of prompt measures. Poor food and

great exposure had thinned the blood and broken down the system so

entirely that secondary amputations performed in the hospital almost

invariably resulted in death, after the second year of the war. The

blood lost on the battlefield when the wound was first received would

enfeeble the already impaired system and render it incapable of further

endurance.

_Failures._

Once we received a strong, stalwart soldier from Alabama, and after

five days’ nursing, finding the inflammation from the wound in his

arm too great to save the limb, the attending surgeon requested me to

feed him on the best I could command; by that means to try and give

him strength to undergo amputation. Irritability of stomach as well

as indifference to food always accompanying gun-shot wounds, it was

necessary, while the fever continued, to give him as much nourishment

in as small a compass as possible, as well as easily digestible food,

that would assimilate with his enfeebled condition. Beef tea he (in

common with all soldiers and I believe men) would not, or could not

take, or anything I suggested as an equivalent, so getting his consent

to drink some “chemical mixture,” I prepared the infusion. Chipping up

a pound of beef and pouring upon it a half pint of water, the mixture

was stirred until all the blood was extracted, and only a tea-spoonful

of white fibre remained; a little salt was added, and favored by the

darkness of the corner of the ward in which he lay, I induced him to

swallow it. He drank without suspicion, and fortunately liked it,

only complaining of its being too sweet; and by the end of ten days

his pulse was fairly good, and there had been no accession of fever.

Every precaution was taken, both for his sake and the benefit of the

experiment, and the arm taken off by the most skillful surgeon we

had. After the amputation, which he bore bravely, he looked as bright

and well as before, and so on for five days—then the usual results

followed. The system proved not strong enough to throw out the “pus”

or inflammation; and this, mingling with the blood, produced that most

fatal of all diseases, pyæmia, from which no one ever recovers.

_Erin-go-bragh._

He was only one of numerous cases, so that my heart beat twice as

rapidly as ordinarily whenever there were any arrangements progressing

for amputation, after any length of time had elapsed since the

wound, or any effort made to save the limb. The only cases under my

observation that survived were two Irishmen, and it was really so

difficult to kill an Irishman that there was little cause for boasting

on the part of the officiating surgeons. One of them had his leg cut

off in pieces, amputation having been performed three times, and the

last heard from him was that he had married a young wife and settled

on a profitable farm she owned in Macon, Georgia. He had touched

the boundary lines of the “unknown land,” had been given up by the

surgeons, who left me with orders to stimulate him if possible. The

priest (for he was a Catholic) was naturally averse to my disturbing

what he considered the last moments of a dying man who had made his

confession and taken his farewell of this world, and which ought to

have been devoted to less worldly temptations than mint juleps; and a

rather brisk encounter was the result of a difference of opinion on

the subject; for if he was responsible for the soul, so was I for the

body, and I held my ground firmly.

_Whiskey_ versus _Religion._

It was hard for an Irishman and a good Catholic to have to choose

at this supreme moment between religion and whiskey; but though

his head was turned respectfully towards good Father T—— his eyes

rested too lovingly on the goblet offered to his lips to allow me to

make any mistake as to the results of his ultimate intentions. The

interpretation put by me on that look was that Callahan thought that

as long as first proof brandy and mint lasted in the Confederacy this

world was good enough for him, and the result proved that I was not

mistaken. He always gave me the credit I have awarded to the juleps,

and until the evacuation of Richmond kept me informed of his domestic

happiness.

————

_My Furlough._

Though my health up to this time had withstood the bad effects of

exposure and exertion, the strain had become too great, and the

constantly recurring agitation which had been excited each day on

receiving the returned prisoners, had broken me down completely. A

visit to the surgeon-general with a request for a month’s leave of

absence, met with a ready acquiescence. The old gentleman was very

urbane, even making one or two grim jokes, and handed me not only

permission to leave, but the necessary transportation. Very necessary

in this case, as traveling expenses were enormously high, and the

government had seized for the whole month of October the railroads for

military use, putting a complete stop to private travel.

It had been like tearing body and soul apart, when necessity compelled

me to leave my hospital, from which I had never been separated but

one day in nearly four years; and when all arrangements for departure

had been completed, Miss G. urged, entreated and commanded to keep a

sharp look-out upon the whiskey, and be alike impenetrable to feints,

stratagems and entreaties, my heart began to sink. A visit to the wards

did not tend to strengthen my wavering resolves. The first invalid

to whom I communicated the news of my intended departure burst into

a passion of tears, and improved my frame of mind by requesting me

to kill him at once, for he would certainly die if left. Standing by

his bedside, unsettled and irresolute, all the details of my daily

life rose before me. The early and comforting visit to the sick after

their feverish, restless night; when even if there were no good to be

effected, they would feel the kindness, and every man’s head would be

thrust out of the bed-clothes as by one impulse, and jealousy evinced

when a longer pause by one bedside than another would arouse the

feeling. Often has the ward-master recalled me when at, the distance

of a quarter of a mile from his ward, at the request of a patient, and

when going back to find out what was wanted, a hearty convalescent

would explain that I had passed through and omitted to speak to him.

_Off._

Farewells were exchanged at last, and the 6th October, 1864, found me

at the Fredericksburg station, _en route_ for Georgia. A search at the

last moment before stepping into the cars, discovered that my keys,

together with my watch, had been left at the hospital, while, as an

equivalent, there remained at the bottom of my basket half a salt

mackerel (a rare luxury in the Confederacy), begged for a sick man who

fancied it, a day before, and forgotten in the hurry of packing. I was

compelled to defer my start until the 7th.

There are some schoolday recollections hanging around the softening by

Hannibal of a rugged journey by the plentiful application of vinegar;

but what acid could soften the rigors of that trip to Georgia? They

can hardly be recounted in any degree of limited space. With the aid

of two gentlemen, and indeed every disengaged man on the road, a safe

termination was effected after many days, and a delicious holiday

passed in idleness and _Confederate_ luxury, free from the wear and

tear of constantly excited feelings. Then came the stern reflection

that I had no right to exceed the furlough of thirty days accorded by

Dr. Moore. A search was immediately made for an escort, which having

failed, general advice was unanimously given to “go alone,” on the

grounds that women had become entirely independent at this time, and

“no man knowing the object of your journey could fail to give you all

the assistance you would need.”

