"There was great joy in the encampment last week, at the

announcement of the arrival of a train of cars from Bridgeport. You

at home can have little appreciation of the feelings of the men as

that sound greeted their ears. Our poor soldiers had been reduced

to half and quarter rations for weeks, and those of the poorest

quality. The mules had fallen by the wayside from very starvation.

You cannot go a mile in any direction without seeing these animals

lying dead from starvation--and this state of things had to

continue until the railroad was finished to Chattanooga, and the

cars could bring in sustenance for man and beast. You will not

wonder then at the huzzas of the men in the hospitals and camps, as

the whistle of the long looked for train was heard.

"The most harrowing scenes are daily witnessed here. A wife came on

yesterday only to learn that her dear husband had died the morning

previous. Her lamentations were heart-breaking. 'Why could he not

have lived until I came? Why?' In the evening came a sister, whose

aged parents had sent her to search for their only son. She also

came too late. The brother had gone to the soldier's grave two days

previous. One continued wail of sorrow goes up from all parts of

this stricken land.

"I have protracted this letter, I fear, until you are weary. I

write in great haste, not knowing how to take the time from

pressing duties which call me everywhere. Yours, etc.,

"ELIZA C. PORTER."

In illustration of her services at this time, and of the undercurrent of

terror and sadness of this triumphal march, we can do no better than to

give some extracts from her journal, kept during this period, and

published without her knowledge in the Sanitary Commission Bulletin. It

was commenced on the 15th of May, 1864, as she was following Mrs.

Bickerdyke to Ringgold, Georgia. Together they arrived at Sugar Creek,

where but two miles distant the battle was raging, and spent the night

at General Logan's headquarters, within hearing of its terrific sounds.

All night, and all day Sunday, they passed thus, not being permitted to

go upon the field, but caring for the wounded as rapidly as possible, as

they were brought to the rear. She says:

"The wounded were brought into hospitals, quickly and roughly prepared

in the forest, as near the field as safety would permit. What a scene

was presented! Precious sons of northern mothers, beloved husbands of

northern wives were already here to undergo amputation, to have wounds

probed and dressed, or broken limbs set and bandaged. Some were writhing

under the surgeon's knife, but bore their sufferings bravely and

uncomplainingly. There were many whose wounds were considered slight,

such as a shot through the hand, arm, or leg, which but for the contrast

with severer cases, would seem dreadful. Never was the presence of women

more joyfully welcomed. It was touching to see those precious boys

looking up into our faces with such hope and gladness. It brought to

their minds mother and home, as each testified, while his wounds were

being dressed; 'This seems a little like having mother about,' was the

reiterated expression of the wounded, as one after another was washed

and had his wounds dressed. Mrs. Bickerdyke and myself assisted in the

operation. Poor boys! how my heart ached that I could do so little.

"After doing what we could in Hospital No. 1, to render the condition of

the poor fellows tolerable, we proceeded to No. 2, and did what we could

there, distributing our sanitary comforts in the most economical manner,

so as to make them go as far as possible. We found that what we brought

in the ambulance was giving untold comfort to our poor exhausted wounded

men, whose rough hospital couches were made by pine boughs with the

stems cut out, spread upon the ground over which their blankets were

thrown. This forms the bed, and the poor fellows' blouses, saturated

with their own blood, is their only pillow, their knapsacks being left

behind when they went into battle. More sanitary goods are on the way,

and will be brought to relieve the men as soon as possible."

Amidst all this care for others, there was little thought for her own

comfort. She says in another place:

"Our bed was composed of dry leaves, spread with a rubber and soldier's

blanket--our own blankets, with pillows and all, having been given out

to sufferers long before night."

In this diary we find another illustration of her extreme modesty.

Though intended but for the eyes of her own family, she says much of

Mrs. Bickerdyke's work, and but little of her own. Two, three, or four

hundred men, weary and exhausted, would be sent to them, and they must

exert every nerve to feed them, while they snatched a little rest.

Pickles, sauer-kraut, coffee and hard bread they gave to these--for the

sick and wounded they reserved their precious luxuries. With a fire made

out of doors, beneath a burning sun, and in kettles such as they could

find, and of no great capacity, they made coffee, mush, and cooked dried

fruit and vegetables, toiling unweariedly through the long hot days and

far into the nights. Many of the men knew Mrs. Bickerdyke, for many of

them she had nursed through wounds and sickness during the two years

she had been with this army, and she was saluted as "Mother" on all

sides. Not less grateful were they to Mrs. Porter. Again she says:

"The failing and faint-hearted are constantly coming in. They report

themselves sick, and a few days of rest and nourishing food will restore

most of them, but some have made their last march, and will soon be laid

in a soldier's grave! Mrs. Bickerdyke has sent gruel and other food,

which I have been distributing according to the wants of the prostrate

multitude, all on the _floor_. Some are very sick men. It is a pleasure

to do something for them. They are all dear to some circle, and are a

noble company."

Again she gives a sort of summary of her work in a letter, dated

Kingston, Georgia, June 1st: "We have received, fed, and comforted at

this hospital, during the past week, between four and five thousand

wounded men, and still they come. All the food and clothing have passed

under our supervision, and, indeed, almost every garment has been given

out by our hands. Almost every article of special diet has been cooked

by Mrs. Bickerdyke personally, and all has been superintended by her. I

speak of this particularly, as it is a wonderful fulfillment of the

promise, 'As thy day is, so shall thy strength be.'"

Again, writing from Alatoona, Georgia, June 14th: "I have just visited a

tent filled with 'amputated cases,' They are noble young men, the pride

and hope of loving families at the North, but most of them are so low

that they will never again return to them. Each had a special request

for 'something that he could relish,' I made my way quickly down from

the heights, where the hospital tents are pitched, and sought for the

food they craved. I found it among the goods of the Sanitary

Commission--and now the dried currants, cherries, and other fruit are

stewing; we have unsoddered cans containing condensed milk and preserved

fruit--and the poor fellows will not be disappointed in their

expectations."

In the foregoing sketch we have given but a very brief statement of the

labors and sacrifices of Mrs. Porter which were not intermitted until

the close of the war. We have said that her sons were in the army. Her

eldest son re-enlisted at the close of his first term, and the youngest,

after a hundred days' service, returned to college to fit himself for

future usefulness in his regenerated country. Mr. Porter's services, as

well as those of his wife were of great value, and her son, James B.

Porter, though serving as a private only, in Battery A, First Illinois

Light Artillery, has had frequent and honorable mention.

At the close of Sherman's campaign Mrs. Porter finished her army service

by caring for the travel-worn and wearied braves as they came into camp

at Washington where, with Mrs. Stephen Barker and others, she devoted

herself to the distribution of sanitary stores, attending the sick and

in various ways comforting and relieving all who needed her aid after

the toils of the Grand March.

MRS. MARY A. BICKERDYKE.

Among the hundreds who with untiring devotion have consecrated their

services to the ministrations of mercy in the Armies of the Union, there

is but one "Mother" Bickerdyke. Others may in various ways have made as

great sacrifices, or displayed equal heroism, but her measures and

methods have been peculiarly her own, and "none but herself can be her

parallel."

She is a widow, somewhat above forty years of age, of humble origin, and

of but moderate education, with a robust frame and great powers of

endurance, and possessing a rough stirring eloquence, a stern,

determined will and extraordinary executive ability. No woman connected

with the philanthropic work of the army has encountered more obstacles

in the accomplishment of her purposes, and none ever carried them

through more triumphantly. She has two little sons, noble boys, to whom

she is devotedly attached, but her patriotic zeal was even stronger than

her love for her children, and she gave herself up to the cause of her

country most unhesitatingly.

[Illustration: MRS. MARY A. BICKERDYKE.

Eng^d. by A.H. Ritchie.]

At the commencement of the war, she was, it is said, housekeeper in the

family of a gentleman in Cleveland, but she commenced her labors among

the sick and wounded men of the army very early, and never relinquished

her work until the close of the conflict. It has been one of her

peculiarities that she devoted her attention almost exclusively to the

care of the private soldiers; the officers, she said, had enough to

look after them; but it was the men, poor fellows, with but a private's

pay, a private's fare, and a private's dangers, to whom she was

particularly called. They were dear to somebody, and she would be a

mother to them. And it should be said, to the honor of the private

soldiers of the Western Armies, that they returned her kindness with

very decided gratitude and affection. If they were her "boys" as she

always insisted, she was "Mother Bickerdyke" to the whole army. Nothing

could exceed the zeal and earnestness with which she has always defended

their interests. For her "boys," she would brave everything; if the

surgeons or attendants at the hospitals were unfaithful, she denounced

them with a terrible vehemence, and always managed to secure their

dismission; if the Government officers were slow or delinquent in

forwarding needed supplies, they were sure to be reported at

headquarters by her, and in such a way that their conduct would be

thoroughly investigated. Yet while thus stern and vindictive toward

those who through negligence or malice wronged the soldiers of the army,

no one could be more tender in dealing with the sick and wounded. On the

battle-field, in the field, camp, post or general hospitals, her

vigorous arm was ever ready to lift the wounded soldier as tenderly as

his own mother could have done, and her ready skill was exerted with

equal facility in dressing his wounds, or in preparing such nourishment

for him as should call back his fleeting strength or tempt his fickle

and failing appetite. She was a capital forager, and for the sake of a

sick soldier she would undergo any peril or danger, and violate military

rules without the least hesitation. For herself she craved

nothing--would accept nothing--if "the boys in the hospital" could be

provided for, she was supremely happy. The soldiers were ready to do

anything in their power for her, while the contrabands regarded her

almost as a divinity, and would fly with unwonted alacrity to obey her

commands.

We are not certain whether she was an assistant in one of the

hospitals, or succored the wounded in any of the battles in Kentucky or

Missouri, in the autumn of 1861; we believe she was actively engaged in

ministering to the wounded after the fall of Fort Donelson, and at

Shiloh after the battle she rendered great and important services. It

was here, or rather at Savannah, Tennessee, where one of the largest

hospitals was established, soon after the battle, and placed in her

charge, that she first met Mrs. Eliza C. Porter, who was afterward

during Sherman's Grand March her associate and companion. Mrs. Porter

brought from Chicago a number of nurses, whom she placed under Mrs.

Bickerdyke's charge.

The care of this hospital occupied Mrs. Bickerdyke for some months, and

we lose sight of her till the battle of Perrysville where amid

difficulties which would have appalled any ordinary spirit, she

succeeded in dressing the wounds of the soldiers and supplying them with

nourishment. But with her untiring energy, she was not satisfied with

this. Collecting a large number of negro women who had escaped from the

plantations along the route of the Union Army, she set them to work

gathering the blankets and clothing left on the field, and such of the

clothing of the slain and desperately wounded as could be spared, and

having superintended the washing and repairing of these articles,

distributed them to the wounded who were in great need of additional

clothing. She also caused her corps of contrabands to pick up all the

arms and accoutrements left on the field, and turn them over to the

Union Quartermaster. Having returned after a time to Louisville, she was

appointed Matron of the Gayoso Hospital, at Memphis. This hospital

occupied the Gayoso House, formerly the largest hotel in Memphis. It was

Mrs. Bickerdyke's ambition to make this the best hospital of the six or

eight in the city, some of them buildings erected for hospital purposes.

A large hotel is not the best structure for a model hospital, but before

her energy and industry all obstacles disappeared. By an Army regulation

or custom, convalescent soldiers were employed as nurses, attendants

and ward-masters in the hospitals; an arrangement which though on some

accounts desirable, yet was on others objectionable. The soldiers not

yet fully recovered, were often weak, and incapable of the proper

performance of their duties; they were often, also, peevish and fretful,

and from sheer weakness slept at their posts, to the detriment of the

patients. It was hardly possible with such assistance to maintain that

perfect cleanliness so indispensable for a hospital. Mrs. Bickerdyke

determined from the first that she would not have these convalescents as

nurses and attendants in her hospital. Selecting carefully the more

intelligent of the negro women who flocked into Memphis in great

numbers, she assigned to them the severer work of the hospital, the

washing, cleaning, waiting upon the patients, and with the aid of some

excellent women nurses, paid by Government, she soon made her hospital

by far the best regulated one in the city. The cleanliness and

ventilation were perfect. The patients were carefully and tenderly

nursed, their medicine administered at the required intervals, and the

preparation of the special diet being wholly under Mrs. Bickerdyke's

supervision, herself a cook of remarkable skill, was admirably done.

Nothing escaped her vigilance, and under her watchful care, the affairs

of the hospital were admirably managed. She would not tolerate any

neglect of the men, either on the part of attendants, assistant surgeons

or surgeons.

On one occasion, visiting one of the wards containing the badly wounded

men, at nearly eleven o'clock, A. M., she found that the assistant

surgeon, in charge of that ward, who had been out on a drunken spree the

night before, and had slept very late, had not yet made out the special

diet list for the ward, and the men, faint and hungry, had had no

breakfast. She denounced him at once in the strongest terms, and as he

came in, and with an attempt at jollity inquired, "Hoity-toity, what's

the matter?" she turned upon him with "Matter enough, you miserable

scoundrel! Here these men, any one of them worth a thousand of you, are

suffered to starve and die, because you want to be off upon a drunk!

Pull off your shoulder-straps," she continued, as he tried feebly to

laugh off her reproaches, "pull off your shoulder-straps, for you shall

not stay in the army a week longer." The surgeon still laughed, but he

turned pale, for he knew her power. She was as good as her word. Within

three days she had caused his discharge. He went to headquarters and

asked to be reinstated. Major-General Sherman, who was then in command,

listened patiently, and then inquired who had procured his discharge. "I

was discharged in consequence of misrepresentation," answered the

surgeon, evasively. "But who caused your discharge?" persisted the

general. "Why," said the surgeon, hesitatingly, "I suppose it was that

woman, that Mrs. Bickerdyke." "Oh!" said Sherman, "well, if it was her,

I can do nothing for you. She ranks me."

We may say in this connection, that the commanding generals of the

armies in which Mrs. Bickerdyke performed her labors, Generals Sherman,

Hurlburt, Grant, and Sherman again, in his great march, having become

fully satisfied how invaluable she was in her care of the private

soldiers, were always ready to listen to her appeals and to grant her

requests. She was, in particular, a great favorite with both Grant and

Sherman, and had only to ask for anything she needed to get it, if it

was within the power of the commander to obtain it. It should be said in

justice to her, that she never asked anything for herself, and that her

requests were always for something that would promote the welfare of the

men.