_A Hard Road to Travel._

Fired with this Quixotic sentiment, an early start was made. Finding

almost immediately that I had not received checks for my trunks, I

ventured, while the afflatus lasted, to touch a man who sat in front of

me on the arm, and request him to call the conductor. “I am sorry to

say that I am not acquainted with him,” was the answer; and down I went

to zero, never rising again till my journey was accomplished.

Perhaps the details of my trials may give my readers some idea of the

state of the country at that time. At West Point, which took an hour

and a half’s travel to reach from Legrange, we had to sleep all night,

there being no connection for twelve hours. There were no bed-rooms,

and no candles to be had, and the female travelers sat in the little

bar of the tavern (the leading hotel being closed) brightened by a

pine knot, with their feet on the sanded floor, and ate what they had

provided themselves with from their baskets.

_Services not Required._

Another two hours’ travel on to Opelika the next day, and another

detention for half-a-dozen hours. At Columbus, a rumor that the

cars had been seized for government transportation made me anxious

concerning the nature of my ticket, which I found to my dismay was

not suited to meet the emergency through some inadvertence; so long

before starting-time I was waiting at the depot seated on my trunk,

half amused and half mortified at the resemblance thus offered to an

emigrant Irish servant woman. The place was crowded with invalided

soldiers, for the government was moving the hospitals to the lower

part of the State, and idle spectators seeing my evident alarm offered

all kinds of irrational advice. A suggestion was sensibly made by

some one that by seeking one of the most helpless of the wounded and

requesting him to allow me to pass as his nurse my object might be

effected; but every man to whom I opened my proposals seemed alarmed

at and opposed to this idea. Towards the last the confusion became

distracting—everybody calling for the conductor, who possessing no

power, the cars being under military control, first denied his identity

and then hid himself.

_Friend to the “Faymales.”_

Help came at the last moment in the form of a red-faced, half-tipsy

Irish porter who had been cheering me on with winks of encouragement at

my frantic efforts for some time. “Lit me put yer trunks on,” he said,

and “thin go to Col. Frankland at the rare of the cars—sure he’s the

man to help the faymales.”

My forlorn hope, Col. Frankland, was standing on the platform at the

extreme rear of the cars, surrounded by a semi-circle below, about

twenty-five feet deep, all pressing on to get to seats already too

full. He was gesticulating and shouting like a madman. The lame, the

halt, and the blind stood around. Crutches, splints, and huge sticks

represented a small wood. Green blinds over eyes, raw faces peeled

from erysipelas, and still showing variegated hues of iodine, gave

picturesqueness to the scene. Had he borne Cæsar and his fortunes he

could not have been more interested. For two hours he had been stemming

this living tide.

_A Bold Attempt._

I had met and fraternized with a lady and gentleman, old acquaintances,

encountered at the depot, who appeared as anxious to get Northward

as myself; so telling her not to move until I had either achieved my

object or failed, and if I made her a sign to join me, I took my

position at the fag end of the crowd below the colonel, and undeterred

by distance and uproar I essayed a faint call for notice. The sound

died away in my throat, but my Irish friend (I am sure he took me for

one of his cousins from the “ould counthrie”), was by my side in an

instant and repeated the call. A hundred voices took up the refrain, “A

lady wants to speak to the colonel,” and universal curiosity regarding

the _private_ nature of my business being exhibited by a profound

silence I raised my voice as Mause Headrigg said, “like a pelican in

the wilderness:”

“Col. Frankland, I must get forward on this train to-night. Government

business requires me to be in Richmond by the 1st November.”

“Can’t do it, Madam. Would like to oblige you, but can’t go against my

orders. The cars are for the use of sick and wounded soldiers alone.”

_None but the fair deserve the brave._

“But Col. Frankland, hundreds of invalids are waiting for their

breakfast, dinner and supper in Richmond. I am the matron of ——

hospital.”

“Can’t help it, Madam! If you men there don’t keep away from this

platform and leave a passage way, I’ll put the front rank under arrest!”

“Oh! Col. Frankland, cannot I stand on the platform, if I am not

allowed to use the cars?”

“No, Madam, it would be dangerous. Sorry to refuse.”

“Let me go in the freight train.”

“There is no freight train.”

“Well, the box cars? I take very little room.”

“They are crowded, Madam, crowded. Keep off, men, keep off there!”

The steam blew and whistled fearfully and the bell clanged an uproar

of sound. A passing car came rushing by and my courage was oozing

fast. “Try him agin!” said my Irish friend, who unable to get near me,

shouted his secret.

_Importance of Hair-Pins._

“Oh! Col. Frankland, excuse my pertinacity, but what _can_ I do? Let

me go on in the mail car! I will not even open my eyes to look at the

outside of the letters.”

“Against the law. Cannot be done. How can I infringe upon my orders?

Will no one keep those confounded men off?”

“_I will_, Col. Frankland, if you will let me get up by your side. I

will keep every single man away. Now men, keep off, I beg of you, for I

must get to Richmond, and moreover, I wear very long hair-pins.”

“Thank you, Madam, thank you. Now men, you hear what this lady says,

and I know she will be as good as her word.” A hundred hands helped

me up. I looked for my friend the red-nosed Irishman, but he was

gone. Another moment and my friend stood by my side, assisted by the

Irishman, who tipped me a comprehensive wink which set my mind at rest

as regarded the safety of my trunk.

“This is not fair,” said the Colonel. “You promised that no one should

get on.”

“Oh, no, I promised that not a _single man_ should do so. This is a

woman. Will you let her husband join her? He is not a _single_ man, for

he has a wife and nine children!”

The result may be imagined. Our party, very much relieved, were soon

inside, where we found four comfortable seats reserved for Gen.

Beauregard and staff, which were unoccupied from those gentlemen being

detained at Macon.

_Another Attempt._

At that city, where we were compelled to pass the night, the same state

of things existed, and with depressed spirits I drove to the cars to

see if any arrangement could be effected by which I could pursue my

journey. The road would not be opened to the traveling public for

a month, so an effort had to be made. An appeal to the authorities

resulted as I expected, in defeat, so I again tried my manœuver of

trying to interest subordinates.

Failing, however, and baffled at every turn, while sitting again upon

my trunk, the mail agent, standing in the doorway of his car, caught

my eye. Improving the opportunity, I commenced a conversation, ending

in an insinuating appeal to be taken into the mail box. Success and

installation in his little square domicil followed, and my friend,

passing out without any explanation, locked the door on the outside.

There were no windows and no light whatever; the hour six in the

evening.

_Frightened at Last._

Seated in loneliness and darkness till the town clock struck eight,

every fear that could arise in the brain of a silly woman assailed

me. Did the train I was in go to Augusta, and if not, would I be left

where I was all night? Was the man who locked me up the mail agent?

If he came back and robbed and murdered me, would any one ever miss

me? Having had nothing to eat but a couple of biscuits in twenty-four

hours, and my brain being, in consequence, proportionately light,

imagination seized the reins from common sense, which fled in the

presence of utter darkness and loneliness.

At last the key turned in the lock, and the light of a lantern

dispelled some of my terrors. The cars started and the agent commenced

sorting his letters, first bolting us in securely. A couple of hours

passed and my mind was gradually losing its tone of unpleasant doubt

as to the wisdom of my proceedings, when my busy companion knocked off

work and essayed to play the agreeable. He was communicative in the

extreme, giving me his biography, which proved him to be a Connecticut

man, and very much dissatisfied with the Confederacy, particularly

with the state of the money market. So long as he kept to his

personal recollections all was right, but he soon claimed a return of

confidence, and grew hourly more patronizing and conversational. His

tone and manner, the loneliness of the position, and the impossibility

of any fortunate interruption occurring becoming unbearable at last,

there is no knowing what I might have ventured to do, in the way of

breaking out, if the cars had not fortunately run off the track.

_All’s well that ends well._

On we bumped, happily on level ground, for two minutes or more; the

engineer entirely unconscious of the fact and no way of communicating

with him, as the soldiers were lying over the rope on the top of

the cars, so that pulling was in vain. At last a pause, and then a

crowd, and then a familiar name was called, most welcome to my ears.

I repeated it aloud until the owner was by my side, and the rest of

the night was spent in asking questions and receiving information. At

daylight he left me to rejoin his command, while we continued on to

Augusta.

As usual, when we arrived there no vehicle of any kind met us at the

depot, but being the only woman in the cars, the mail driver offered

me a seat upon the mail-bags, and as it was raining I accepted, and in

this august style reached the hotel by breakfast time. All military

suspension ceased here, but there was detention for two hours, and this

was enlivened by an amusing episode at the depot.

_Up-country Georgia Eloquence._

Directly in front of me sat an old Georgia up-country woman, placidly

regarding the box cars full of men on the parallel rails, waiting like

ourselves to start. She knitted and gazed, and at last inquired “who

was them ar soldiers, and whar was they a-going to?” The information

that they were Yankee prisoners startled her considerably. The knitting

ceased abruptly (all the old women in the Southern States knitted socks

for the soldiers while traveling), and the Cracker bonnet of dark brown

homespun was thrown back violently, for her whole nervous system seemed

to have received a galvanic shock. Then she caught her breath with a

long gasp, lifted on high her thin, trembling hand, accompanied by the

trembling voice, and made them a speech:

“Ain’t you ashamed of you-uns,” she piped, “a-coming down here

a-spiling our country, and a-robbing our hen-roosts? What did we ever

do to you-uns that you should come a-killing our brothers and sons?

Ain’t you ashamed of you-uns? What for do you want us to live with

you-uns, you poor white trash? I ain’t got a single nigger that would

be so mean as to force himself where he warn’t wanted, and what do

we-uns want with you? Ain’t you——” but here came a roar of laughter

from both cars, and shaking with excitement the old lady pulled down

her spectacles, which in the excitement she had pushed up on her

forehead, and tried in vain to resume her labors with uncertain fingers.

_General Desolation._

From here to Richmond there occurred the usual detentions and trials

of railroad travel under the existing circumstances. The windows of

the cars were broken out in many places. Sometimes no fire for want of

stoves, and the nights damp and chilly. All in utter darkness, for the

lamps were gone, and could they have been replaced, there would have

been no oil.

_A Woman has an Opinion._

We crawled along, stopping every hour almost, to tinker up some

part of the car or the road, getting out at times when the conductor

announced that the travelers must walk “a spell or two,” meaning from

one to five miles. Crowds of women were getting in and out all the way,

the male passengers grumbling aloud that “women had better stay at

home, they had no business to be running around in such times.” This

was said so often that it became very unpleasant, till the tables were

turned early one morning at Gainsborough, when a large-sized female

made her way along the center of the car, looking from right to left in

the vain search for a seat. None being vacant, she stopped short, and

addressed the astonished male passengers with more vigor than elegance:

“What for pity sake do you men mean by running all around the country

for, instead of staying in the field, as you ought to do? You keep

filling up the cars so that a woman can’t attend to her business. Your

place should be opposite the enemy.” This diversion on our behalf was

received silently, but many seats were soon vacated by their occupants

on the plea of “taking a little smoke.”

_Beaten at Last._

At last, the 1st of November found me weary, hungry, cold and exhausted

by travel at the Richmond depot, four hours after schedule time; with

that most terrible scourge, a bad, nervous headache racking me all

over. The crowd around was immense, so that by the time it opened and

dispersed sufficiently to let me make my way through, every vehicle had

left, if there had ever been any there before. As usual, my telegram

had not been received, so there was no one to meet me, and pain

rendering me indifferent to appearances I quietly spread my shawl upon

a bench and myself upon it. For how long I cannot say, but I was roused

by a voice asking what I wanted, and what was the matter? “Any kind

of a vehicle to take me home,” was the answer. After a few moments’

delay my new friend returned with the information that there was only

a market cart, which if I was willing to ride in, was for hire. If it

had been a hearse it would have been hailed with welcome. My two trunks

were put on, and I was deposited on them. The hour, eleven at night.