Some months after the discharge of the assistant surgeon, the surgeon in

charge of the hospital, who was a martinet in discipline, and somewhat

irritated for some cause, resolved, in order to annoy her, to compel the

discharge of the negro nurses and attendants, and require her to employ

convalescent soldiers, as the other hospitals were doing. For this

purpose he procured from the medical director an order that none but

convalescent soldiers should be employed as nurses in the Memphis

hospitals. The order was issued, probably, without any knowledge of the

annoyance it was intended to cause Mrs. Bickerdyke. It was to take

effect at nine o'clock the following morning. Mrs. Bickerdyke heard of

it just at night. The Gayoso Hospital was nearly three-fourths of a mile

from headquarters. It was raining heavily, and the mud was deep; but she

was not the woman to be thwarted in her plans by a hospital surgeon,

without a struggle; so, nothing daunted, she sallied out, having first

had the form of an order drawn up, permitting the employment of

contrabands as nurses, at the Gayoso Hospital. Arrived at headquarters,

she was told that the commanding general, Sherman's successor, was ill

and could not be seen. Suspecting that his alleged illness was only

another name for over-indulgence in strong drink, she insisted that she

must and would see him, and in spite of the objections of his

staff-officers, forced her way to his room, and finding him in bed,

roused him partially, propped him up, put a pen in his hand, and made

him sign the order she had brought. This done, she returned to her

hospital, and the next morning, when the surgeon and medical director

came around to enforce the order of the latter, she quietly handed them

the order of the commanding-general, permitting her to retain her

contrabands.

While in charge of this hospital, she made several journeys to Chicago

and other cities of the Northwest, to procure aid for the suffering

soldiers. The first of these were characteristic of her energy and

resolution. She had found great difficulty in procuring, in the vicinity

of Memphis, the milk, butter, and eggs needed for her hospital. She had

foraged from the secessionists, had traded with them her own clothing

and whatever else she could spare, for these necessaries for her "boys,"

until there was nothing more left to trade. The other hospitals were in

about the same condition. She resolved, therefore, to have a dairy for

the hospitals. Going among the farmers of Central Illinois, she begged

two hundred cows and a thousand hens, and returned in triumph with her

flock of hens and her drove of cows. On reaching Memphis, her cattle and

fowls made such a lowing and cackling, that the secessionists of the

city entered their complaints to the commanding general, who assigned

her an island in the Mississippi, opposite the city, where her dairy and

hennery were comfortably accommodated. It was we believe, while on this

expedition that, at the request of Mrs. Hoge and Mrs. Livermore, the

Associate Managers of the Northwestern Sanitary Commission, she visited

Milwaukie, Wisconsin. The Ladies' Aid Society of that city had

memorialized their Chamber of Commerce to make an appropriation to aid

them in procuring supplies for the wounded soldiers, and were that day

to receive the reply of the chamber.

Mrs. Bickerdyke went with the ladies, and the President of the Chamber,

in his blandest tones, informed them that the Chamber of Commerce had

considered their request, but that they had expended so much recently in

fitting out a regiment, that they thought they must be excused from

making any contributions to the Ladies' Aid Society. Mrs. Bickerdyke

asked the privilege of saying a few words in the way of answer. For half

an hour she held them enchained while she described, in simple but

eloquent language, the life of the private soldier, his privations and

sufferings, the patriotism which animated him, and led him to endure,

without murmuring, hardships, sickness, and even death itself, for his

country. She contrasted this with the sordid love of gain which not only

shrank from these sacrifices in person, but grudged the pittance

necessary to alleviate them, while it made the trifling amount it had

already contributed, an excuse for making no further donations, and

closed with this forcible denunciation: "And you, merchants and rich men

of Milwaukie, living at your ease, dressed in your broad-cloth, knowing

little and caring less for the sufferings of these soldiers from hunger

and thirst, from cold and nakedness, from sickness and wounds, from pain

and death, all incurred that you may roll in wealth, and your homes and

little ones be safe; you will refuse to give aid to these poor soldiers,

because, forsooth, you gave a few dollars some time ago to fit out a

regiment! Shame on you--you are not men--you are cowards--go over to

Canada--this country has no place for such creatures!" The Chamber of

Commerce was not prepared for such a rebuke, and they reconsidered their

action, and made an appropriation at once to the Ladies' Aid Society.

Immediately after the surrender of Vicksburg, Mrs. Bickerdyke

surrendered her hospital at Memphis into other hands, and went thither

to care for the wounded. She accompanied Sherman's corps in their

expedition to Jackson, and amid all the hardships and exposures of the

field, ministered to the sick and wounded. Cooking for them in the open

air, under the burning sun and the heavy dews, she was much exposed to

the malarious fevers of that sickly climate, but her admirable

constitution enabled her to endure fatigue and exposure, better even

than most of the soldiers. Though always neat and cleanly in person, she

was indifferent to the attractions of dress, and amid the flying sparks

from her fires in the open air, her calico dresses would often take

fire, and as she expressed it, "the soldiers would put her out," _i. e._

extinguish the sparks which were burning her dresses. In this way it

happened that she had not a single dress which had not been more or less

riddled by these sparks. With her clothing in this plight she visited

Chicago again late in the summer of 1863, and the ladies of the Sanitary

Commission replenished her wardrobe, and soon after sent her a box of

excellent clothing for her own use. Some of the articles in this box,

the gift of those who admired her earnest devotion to the interests of

the soldiers, were richly wrought and trimmed. Among these were two

elegant night dresses, trimmed with ruffles and lace. On receiving the

box, Mrs. Bickerdyke, who was again for the time in charge of a

hospital, reserving for herself only a few of the plainest and cheapest

articles, traded off the remainder, except the two night dresses, with

the rebel women of the vicinity, for butter, eggs, and other delicacies

for her sick soldiers, and as she purposed going to Cairo soon, and

thought that the night dresses would bring more for the same purpose in

Tennessee or Kentucky, she reserved them to be traded on her journey. On

her way, however, at one of the towns on the Mobile and Ohio railroad,

she found two poor fellows who had been discharged from some of the

hospitals with their wounds not yet fully healed, and their exertions in

traveling had caused them to break out afresh. Here they were, in a

miserable shanty, sick, bleeding, hungry, penniless, and with only their

soiled clothing. Mrs. Bickerdyke at once took them in hand. Washing

their wounds and staunching the blood, she tore off the lower portions

of the night dresses for bandages, and as the men had no shirts, she

arrayed them in the remainder of these dresses, ruffles, lace, and all.

The soldiers modestly demurred a little at the ruffles and lace, but

Mrs. Bickerdyke suggested to them that if any inquiries were made, they

could say that they had been plundering the secessionists.

Visiting Chicago at this time, she was again invited to Milwaukie, and

went with the ladies to the Chamber of Commerce. Here she was very

politely received, and the President informed her that the Chamber

feeling deeply impressed with the good work, she and the other ladies

were doing in behalf of the soldiers, had voted a contribution of twelve

hundred dollars a month to the Ladies' Aid Society. Mrs. Bickerdyke was

not, however, disposed to tender them the congratulations, to which

perhaps they believed themselves entitled for their liberality. "You

believe yourselves very generous, no doubt, gentlemen," she said, "and

think that because you have voted this pretty sum, you are doing all

that is required of you. But I have in my hospital a hundred poor

soldiers who have done more than any of you. Who of you would contribute

a leg, an arm, or an eye, instead of what you have done? How many

hundred or thousand dollars would you consider an equivalent for

either? Don't deceive yourselves, gentlemen. The poor soldier who has

given an arm, a leg, or an eye to his country (and many of them have

given more than one) has given more than you have or can. How much more,

then, he who has given his life? No! gentlemen, you must set your

standard higher yet or you will not come up to the full measure of

liberality in giving."

On her return to the South Mrs. Bickerdyke spent a few weeks at

Huntsville, Alabama, in charge of a hospital, and then joined Sherman's

Fifteenth Corps in their rapid march toward Chattanooga. It will be

remembered that Sherman's Corps, or rather the Army of the Tennessee

which he now commanded were hurried into action immediately on their

arrival at Chattanooga. To them was assigned the duty of making the

attack against that portion of the enemy who were posted on the northern

termination of Mission Ridge, and the persistent assaults on Fort

Buckner were attended with severe slaughter, though they made the

victory elsewhere possible. The Field Hospital of the Fifteenth Army

Corps was situated on the north bank of the Genesee River, on a slope at

the base of Mission Ridge, where after the struggle was over seventeen

hundred of our wounded and exhausted soldiers were brought. Mrs.

Bickerdyke reached there before the din and smoke of battle were well

over, and before all were brought from the field of blood and carnage.

There she remained the only female attendant for four weeks. The

supplies she had been able to bring with her soon gave out, but Dr.

Newberry, the Western Secretary of the Sanitary Commission, presently

arrived with an ample supply which she used freely.

The Field Hospital was in a forest, about five miles from Chattanooga;

wood was abundant, and the camp was warmed by immense burning log heaps,

which were the only fire-places or cooking-stoves of the camp or

hospitals. Men were detailed to fell the trees and pile the logs to heat

the air, which was very wintry. Beside these fires Mrs. Bickerdyke made

soup and toast, tea and coffee, and broiled mutton without a gridiron,

often blistering her fingers in the process. A house in due time was

demolished to make bunks for the worst cases, and the bricks from the

chimney were converted into an oven, where Mrs. Bickerdyke made bread,

yeast having been found in the Chicago boxes, and flour at a neighboring

mill which had furnished flour to secessionists through the war until

that time. Great multitudes were fed from these rude kitchens, and from

time to time other conveniences were added and the labor made somewhat

less exhausting. After four weeks of severe toil all the soldiers who

were able to leave were furloughed home, and the remainder, about nine

hundred, brought to a more comfortable Field Hospital, two miles from

Chattanooga. In this hospital Mrs. Bickerdyke continued her work, being

joined, New Year's eve, by Mrs. Eliza C. Porter, who thenceforward was

her constant associate, both being employed by the Northwestern Sanitary

Commission to attend to this work of special field relief in that army.

Mrs. Porter says that when she arrived there it was very cold, and the

wind which had followed a heavy rain was very piercing, overturning some

of the hospital tents and causing the inmates of all to tremble with

cold and anxious fear. Mrs. Bickerdyke was going from tent to tent in

the gale carrying hot bricks and hot drinks to warm and cheer the poor

fellows. It was touching to see the strong attachment the soldiers felt

for her. "She is a power of good," said one soldier. "We fared mighty

poor till she came here," said another. "God bless the Sanitary

Commission," said a third, "for sending women among us." True to her

attachment to the private soldiers, Mrs. Bickerdyke early sought an

interview with General Grant, and told him in her plain way, that the

surgeons in some of the hospitals were great rascals, and neglected the

men shamefully; and that unless they were removed and faithful men put

in their places, he would lose hundreds and perhaps thousands of his

veteran soldiers whom he could ill afford to spare. "You must not," she

said, "trust anybody's report in this matter, but see to it yourself.

Disguise yourself so that the surgeons or men won't know you, and go

around to the hospitals and see for yourself how the men are neglected."

"But, Mrs. Bickerdyke," said the general, "that is the business of my

medical director, he must attend to that. I can't see to everything in

person."

"Well," was her reply, "leave it to him if you think best; but if you do

you will lose your men."

The general made no promises, but a night or two later the hospitals

were visited by a stranger who made very particular inquiries, and

within a week about half a dozen surgeons were dismissed and more

efficient men put in their places. At the opening of spring, Mrs.

Bickerdyke and Mrs. Porter returned to Huntsville and superintended the

distribution of Sanitary Supplies in the hospitals there, and at Pulaski

and other points.

No sooner was General Sherman prepared to move on his Atlanta Campaign

than he sent word to Mrs. Bickerdyke to come up and accompany the army

in its march. She accordingly left Huntsville on the 10th of May for

Chattanooga, and from thence went immediately to Ringgold, near which

town the army was then stationed. As the army moved forward to Dalton

and Resaca, she sent forward teams laden with supplies, and followed

them in an ambulance the next day. On the 16th of May she and her

associate Mrs. Porter proceeded at once to the Field Hospitals which

were as near as safety would permit to the hard-fought battle-ground of

the previous day, washed the wounded, dressed their wounds, and

administered to them such nourishment as could be prepared. There was at

first some little delay in the receipt of sanitary stores, but with

wonderful tact and ingenuity Mrs. Bickerdyke succeeded in making

palatable dishes for the sick from the hard tack, coffee and other items

of the soldier's ration. Soon however the sanitary goods came up, and

thenceforward, with her rare executive ability the department of special

relief for that portion of the army to which she was assigned was

maintained in its highest condition of efficiency, in spite of

disabilities which would have completely discouraged any woman of less

resolution. The diary of her associate, Mrs. Porter, is full of

allusions to the extraordinary exertions of Mrs. Bickerdyke during this

campaign. We quote two or three as examples.

"To-day every kettle which could be raised has been used in making

coffee. Mrs. Bickerdyke has made barrel after barrel, and it is a

comfort to know that multitudes are reached, and cheered, and saved. Two

hundred and sixty slightly wounded men just came to this point on the

cars on their way North, all hungry and weary, saying, 'We are so

thirsty,' 'Do give us something to eat,' Mrs. Bickerdyke was engaged in

giving out supper to the three hundred in wards here, and told them she

could not feed them then. They turned away in sorrow and were leaving,

when learning who they were--wounded men of the Twentieth Army Corps,

and their necessity--she told them to wait a few moments, she would

attend to them. She gave them coffee, krout, and potato pickles, which

are never eaten but by famished men, and for once they were a luxury. I

stood in the room where our supplies were deposited, giving to some

crackers, to some pickles, and to each hungry man something. One of the

green cards that come on all the stores of the Northwestern Commission

Mrs. Bickerdyke had tacked upon the wall, and this told the inquirers

from what branch of the Commission the supplies were obtained. The men

were mostly from New York, Pennsylvania and New Jersey, and most

grateful recipients were they of the generosity of the Northwest. You

can imagine the effort made to supply two barrels of coffee with only

three camp-kettles, two iron boilers holding two pailfuls, one small

iron tea-kettle and one sauce-pan, to make it in. These all placed over

a dry rail-fire were boiled in double-quick time, and were filled and

refilled till all had a portion. Chicago canned milk never gave more

comfort than on this occasion, I assure you. Our cooking conveniences

are much the same as at Mission Ridge, but there is to be a change soon.