_One of our Future Presidents._

I looked first at the horse. He had a shadowy gray skin stretched

over his prominent bones, and in the dim, misty light, seemed a mere

phantom. The driver next came under observation. A little dried-up,

gray black, old darkey, with a brown rag tied around his head, but like

all his species he was kindly disposed and respectful. Directions were

given him to drive to a friend’s house. He said that his horse was too

tired, but if I were willing, he had another “at his place,” where he

would drive me and change.

Quite willing, or rather too weary to assert any authority, so on

we rumbled and rattled almost twice the distance I was first bound,

changed one skeleton for another, and started again for my friend’s

house. At last the blessed haven was reached, but the sight of a new

face to my summons at the door made my heart sink. She had “moved

yesterday.”

“Drive to Miss G.’s house,” was my next direction, intending to throw

myself upon her hospitality and charity for the night, for we were out

of the way of all hotels.

The same result on application. Had all Richmond moved? The fresh air,

and the necessity for exertion in this novel position had routed my

headache, and now gave me courage to make a proposition I hadn’t dared

to make before.

_Compromises._

“Could not you drive me to the hospital on the hill?” was my demand

made in most ingratiating tones.

The old man untied the rag from off his head, and smoothed it on his

knee by way of ironing out the creases and assisting reflection;

replaced it, taking up the reins again before he answered, for we were

now at a stand-still at the Broad street hill.

“Missis,” said he solemnly, “de way it is long, and de bridges dey is

rotten; but ef you is not afeared to dribe ober dem by you-self, and

let me git out, and pay me ten dollars, de ole hoss might be consarned

to go up dis yere hill.”

The bargain was struck, and the hospital reached after midnight. The

key of my apartments sent for, when the duplicate hair that at last

broke the camel’s back was laid upon mine.

“Miss G. had taken it with her.”

“Bring a carpenter,” I cried desperately; “and tell him to get a

sledge-hammer and knock down, or in, anything that will let me get into

the place. I _must_ have rest.”

The door was broken open; a fire was kindled; a delicious piece of

cold hard corn-bread found and devoured, and when the warm covering of

the first bed I had slept in for ten days was drawn around me, all the

troubles of a hard world melted away, and the only real happiness on

earth, entire exemption from mental and bodily pain, took possession of

me.

————

_And Comparisons._

I noticed on my return a great difference in the means of living

between Virginia and the Gulf States. Even in the most wealthy and

luxurious houses in Richmond, former everyday comforts had about this

time become luxuries, and had been dispensed with earlier in the war.

Farther south, they still received from Nassau what they needed, always

running the risks of losing the cargoes of the blockade-runners,

therefore duplicating orders. Tea and coffee were first given up at

the capital, then many used corn flour,—wheat was so high. Gradually

butter disappeared from the breakfast table, and brown sugar when

it reached twenty dollars a pound shared the same fate. But no such

economy appeared necessary where I had been. The air of the people in

the cars and around the railroad stations was hopeful in the extreme.

There was no doubt expressed even at this late day, the November of

1864, as to the ultimate success of the Southern cause.

Their hospitals though did not compare with those I had left in

Virginia, either in arrangement, cleanliness or attendance. Even as

early as 1862 the matrons’ places there had been filled by ladies of

education and refinement; but this with a few exceptions had been the

rule in Virginia only, and such supervision made a marked difference,

as may be supposed.

_Entire Resumption._

During my absence, the greater portion of the patients I had left a

month previously had either recovered and left, or died, so that it

was awkward to resume my duties among strangers. A few days’ visiting

rectified this however. The happiest welcome I got was from Miss G.,

who resigned the key of the liquor closet with a sigh which spoke

volumes. From what could be gathered, she had been equal to the

occasion, and knowing the hardships of her dragonship I did not press

her strenuously upon points connected with it.

_Christmas Festivities._

The health of the army was now so good, that except when the wounded

were sent in, we were comparatively idle. That terrible scourge,

pneumonia, so prevalent early in the war, and so fatal in its typhoid

form, had almost disappeared. The men had become accustomed and inured

to exposure. Christmas passed pleasantly. The hospital fund (from the

great depreciation of the money) being too small to allow us to make

much festive preparation, the ladies of the city drove out in carriages

and ambulances laden with good things. The previous years we had been

enabled to give out of the expenditure of our own funds a bowl of

egg-nogg and a slice of cake, for lunch, to every man in the hospital,

as well as his portion of turkey and oysters for dinner; but times were

more stringent now.

_Discussions regarding the Hero._

Soon after New Year, 1865, some members of the committee on hospital

affairs called to see me, desirous of getting some information

regarding the use or abuse of liquor, before the bill for the

appropriations for the coming year would be introduced. There were

doubts afloat as to whether the benefit conferred upon the patients by

the use of stimulants counterbalanced the evil effects they produced

on the surgeons, who were in the habit of making use of them when they

could get them.

The problem was difficult to solve. A case in point had lately come

under my observation. A man had been brought into our hospital with a

crushed ankle, the cars having run over it. He had been attended to,

and the leg put in splints before we had received him, so as he was

still heavy and drowsy, possibly from some anodyne administered, the

surgeon in attendance ordered him to be left undisturbed. The nurse in

a few hours came to me to say that the man was suffering intensely.

He had a burning fever, and complained of the fellow leg instead of

the injured one. The natural idea of sympathy occurred, and a sedative

given which failed in producing any effect. I determined to look at it

in spite of orders, his sufferings appearing so great, and finding the

foot and leg above and below the splint perfectly well, the thought

of examining the fellow leg suggested itself. It was a most shocking

sight—swollen, inflamed and purple—the drunken surgeon had set the

wrong leg! The pain induced low fever, which eventually assumed a

typhoid form, and the man died. With this instance fresh in my memory

I hesitated to give any opinion in favor, and yet felt we could not

manage without the liquor. However, the appropriation was made.