The Medical Director informs me that this is to be a recovering

hospital, and cooking apparatus will soon be provided."

"Mrs. Bickerdyke was greeted on the street by a soldier on horseback;

'Mother,' said he, 'is that you? Don't you remember me? I was in the

hospital, my arm amputated, and I was saved by your kindness. I am so

glad to see you,' giving her a beautiful bouquet of roses, the only

token of grateful remembrance he could command. Mrs. Bickerdyke daily

receives such greetings from men, who say they have been saved from

death by her efforts."

"To-day three hundred and twelve men have been fed and comforted here.

This morning Mrs. Bickerdyke made mush for two hundred, having gathered

up in various places kettles, so that by great effort out of doors she

can cook something. Potatoes, received from Iowa, and dried fruit and

canned, have been distributed among the men. Many of them are from Iowa.

'What could we do without these stores?' is the constant inquiry."

"Almost every article of special diet has been cooked by Mrs. Bickerdyke

personally, and all has been superintended by her."

After the close of the Atlanta Campaign and the convalescence of the

greater part of the wounded, Mrs. Bickerdyke returned to Chicago for a

brief period of rest, but was soon called to Nashville and Franklin to

attend the wounded of General Thomas's Army after the campaign which

ended in Hood's utter discomfiture. When Savannah was surrendered she

hastened thither, and after organizing the supply department of its

hospitals, she and Mrs. Porter, who still accompanied her, established

their system of Field Relief in Sherman's Campaign through the

Carolinas. When at last in June, 1865, Sherman's veterans reached the

National Capitol and were to be mustered out, the Sanitary Commission

commenced its work of furnishing the supplies of clothing and other

needful articles to these grim soldiers, to make their homeward journey

more comfortable and their appearance to their families more agreeable.

The work of distribution in the Fifteenth and Seventeenth Army Corps was

assigned to Mrs. Bickerdyke and Mrs. Porter, and was performed, says

Mrs. Barker, who had the general superintendence of the distribution,

admirably. With this labor Mrs. Bickerdyke's connection with the

sanitary work of the army ceased. She had, however, been too long

engaged in philanthropic labor, to be content to sit down quietly, and

lead a life of inaction; and after a brief period of rest, she began to

gather the more helpless of the freedmen, in Chicago, and has since

devoted her time and efforts to a "Freedmen's Home and Refuge" in that

city, in which she is accomplishing great good. Out of the host of

zealous workers in the hospitals and in the field, none have borne to

their homes in greater measure the hearty and earnest love of the

soldiers, as none had been more zealously and persistently devoted to

their interests.

[Illustration: MISS MARGARET E. BRECKENRIDGE.

Eng^d. by A.H. Ritchie.]

MARGARET E. BRECKINRIDGE.

A true heroine of the war was Margaret Elizabeth Breckinridge. Patient,

courageous, self-forgetting, steady of purpose and cheerful in spirit,

she belonged by nature to the heroic order, while all the circumstances

of her early life tended to mature and prepare her for her destined

work. Had her lot been cast in the dark days of religious intolerance

and persecution, her steadfast enthusiasm and holy zeal would have

earned for her a martyr's cross and crown; but, born in this glorious

nineteenth century, and reared in an atmosphere of liberal thought and

active humanity, the first spark of patriotism that flashed across the

startled North at the outbreak of the rebellion, set all her soul aglow,

and made it henceforth an altar of living sacrifice, a burning and a

shining light, to the end of her days. Dearer to her gentle spirit than

any martyr's crown, must have been the consciousness that this God-given

light had proved a guiding beacon to many a faltering soul feeling its

way into the dim beyond, out of the drear loneliness of camp or

hospital. With her slight form, her bright face, and her musical voice,

she seemed a ministering angel to the sick and suffering soldiers, while

her sweet womanly purity and her tender devotion to their wants made her

almost an object of worship among them. "Ain't she an angel?" said a

gray-headed soldier as he watched her one morning as she was busy

getting breakfast for the boys on the steamer "City of Alton." "She

never seems to tire, she is always smiling, and don't seem to walk--she

flies, all but--God bless her!" Another, a soldier boy of seventeen

said to her, as she was smoothing his hair and saying cheering words

about mother and home to him, "Ma'am, where do you come from? How could

such a lady as you are come down here, to take care of us poor, sick,

dirty boys?" She answered--"I consider it an honor to wait on you, and

wash off the mud you've waded through for me."

Another asked this favor of her, "Lady, please write down your name, and

let me look at it, and take it home, to show my wife who wrote my

letters, and combed my hair and fed me. I don't believe you're like

other people." In one of her letters she says, "I am often touched with

their anxiety not to give trouble, not to _bother_, as they say. That

same evening I found a poor, exhausted fellow, lying on a stretcher, on

which he had just been brought in. There was no bed for him just then,

and he was to remain there for the present, and looked uncomfortable

enough, with his knapsack for a pillow. 'I know some hot tea will do you

good,' I said. 'Yes, ma'am,' he answered, 'but I am too weak to sit up

with nothing to lean against; it's no matter,--don't bother about me,'

but his eyes were fixed longingly on the smoking tea. Everybody was

busy, not even a nurse in sight, but the poor man must have his tea. I

pushed away the knapsack, raised his head, and seated myself on the end

of the stretcher; and, as I drew his poor tired head back upon my

shoulder and half held him, he seemed, with all his pleasure and eager

enjoyment of the tea, to be troubled at my being so bothered with him.

He forgot I had come so many hundred miles on purpose to be bothered."

One can hardly read this simple unaffected statement of hers, without

instinctively recalling the touching story told of a soldier in one of

the hospitals of the Crimea who, when Florence Nightingale had passed,

turned and kissed the place upon his pillow where her shadow fell. The

sweet name of the fair English nurse might well be claimed by many of

our American heroines, but, when we think of Margaret's pure voice,

singing hymns with the soldiers on the hospital-boat, filling the

desolate woods along the Mississippi shores with solemn music in the

still night, we feel that it belongs especially to her and that we may

call her, without offense to the others, _our Florence Nightingale_.

Her great power of adaptation served her well in her chosen vocation.

Unmindful of herself, and always considerate of others, she could suit

herself to the need of the moment and was equally at home in making tea

and toast for the hungry, dressing ghastly wounds for the sufferers, and

in singing hymns and talking of spiritual things with the sick and

dying.

She found indeed her true vocation. She saw her way and walked

fearlessly in it; she knew her work and did it with all her heart and

soul. When she first began to visit the hospitals in and around St.

Louis, she wrote "I shall never be satisfied till I get right into a

hospital, to live till the war is over. If you are constantly with the

men, you have hundreds of opportunities and moments of influence in

which you can gain their attention and their hearts, and do more good

than in any missionary field." Once, on board a steamer near Vicksburg,

during the fearful winter siege of that city, some one said to her, "You

must hold back, you are going beyond your strength, you will die if you

are not more prudent!" "Well," said she, with thrilling earnestness,

"what if I do? Shall men come here by tens of thousands and fight, and

suffer, and die, and shall not some women be willing to die to sustain

and succor them?" No wonder that such sincerity won all hearts and

carried all before it! Alas! the brave spirit was stronger than the

frail casket that encased it, and that yielded inevitably to the heavy

demands that were made upon it.

A rare and consistent life was hers, a worthy and heroic death. Let us

stop a moment to admire the truth and beauty of the one, and to do

reverence to the deep devotion of the other. The following sketch is

gathered from the pages of a "Memorial" published by her friends

shortly after her death, which occurred at Niagara Falls, July 27th,

1864.

"Margaret Elizabeth Breckinridge was born in Philadelphia, March 24th,

1832. Her paternal grandfather was John Breckinridge, of Kentucky, once

Attorney-General of the United States. Her father, the Rev. John

Breckinridge, D. D., was his second son, a man of talent and influence,

from whom Margaret inherited good gifts of mind and heart, and an

honored name. Her mother, who was the daughter of Rev. Samuel Miller, of

Princeton, N. J., died when Margaret was only six years old, at which

time she and her sister Mary went to live with their grandparents at

Princeton. Their father dying three years afterwards, the home of the

grandparents became their permanent abode. They had one brother, now

Judge Breckinridge of St. Louis. Margaret's school-days were pleasantly

passed, for she had a genuine love of study, an active intellect, and a

very retentive memory. When her school education was over, she still

continued her studies, and never gave up her prescribed course until the

great work came upon her which absorbed all her time and powers. In the

year 1852 her sister married Mr. Peter A. Porter of Niagara Falls, a

gentleman of culture and accomplishments, a noble man, a true patriot.

At his house the resort of literary and scientific men, the shelter of

the poor and friendless, the centre of sweet social life and domestic

peace, Margaret found for a time a happy home.

"Between her and her sister, Mrs. Porter, there was genuine sisterly

love, a fine intellectual sympathy, and a deep and tender affection. The

first great trial of Miss Breckinridge's life was the death of this

beloved sister which occurred in 1854, only two years after her

marriage. She died of cholera, after an illness of only a few hours.

Margaret had left her but a few days before, in perfect health. The

shock was so terrible that for many years she could not speak her

sister's name without deep emotion; but she was too brave and too truly

religious to allow this blow, dreadful as it was, to impair her

usefulness or unfit her for her destined work. Her religion was

eminently practical and energetic. She was a constant and faithful

Sunday-school teacher, and devoted her attention especially to the

colored people in whom she had a deep interest. She had become by

inheritance the owner of several slaves in Kentucky, who were a source

of great anxiety to her, and the will of her father, though carefully

designed to secure their freedom, had become so entangled with state

laws, subsequently made, as to prevent her, during her life, from

carrying out what was his wish as well as her own. By her will she

directed that they should be freed as soon as possible, and something

given them to provide against the first uncertainties of self-support."

So the beginning of the war found Margaret ripe and ready for her noble

womanly work; trained to self-reliance, accustomed to using her powers

in the service of others, tender, brave, and enthusiastic, chastened by

a life-long sorrow, she longed to devote herself to her country, and to

do all in her power to help on its noble defenders. During the first

year of the struggle duty constrained her to remain at home, but heart

and hands worked bravely all the time, and even her ready pen was

pressed into the service.

But Margaret could not be satisfied to remain with the Home-Guards. She

must be close to the scene of action and in the foremost ranks. She

determined to become a hospital-nurse. Her anxious friends combated her

resolution in vain; they felt that her slender frame and excitable

temperament could not bear the stress and strain of hospital work, but

she had set her mark and must press onward let life or death be the

issue. In April, 1862, Miss Breckinridge set out for the West, stopping

a few weeks at Baltimore on her way. Then she commenced her hospital

service; then, too, she contracted measles, and, by the time she reached

Lexington, Kentucky, her destination, she was quite ill; but the delay

was only temporary, and soon she was again absorbed in her work. A

guerrilla raid, under John Morgan, brought her face to face with the

realities of war, and soon after, early in September she found herself

in a beleaguered city, actually in the grasp of the Rebels, Kirby Smith

holding possession of Lexington and its neighborhood for about six

weeks. It is quite evident that Miss Breckinridge improved this occasion

to air her loyal sentiments and give such help and courage to Unionists

as lay in her power. In a letter written just after this invasion she

says, "At that very time, a train of ambulances, bringing our sick and

wounded from Richmond, was leaving town on its way to Cincinnati. It was

a sight to stir every loyal heart; and so the Union people thronged

round them to cheer them up with pleasant, hopeful words, to bid them

God speed, and last, but not least, to fill their haversacks and

canteens. We went, thinking it possible we might be ordered off by the

guard, but they only stood off, scowling and wondering.

"'Good-by,' said the poor fellows from the ambulances, 'we're coming

back as soon as ever we get well.'

"'Yes, yes,' we whispered, for there were spies all around us, 'and

every one of you bring a regiment with you.'"

As soon as these alarms were over, and Kentucky freed from rebel

invaders, Miss Breckinridge went on to St. Louis, to spend the winter

with her brother. As soon as she arrived, she began to visit the

hospitals of the city and its neighborhood, but her chief work, and that

from the effects of which she never recovered, was the service she

undertook upon the hospital boats, which were sent down the Mississippi

to bring up the sick and wounded from the posts below. She made two

excursions of this kind, full of intense experiences, both of pleasure

and pain. These boats went down the river empty unless they chanced to

carry companies of soldiers to rejoin their regiments, but they returned

crowded with the sick and dying, emaciated, fever-stricken men, sadly in

need of tender nursing but with scarcely a single comfort at command.

Several of the nurses broke down under this arduous and difficult

service, but Margaret congratulated herself that she had held out to the

end. These expeditions were not without danger as well as privation. One

of her letters records a narrow escape. "To give you an idea of the

audacity of these guerrillas; while we lay at Memphis that afternoon, in

broad daylight, a party of six, dressed in our uniform, went on board a

government boat, lying just across the river, and asked to be taken as

passengers six miles up the river, which was granted; but they had no

sooner left the shore than they drew their pistols, overpowered the

crew, and made them go up eighteen miles to meet another government boat

coming down loaded with stores, tied the boats together and burned them,

setting the crew of each adrift in their own yawl, and nobody knew it

till they reached Memphis, two hours later. Being able to hear nothing

of the wounded, we pushed on to Helena, ninety miles below, and here

dangers thickened. We saw the guerrillas burning cotton, with our own

eyes, along the shore, we saw their little skiffs hid away among the

bushes on the shore; and just before we got to Helena, had a most narrow

escape from their clutches. A signal to land on the river was in

ordinary times never disregarded, as the way business of freight and

passengers was the chief profit often of the trip, and it seems hard for

pilots and captains always to be on their guard against a decoy. At this

landing the signal was given, all as it should be, and we were just

rounding to, when, with a sudden jerk, the boat swung round into the

stream again. The mistake was discovered in time, by a government

officer on board, and we escaped an ambush. Just think! we might have

been prisoners in Mississippi now, but God meant better things for us

than that."

Her tender heart was moved by the sufferings of the wretched colored

people at Helena. She says, "But oh! the contrabands! my heart did ache

for them. Such wretched, uncared-for, sad-looking creatures I never saw.