_Scribbled Eggs and Flitters._

This poor fellow was the most dependent patient I ever had, and though

entirely uneducated, won his way to my sympathies by his entire

helplessness and belief in the efficacy of my care and advice. No

surgeon in the hospital could persuade him to swallow anything in the

shape of food unless I sanctioned the order, and a few kindly words, or

an encouraging nod would satisfy and please him. His ideas of luxuries

were curious, and his answer to my daily inquiries of what he could

fancy for food, was invariably the same—he would like some “scribbled

eggs and flitters.” This order was complied with three times daily,

until the doctor prescribed stronger food and though many dainties

were substituted, he still called them by the same name, leading me to

suppose that “scribbled eggs and flitters” was his generic term for

food.

_Un-chew-able Food._

I made him some jelly—Confederate jelly—with the substitution of

whiskey for Madeira wine, and citric acid for lemons, but he said “he

did not like it, there was no chewing on it,” and “it all went, he did

not know where!” so I gave up trying to tempt his palate.

————

_Culinary Mortifications._

When whole wards would be emptied of their occupants, in compliance

with changes made to suit certain views of the surgical department, and

strangers put in, I would always feel a great repugnance to visiting

them. But when the change became gradual, by the convalescents, in

twos or threes or half-dozens, being exchanged for invalids, there

would always be enough men left to whom I was known, to make me feel

at home, and to inform the newcomers why I came among them, and what

my duties were. I now found my hospital filled with strangers. They

were not so considerate as my old friends had been, and looked rather

with suspicion upon my daily visits. One man amused me particularly by

keeping a portion of his food every day for my special and agreeable

inspection, as he thought, and my particular annoyance, as I felt. A

specimen of everything he thought unpalatable was deposited under his

pillow, to await my arrival, and the greeting invariably given me was:

“Do you call that good bread?”

“Well no, not very good: but the flour is very dark and musty.”

Another day he would draw out a handfull of dry rice.

“Do you call _that_ properly boiled?”

“That is the way we boil rice in Carolina. Each grain must be

separated.”

“Well! I won’t eat mine boiled that way.”

_Pickles_ versus _Homespun._

And so on through all the details of his food. Somebody he felt

was responsible, and unfortunately he determined that I should be

the scapegoat. His companion who laid by his side was even more

disagreeable than he was. Being a terrible pickle consumer, he indulged

in such extreme dissipation in that luxury that a check had to be

put upon his appetite. He attacked me upon this grievance the first

chance he found, and listened scornfully to my remarks that pickles

were luxuries to be eaten sparingly and used carefully. “Perhaps,”

he said at last, “we would have more pickles if you had fewer new

dresses.” There was no doubt that I wore a new homespun dress, but what

connection it had with the pickles was rather mysterious. However, that

afternoon came a formal apology, written in quite an elegant style, and

signed by every man in the ward, except the pickle man, in which the

fault of this cruel speech was laid upon the bad whiskey.

————

_Beginning of the End._

All this winter of ’64, the city had been unusually gay. Besides

parties, private theatricals and tableaux were constantly exhibited.

Wise and thoughtful men disapproved openly of this mad gayety. There

was certainly a painful discrepancy between the excitement of dancing

and the rumble of ambulances that could be heard in the momentary lull

of the music, carrying the wounded to the different hospitals. Young

men advocated this state of affairs, arguing that after the fatigues

and dangers of a campaign in the field, some relaxation was necessary

on their visits to the capital.

To thinking people this recklessness was ominous; and by the end of

February, 1865, it began to be felt by them that all was not as safe

as it was supposed to be. The incessant moving of troops through the

city from one point to another proved weakness, and the scarcity of

rations issued told a painful tale. People rated the inefficiency

of the commissary department, and predicted that a change in its

administration would make all right. Soon afterwards the truth was told

me in confidence and under promise of strict secresy. Richmond would

be evacuated in a month or six weeks. The time might be lengthened or

shortened, but the fact was established.

_Agitations._

Then came the packing up, quietly but surely, of the different

departments. Requisitions on the medical purveyor were returned

unfilled, and an order from the surgeon-general required that herbs

instead of licensed medicines should be used in the hospitals. There

was a great deal of merriment elicited from the “yarb teas,” drawn

during this time by the surgeons; few knowing the sad cause of their

substitution. My mind had been very unsettled as to my course of action

in view of the impending crash, but my duty prompted me to remain with

my sick, on the ground that no general ever deserts his troops. But

to be left by all my friends to meet the dangers and privations of an

invested city, among antagonistic influences, with the prospect of

being turned out of my office the next day after the surrender, was not

a cheering one. Even my home would no longer be open to me; for staying

with a cabinet minister, he would leave with the government. I was

spared the necessity of decision by the sudden attack of General Grant,

and the breaking of the Confederate lines, and before there was time to

think at all, the government and all its train had vanished.

————

_History._

On the 2nd of April, 1865, while the congregation of Dr. Minnegarode’s

church in Richmond were listening to his Sunday sermon, a messenger

entered and handed a telegram to Mr. Davis, then president of the

Confederate States, who rose immediately, and without any visible signs

of agitation or surprise, left the church. No alarm was exhibited

by the congregation, though several members of the president’s

staff followed him, till Dr. Minnegarode brought the service to an

abrupt close, and informed his started flock that the city would be

evacuated shortly, and they would only exercise a proper degree of

prudence by going home immediately, and preparing for the event. This

announcement, although coming from such a reliable source, hardly

availed to convince the Virginians that their beloved capital, assailed

so often, defended so bravely, surrounded by fortifications on which

the engineering talents of their best officers had been expended, was

to be capitulated. Some months before, a small number admitted behind

the vail of the temple had been apprised that the sacrifice was to be

accomplished; that General Lee had again and again urged Mr. Davis to

yield this Mecca of his heart to the interests of the Confederacy, and

resign a city which required an army to hold it, and pickets to be

posted from thirty to forty miles around it, weakening his depleted

army; and again and again had the iron will triumphed, and the foe,

beaten and discomfited, retired for fresh combinations and fresh troops.