They come in such swarms that it is impossible to do anything for them,

unless benevolent people take the thing into their hands. They have a

little settlement in one end of the town, and the government furnishes

them rations, but they cannot all get work, even if they were all able

and willing to do it; then they get sick from exposure, and now the

small pox is making terrible havoc among them. They have a hospital of

their own, and one of our Union Aid ladies has gone down to superintend

it, and get it into some order, but it seems as if there was nothing

before them but suffering for many a long day to come, and that sad, sad

truth came back to me so often as I went about among them, that no

people ever gained their freedom without a baptism of fire."

Miss Breckinridge returned to St. Louis on a small hospital-boat on

which there were one hundred and sixty patients in care of herself and

one other lady. A few extracts from one of her letters will show what

brave work it gave her to do.

"It was on Sunday morning, 25th of January, that Mrs. C. and I went on

board the hospital boat which had received its sad freight the day

before, and was to leave at once for St. Louis, and it would be

impossible to describe the scene which presented itself to me as I stood

in the door of the cabin. Lying on the floor, with nothing under them

but a tarpaulin and their blankets, were crowded fifty men, many of them

with death written on their faces; and looking through the half-open

doors of the state-rooms, we saw that they contained as many more.

Young, boyish faces, old and thin from suffering, great restless eyes

that were fixed on nothing, incoherent ravings of those who were wild

with fever, and hollow coughs on every side--this, and much more that I

do not want to recall, was our welcome to our new work; but, as we

passed between the two long rows, back to our own cabin, pleasant smiles

came to the lips of some, others looked after us wonderingly, and one

poor boy whispered, 'Oh, but it is good to see the ladies come in!' I

took one long look into Mrs. C's eyes to see how much strength and

courage was hidden in them. We asked each other, not in words, but in

those fine electric thrills by which one soul questions another, 'Can we

bring strength, and hope, and comfort to these poor suffering men?' and

the answer was, 'Yes, by God's help we will!' The first thing was to

give them something like a comfortable bed, and, Sunday though it was,

we went to work to run up our sheets into bed-sacks. Every man that had

strength enough to stagger was pressed into the service, and by night

most of them had something softer than a tarpaulin to sleep on. 'Oh, I

am so comfortable now!' some of them said; 'I think I can sleep

to-night,' exclaimed one little fellow, half-laughing with pleasure. The

next thing was to provide something that sick people could eat, for

coffee and bread was poor food for most of them. We had two little

stoves, one in the cabin and one in the chambermaid's room, and here,

the whole time we were on board, we had to do the cooking for a hundred

men. Twenty times that day I fully made up my mind to cry with vexation,

and twenty times that day I laughed instead; and surely, a kettle of tea

was never made under so many difficulties as the one I made that

morning. The kettle lid was not to be found, the water simmered and sang

at its leisure, and when I asked for the poker I could get nothing but

an old bayonet, and, all the time, through the half-open door behind me,

I heard the poor hungry fellows asking the nurses, 'Where is that tea

the lady promised me?' or 'When will my toast come?' But there must be

an end to all things, and when I carried them their tea and toast, and

heard them pronounce it 'plaguey good,' and 'awful nice,' it was more

than a recompense for all the worry.

"One great trouble was the intense cold. We could not keep life in some

of the poor emaciated frames. 'Oh dear! I shall freeze to death!' one

poor little fellow groaned, as I passed him. Blankets seemed to have no

effect upon them, and at last we had to keep canteens filled with

boiling water at their feet." * * *

"There was one poor boy about whom from the first I had been very

anxious. He drooped and faded from day to day before my eyes. Nothing

but constant stimulants seemed to keep him alive, and, at last I

summoned courage to tell him--oh, how hard it was!--that he could not

live many hours. 'Are you willing to die?' I asked him. He closed his

eyes, and was silent a moment; then came that passionate exclamation

which I have heard so often, 'My mother, oh! my mother!' and, to the

last, though I believe God gave him strength to trust in Christ, and

willingness to die, he longed for his mother. I had to leave him, and,

not long after, he sent for me to come, that he was dying, and wanted me

to sing to him. He prayed for himself in the most touching words; he

confessed that he had been a wicked boy, and then with one last message

for that dear mother, turned his face to the pillow and died; and so,

one by one, we saw them pass away, and all the little keepsakes and

treasures they had loved and kept about them, laid away to be sent home

to those they should never see again. Oh, it was heart-breaking to see

that!"

After the "sad freight" had reached its destination, and the care and

responsibility are over, true woman that she is, she breaks down and

cries over it all, but brightens up, and looking back upon it declares:

"I certainly never had so much comfort and satisfaction in anything in

all my life, and the tearful thanks of those who thought in their

gratitude that they owed a great deal more to us than they did, the

blessings breathed from dying lips, and the comfort it has been to

friends at home to hear all about the last sad hours of those they love,

and know their dying messages of love to them; all this is a rich, and

full, and overflowing reward for any labor and for any sacrifice." Again

she says: "There is a soldier's song of which they are very fond, one

verse of which often comes back to me:

'So I've had a sight of drilling,

And I've roughed it many days;

Yes, and death has nearly had me,

Yet, I think, the service pays.'

Indeed it does,--richly, abundantly, blessedly, and I thank God that he

has honored me by letting me do a little and suffer a little for this

grand old Union, and the dear, brave fellows who are fighting for it."

Early in March she returned to St. Louis, expecting to make another trip

down the river, but her work was nearly over, and the seeds of disease

sown in her winter's campaign were already overmastering her delicate

constitution. She determined to go eastward for rest and recovery,

intending to return in the autumn and fix herself in one of the Western

hospitals, where she could devote herself to her beloved work while the

war lasted. At this time she writes to her Eastern friends: "I shall

soon turn my face eastward, and I have more and more to do as my time

here grows shorter. I have been at the hospital every day this week, and

at the Government rooms, where we prepare the Government work for the

poor women, four hundred of whom we supply with work every week. I have

also a family of refugees to look after, so I do not lack employment."

Early in June, Miss Breckinridge reached Niagara on her way to the East,

where she remained for a month. For a year she struggled against disease

and weakness, longing all the time to be at work again, making vain

plans for the time when she should be "well and strong, and able to go

back to the hospitals." With this cherished scheme in view she went in

the early part of May, 1864, into the Episcopal Hospital in

Philadelphia, that she might acquire experience in nursing, especially

in surgical cases, so that in the autumn, she could begin her labor of

love among the soldiers more efficiently and confidently than before.

She went to work with her usual energy and promptness, following the

surgical nurse every day through the wards, learning the best methods of

bandaging and treating the various wounds. She was not satisfied with

merely seeing this done, but often washed and dressed the wounds with

her own hands, saying, "I shall be able to do this for the soldiers when

I get back to the army." The patients could not understand this, and

would often expostulate, saying, "Oh no, Miss, that is not for the like

of you to do!" but she would playfully insist and have her way. Nor was

she satisfied to gain so much without giving something in return. She

went from bed to bed, encouraging the despondent, cheering the weak and

miserable, reading to them from her little Testament, and singing sweet

hymns at twilight,--a ministering angel here as well as on the

hospital-boats on the Mississippi.

On the 2d of June she had an attack of erysipelas, which however was not

considered alarming, and under which she was patient and cheerful.