But the hour had come, and the evacuation was only a question of time.

Day and night had the whistle of cars proved to the anxious people that

brigades were being moved to strengthen this point or defend that;

and no one was able to say exactly where any portion of the army of

Virginia was stationed. That Grant would make an effort to strike the

South-side railroad—the main artery for the conveyance of food to the

city—every one _knew_; and that General Lee would be able to meet the

effort and check it, everybody _hoped_, and while this hope lasted

there was no panic.

The telegram which reached Mr. Davis that Sunday morning, was to the

effect that the enemy _had_ struck, and on the weakest point of the

Confederate lines. It told him to be prepared in event of the repulse

failing. Two hours after came the fatal news that Grant had forced

his way through, and that the city must instantly be evacuated. What

is meant by that simple sentence “evacuation of the city” but few can

imagine who have not experienced it. The officials of the various

departments hurried to their offices, speedily packing up everything

connected with the government. The quartermaster’s and commissary’s

stores were thrown open and thousands of the half-starved and half-clad

people of Richmond rushed to the scene.

_Picture of the Times._

Delicate women tottered under the weight of hams, bags of coffee, flour

and sugar. Invalided officers carried away articles of unaccustomed

luxury for sick wives and children at home. Every vehicle was in

requisition, commanding fabulous remuneration, and gold or silver the

only currency accepted. The immense concourse of government employes,

speculators, gamblers, strangers, pleasure and profit lovers of all

kinds that had been attached to that great center, the Capital, were

“packing,” while those who had determined to stay and await the chances

of war, tried to look calmly on, and draw courage from their faith in

the justness of their cause.

_The Departure._

The wives and families of Mr. Davis and his cabinet had been sent

away some weeks previously, so that no provision had been made for the

transportation of any particular class of people. All the cars that

could be collected were at the Fredericksburg depot, and by 3 o’clock

P. M. the trains commenced to move. The scene at the station was of

indescribable confusion. No one could afford to abandon any article of

wear or household use, when going where they knew that nothing could

be replaced. Baggage was as valuable as life, and life was represented

there by wounded and sick officers and men, helpless women and

children, for all who could be with the army were at their post.

Hour after hour fled and still the work went on. The streets were

strewn with torn papers, records and documents too burdensome to

carry away, too important to be left for inspection, and people still

thronged the thoroughfares, loaded with stores until then hoarded by

the government and sutler shops.

The scream and rumble of the cars never ceased all that weary night,

and was perhaps the most painful sound to those left behind, for all

the rest of the city seemed flying; but while the center of Richmond

was in the wildest confusion, so sudden had been the shock that the

suburbs were quiet and even ignorant of the scenes enacting in the

heart of the city. Events crowded so rapidly upon each other that no

one had time to spread reports.

_Burning of the City._

There was no change in the appearance of the surroundings till near

midnight, when the school-ship, the _Patrick Henry_, formerly the old

United States ship _Yorktown_, was fired at the wharf at Rocketts

(the extreme eastern end of the city). The blowing up of her magazine

seemed the signal for the work of destruction to commence. Explosions

followed from all points. The warehouses and tobacco manufactories

were fired, communicating the flames to the adjacent houses and shops,

and soon Main street was in a blaze. The armory, not intended to be

burnt, either caught accidentally or was fired by mistake; the shells

exploding and filling the air with hissing sounds of horror, menacing

the people in every direction. Colonel Gorgas had endeavored to spike

or destroy them by rolling them into the canal, and but for this

precaution with the largest, the city would have been almost leveled

to the dust.

_Last Scenes._

No one slept during that night of horror, for added to the present

scenes were the anticipations of what the morrow would bring forth.

Daylight dawned upon a wreck of destruction and desolation. From the

highest point of Church hill and Libby hill, the eye could range over

the whole extent of city and country—the fire had not abated, and

the burning bridges were adding their flame and smoke to the scene.

A single faint explosion could be heard from the distance at long

intervals, but the _Patrick Henry_ was low to the water’s edge and

Drewry but a column of smoke. The whistle of the cars and the rushing

of the laden trains still continued—they had never ceased—and the

clouds hung low and draped the scene as morning advanced.

_Taking Possession._

Before the sun had risen, two carriages rolled along Main street, and

passed through Rocketts just under Chimborazo hospital, carrying the

mayor and corporation towards the Federal lines, to deliver the keys

of the city, and half an hour afterwards, over to the east, a single

Federal blue-jacket rose above the hill, standing transfixed with

astonishment at what he saw. Another and another sprang up as if out

of the earth, but still all remained quiet. About seven o’clock, there

fell upon the ear the steady clatter of horses’ hoofs, and winding

around Rocketts, close under Chimborazo hill, came a small and compact

body of Federal cavalrymen, on horses in splendid condition, riding

closely and steadily along. They were well mounted, well accoutered,

well fed—a rare sight in Southern streets,—the advance of that vaunted

army that for four years had so hopelessly knocked at the gates of the

Southern Confederacy.

_Entrance of the Federal Army_

They were some distance in advance of the infantry who followed, quite

as well appointed and accoutered as the cavalry. Company after company,

regiment after regiment, battalion after battalion, and brigade after

brigade, they poured into the doomed city—an endless stream. One

detachment separated from the main body and marching to Battery No. 2,

raised the United States flag, their band playing the Star Spangled

Banner. There they stacked their arms. The rest marched along Main

street through fire and smoke, over burning fragments of buildings,

emerging at times like a phantom army when the wind lifted the dark

clouds; while the colored population shouted and cheered them on their

way.

Before three hours had elapsed, the troops had been quartered and were

inspecting the city. They swarmed in every highway and byway, rose out

of gullies, appeared on the top of hills, emerged from narrow lanes,

and skirted around low fences. There was hardly a spot in Richmond not

occupied by a blue coat, but they were orderly, quiet and respectful.

Thoroughly disciplined, warned not to give offense by look or act, they

did not speak to any one unless first addressed; and though the women

of the South contrasted with sickness of heart the difference between

this splendidly-equipped army, and the war-worn, wasted aspect of their

own defenders, they were grateful for the consideration shown them; and

if they remained in their sad homes, with closed doors and windows,

or walked the streets with averted eyes and vailed faces, it was that

they could not bear the presence of invaders, even under the most

favorable circumstances.

_Occupation of the City._

Before the day was over, the public buildings were occupied by the

enemy, and the minds of the citizens relieved from all fear of

molestation. The hospitals were attended to, the ladies being still

allowed to nurse and care for their own wounded; but rations could

not be drawn yet, the obstructions in the James river preventing the

transports from coming up to the city. In a few days they arrived, and

food was issued to those in need. It had been a matter of pride among

the Southerners to boast that they had never seen a greenback, so the

entrance of the Federal army had thus found them entirely unprepared

with gold and silver currency. People who had boxes of Confederate

money and were wealthy the day previously, looked around in vain for

wherewithal to buy a loaf of bread. Strange exchanges were made on the

street of tea and coffee, flour and bacon. Those who were fortunate in

having a stock of household necessaries were generous in the extreme to

their less wealthy neighbors, but the destitution was terrible.

The sanitary commission shops were opened, and commissioners appointed

by the Federals to visit among the people and distribute orders to draw

rations, but to effect this, after receiving tickets, required so many

appeals to different officials, that decent people gave up the effort.

Besides, the musty corn-meal and strong cod-fish were not appreciated

by fastidious stomachs—few gently nurtured could relish such unfamiliar

food.

_Amusements Furnished._

But there was no assimilation between the invaders and invaded. In

the daily newspaper a notice had appeared that the military bands

would play in the beautiful capital grounds every afternoon, but when

the appointed hour arrived, except the Federal officers, musicians

and soldiers, not a white face was to be seen. The negroes crowded

every bench and path. The next week another notice was issued that

the colored population would not be admitted; and then the absence

of everything and anything feminine was appalling. The entertainers

went alone to their own entertainment. The third week still another

notice appeared: “colored nurses were to be admitted with their white

charges,” and lo! each fortunate white baby received the cherished care

of a dozen finely-dressed black ladies, the only drawback being that in

two or three days the music ceased altogether, the entertainers feeling

at last the ingratitude of the subjugated people.

_Wicked Ingratitude._

Despite their courtesy of manner, for however despotic the acts, the

Federal authorities maintained a respectful manner—the newcomers made

no advance towards fraternity. They spoke openly and warmly of their

sympathy with the sufferings of the South, but committed and advocated

acts that the hearers could not recognize as “military necessities.”

Bravely-dressed Federal officers met their former old class-mates from

colleges and military institutions and inquired after the relatives to

whose houses they had ever been welcome in days of yore, expressing a

desire to “call and see them,” while the vacant chairs, rendered vacant

by Federal bullets, stood by the hearth of the widow and bereaved

mother. They could not be made to understand that their presence was

painful. There were few men in the city at this time; but the women of

the South still fought their battle for them: fought it resentfully,

calmly, but silently! Clad in their mourning garments, overcome but

hardly subdued, they sat within their desolate homes, or if compelled

to leave that shelter went on their errands to church or hospital with

vailed faces and swift steps. By no sign or act did the possessors of

their fair city know that they were even conscious of their presence.

If they looked in their faces they saw them not: they might have

supposed themselves a phantom army. There was no stepping aside with

affectation to avoid the contact of dress, no feigned humility in

giving the inside of the walk: they simply totally ignored their

presence.

_Circus and Pictorial Food._

Two particular characteristics followed the army in possession—the

circus and booths for the temporary accommodation of itinerant venders.

The small speculators must have supposed that there were no means of

cooking left in the city, from the quantity of canned edibles they

offered for sale. They inundated Richmond with pictorial canisters at

exorbitant prices, which no one had money to buy. Whether the supply of

greenbacks was scant, or the people were not disposed to trade with

the new-comers, they had no customers.

_Distinguished Visitors._

In a few days steamboats had made their way to the wharves, though

the obstructions still defied the ironclads, and crowds of curious

strangers thronged the pavements, while squads of mounted male

pleasure-seekers scoured the streets. Gayly-dressed women began to

pour in also, with looped-up skirts, very large feet, and a great

preponderance of spectacles. The Richmond women sitting by desolated

firesides were astonished by the arrival of former friends, sometimes

people moving in the best classes of society, who had the bad taste

to make a pleasure trip to the mourning city, calling upon their

heart-broken friends of happier days in all the finery of the newest

New York fashions, and in some instances forgiving their entertainers

the manifold sins of the last four years in formal and set terms.

_Miracles._

From the hill on which my hospital was built, I had sat all the weary

Sunday of the evacuation, watching the turmoil, and bidding friends

adieu, for even till noon many had been unconscious of the events

that were transpiring, and now when they had all departed, as night

set in, I wrapped my blanket-shawl around me, and watched below me

all that I have here narrated. Then I walked through my wards and

found them comparatively empty. Every man who could crawl had tried

to escape a Northern prison. Beds in which paralyzed, rheumatic, and

helpless patients had laid for months were empty. The miracles of the

New Testament had been re-enacted. The lame, the halt, and the blind

had been cured. Those who were compelled to remain were almost wild at

being left in what would be the enemy’s lines the next day; for in many

instances they had been exchanged prisoners only a short time before.

I gave all the comfort I could, and with some difficulty their supper

also, for my detailed nurses had gone with General Lee’s army, and my

black cooks had deserted me.

_Left “alone in my glory.”_

On Monday morning, the day after the evacuation, the first blue

uniforms appeared at our quarters—three surgeons inspecting the

hospital. As our surgeon was with them, there must have been an

amicable understanding. One of our divisions was required for use by

the new-comers, cleared out for them, and their patients laid by the

side of our own sick so that we shared with them, as my own commissary

stores were still well supplied. Three days afterwards an order came to

transfer my old patients to Camp Jackson. I protested bitterly against

this, as they were not in a fit state for removal, so they remained

unmolested. To them I devoted my time, for our surgeons had either then

left or received orders to discontinue their labors.

Towards evening the place was deserted. Miss G. had remained up to this

time with me, but her mother requiring her presence in the city, she

left at sunset, and after I had gone through all my wards, I returned

to my dear little sitting-room, endeared by retrospection, and the

consciousness that my labors were nearly over, but had been (as far as

regarded results) in vain!

_Hero re-appears._

The Federal authorities had as yet posted no guards around, and as our

own had been withdrawn, or rather had left, being under no control or

direction, not a sound broke the stillness of the sad night. Exhausted

with all the exciting events of the day, it was not to be wondered at

that I soon fell asleep heavily and dreamlessly, to be awakened in an

hour by the crash of an adjoining door, and passing into my pantry from

whence the sound proceeded I came upon a group of men, who had burst

the entrance opening upon the back premises. As my eye traveled from

face to face, I recognized them as a set of “hospital rats” whom I had

never been able to get rid of, for if sent to the field one week, they

would be sure to be back the next, on some trifling pretext of sickness

or disability. The ringleader was an old enemy, who had stored up many

a grievance against me, but my acts of kindness to his sickly wife

naturally made me suppose his wrath had been disarmed. He acted on this

occasion as spokesman, and the trouble was the old one. Thirty gallons

of whiskey had been sent to me the day before the evacuation, and they

wanted it.

“We have come for the whiskey!”

“You cannot, and shall not have it.”

“It does not belong to you.”

“It is in my charge, and I intend to keep it. Go out of my pantry; you

are all drunk.”

“Boys!” he said, “pick up that barrel and carry it down the hill. I

will attend to _her_!”

_Noli me tangere._

But the habit of obedience of four years still had its effect on the

boys, for all the movement they made was in a retrograde direction.

“Wilson,” I said, “you have been in this hospital a long time. Do you

think from what you know of me that the whiskey can be taken without my

consent?”

He became very insolent.

“Stop that talk; your great friends have all gone, and we won’t stand

that now. Move out of the way!”

He advanced towards the barrel, and so did I, only being in the inside,

I interposed between him and the object of contention. The fierce

temper blazed up in his face, and catching me roughly by the shoulder,

he called me a name that a decent woman seldom hears and even a wicked

one resents.

But I had a little friend, which usually reposed quietly on the shelf,

but had been removed to my pocket in the last twenty-four hours, more

from a sense of protection than from any idea that it would be called

into active service; so before he had time to push me one inch from

my position, or to see what kind of an ally was in my hand, that sharp

click, a sound so significant and so different from any other, struck

upon his ear, and sent him back amidst his friends, pale and shaken.

_Victory Perches on my Banner._

“You had better leave,” I said, composedly (for I felt in my feminine

soul that although I was near enough to pinch his nose, that I had

missed him), “for if _one_ bullet is lost, there are five more ready,

and the room is too small for even a woman to miss six times.”

There was a conference held at the shattered door, resulting in an

agreement to leave, but he shook his fist wrathfully at my small

pop-gun.

“You think yourself very brave now, but wait an hour; perhaps others

may have pistols too, and you won’t have it entirely your way after

all.”

My first act was to take the head of one of the flour barrels and nail

it across the door as tightly as I could, with a two-pound weight for

a hammer, and then, warm with triumph and victory gained, I sat down

by my whiskey barrel and felt the affection we all bestow on what we

have cherished, fought for, and defended successfully; then putting a

candle, a box of matches, and a pistol within reach of my hand, I went

to sleep, never waking until late in the morning, having heard nothing

more of my visitors.

_Confederate Full Dress._

The next day the steward informed me that our stores had been taken

possession of by the Federal authorities, so we could not draw the

necessary rations. The surgeons had all left; therefore I prepared for

a visit to headquarters, by donning my full-dress toilette: boots of

untanned leather, tied with thongs; a Georgia woven homespun dress in

black and white blocks—the white, cotton yarn, the black, an old silk,

washed, scraped with broken glass into pulp, and then carded and spun

(it was an elegant thing); white cuffs and collar of bleached homespun,

and a hat plaited of the rye straw picked from the field back of us,

dyed black with walnut juice, a shoe-string for ribbon to encircle

it; and knitted worsted gloves of three shades of green—the darkest

bottle shade being around the wrist, while the color tapered to the

loveliest blossom of the pea at the finger-tips. The style of the make

was Confederate.

_Casus belli._

Thus splendidly equipped I walked to Dr. M.’s office, now Federal

headquarters, and making my way through a crowd of blue coats, accosted

the principal figure seated there, with a stern and warlike demand for

food, and a curt inquiry whether it was their intention to starve their

captured sick. He was very polite, laid the blame on the obstructions

in the river, which prevented their transports getting up. I requested

that as such was the case I might be allowed to reclaim my ambulance,

now under their lock and key, in order to take some coffee then in my

possession to the city and exchange it for animal food. It had been

saved from rations formerly drawn, and donations given. He wished to

know why it had not been turned over to the U. S. government, but

did not press the point as I was not communicative, and gave me the

necessary order for the vehicle. Then polite conversation commenced.

_The Law of Nations._

“Was I a native of Virginia?”

“No; I was a South Carolinian, who had gone to Virginia at the

commencement of the war to try and aid in alleviating the sufferings

and privations of the hospitals.”

“He had lost a brother in South Carolina.”

“It was the fate of war. Self-preservation was the first law of nature.

As a soldier he must recognize defense of one’s native soil.”

“He regretted the present state of scarcity, for he could see in the

pale faces and pinched features of the Richmond women, how much they

had suffered during the war.”