Then came news of the fighting before Richmond and of the probability

that her brother-in-law, Colonel Porter,[E] had fallen. Her friends

concealed it from her until the probability became a sad certainty, and

then they were obliged to reveal it to her. The blow fell upon her with

overwhelming force. One wild cry of agony, one hour of unmitigated

sorrow, and then she sweetly and submissively bowed herself to the will

of her Heavenly Father, and was still; but the shock was too great for

the wearied body and the bereaved heart. Gathering up her small remnant

of strength and courage she went to Baltimore to join the afflicted

family of Colonel Porter, saying characteristically, "I can do more good

with them than anywhere else just now." After a week's rest in Baltimore

she proceeded with them to Niagara, bearing the journey apparently well,

but the night after her arrival she became alarmingly ill, and it was

soon evident that she could not recover from her extreme exhaustion and

prostration. For five weeks her life hung trembling in the balance, and

then the silver cord was loosed and she went to join her dear ones gone

before.

"Underneath are the everlasting arms," she said to a friend who bent

anxiously over her during her sickness. Yes, "the everlasting arms"

upheld her in all her courageous heroic earthly work; they cradle her

spirit now in eternal rest.

[Footnote E: This truly Christian hero, the son of General Peter A.

Porter of Niagara Falls, was one of those rare spirits, who surrounded

by everything which could make life blissful, were led by the promptings

of a lofty and self-sacrificing patriotism to devote their lives to

their country. He was killed in the severe battle of June 3, 1864. His

first wife who had deceased some years before was a sister of Margaret

Breckinridge, and the second who survived him was her cousin. One of the

delegates of the Christian Commission writes concerning him:--"Colonel

Peter B. Porter, of Niagara Falls, commanding the 8th New York heavy

artillery, was killed within five or six rods of the rebel lines. Seven

wounds were found upon his body. One in his neck, one between his

shoulders, one on the right side, and lower part of the stomach, one on

the left, and near his heart, and two in his legs. The evening before he

said, 'that if the charge was made he would not come out alive; but that

if required, he would go into it.' The last words heard from him were:

'_Boys, follow me._' We notice the following extract from his will,

which was made before entering the service, which shows the man:

"Feeling to its full extent the probability that I may not return from

the path of duty on which I have entered--if it please God that it be

so--I can say with truth I have entered on the career of danger with no

ambitious aspirations, nor with the idea that I am fitted by nature or

experience to be of any important service to the Government; but in

obedience to the call of duty demanding every citizen to contribute what

he could in means, labor, or life to sustain the government of his

country; a sacrifice made, too, the more willingly by me when I consider

how singularly benefited I have been by the institutions of this land,

and that up to this time all the blessings of life have been showered

upon me beyond what falls usually to the lot of man."]

MRS. STEPHEN BARKER

Mrs. Barker is a lady of great refinement and high culture, the sister

of the Hon. William Whiting, late Attorney-General of Massachusetts, and

the wife of the Rev. Stephen Barker, during the war, Chaplain of the

First Massachusetts Heavy Artillery.

This regiment was organized in July, 1861, as the Fourteenth

Massachusetts Infantry (but afterwards changed as above) under the

command of Colonel William B. Green, of Boston, and was immediately

ordered to Fort Albany, which was then an outpost of defense guarding

the Long Bridge over the Potomac, near Washington.

Having resolved to share the fortunes of this regiment in the service of

its hospitals, Mrs. Barker followed it to Washington in August, and

remained in that city six months before suitable quarters were arranged

for her at the fort.

During her stay in Washington, she spent much of her time in visiting

hospitals, and in ministering to their suffering inmates. Especially was

this the case with the E. Street Infirmary, which was destroyed by fire

in the autumn of that year. After the fire the inmates were distributed

to other hospitals, except a few whose wounds would not admit of a

removal. These were collected together in a small brick school-house,

which stands on the corner of the lot now occupied by the Judiciary

Square Hospital, and there was had the first Thanksgiving Dinner which

was given in an army hospital.

After dinner, which was made as nice and home-like as possible, they

played games of checkers, chess, and backgammon on some new boards

presented from the supplies of the Sanitary Commission, and Mrs. Barker

read aloud "The Cricket on the Hearth." This occupied all the afternoon

and made the day seem so short to these poor convalescents that they all

confessed afterwards that they had no idea, nor expectation that they

could so enjoy a day which they had hoped to spend at home; and they

always remembered and spoke of it with pleasure.

This was a new and entirely exceptional experience to Mrs. Barker. Like

all the ladies who have gone out as volunteer nurses or helps in the

hospitals, she had her whole duty to learn. In this she was aided by a

sound judgment, and an evident natural capacity and executive ability.

Without rules or instructions in hospital visiting, she had to learn by

experience the best methods of aiding sick soldiers without coming into

conflict with the regulations peculiar to military hospitals. Of course,

no useful work could be accomplished without the sanction and confidence

of the surgeons, and these could only be won by strict and honorable

obedience to orders.

The first duty was to learn what Government supplies could properly be

expected in the hospitals; next to be sure that where wanting they were

not withheld by the ignorance or carelessness of the sub-officials; and

lastly that the soldier was sincere and reliable in the statement of his

wants. By degrees these questions received their natural solution; and

the large discretionary power granted by the surgeons, and the generous

confidence and aid extended by the Sanitary Commission, in furnishing

whatever supplies she asked for, soon gave Mrs. Barker all the

facilities she desired for her useful and engrossing work.

In March, 1862, Mrs. Barker removed to Fort Albany, and systematically

commenced the work which had first induced her to leave her home. This

work was substantially the same that she had done in Washington, but was

confined to the Regimental Hospitals. But it was for many reasons

pleasanter and more interesting. As the wife of the Chaplain of the

Regiment, the men all recognized the fitness of her position, and she

shared with him all the duties, not strictly clerical, of his office,

finding great happiness in their mutual usefulness and sustaining power.

She also saw the same men oftener, and became better acquainted, and

more deeply interested in their individual conditions, and she had here

facilities at her command for the preparation of all the little luxuries

and delicacies demanded by special cases.

While the regiment held Fort Albany, and others of the forts forming the

defenses of Washington, the officers' quarters were always such as to

furnish a comfortable home, and Mrs. Barker had, consequently, none of

the exposures and hardships of those who followed the army and labored

in the field. As she, herself, has written in a private letter--"It was

no sacrifice to go to the army, because my husband was in it, and it

would have been much harder to stay at home than to go with him. * * * I

cannot even claim the merit of acting from a sense of _duty_--for I

wanted to work for the soldiers, and should have been desperately

disappointed had I been prevented from doing it."

And so, with a high heart, and an unselfish spirit, which disclaimed all

merit in sacrifice, and even the existence of the sacrifice, she entered

upon and fulfilled to the end the arduous and painful duties which

devolved upon her.

For nearly two years she continued in unremitting attendance upon the

regimental hospitals, except when briefly called home to the sick and

dying bed of her father.

All this time her dependence for hospital comforts was upon the Sanitary

Commission, for though the regiment was performing the duties of a

garrison it was not so considered by the War Department, and the

hospital received none of the furnishings it would have been entitled to

as a Post Hospital. Most of the hospital bedding and clothing, as well

as delicacies of diet came from the Sanitary Commission, and a little

money contributed from private sources helped to procure the needed

furniture. Mrs. Barker found this "camp life" absorbing and interesting.

She became identified with the regiment and was accustomed to speak of

it as a part of herself. And even more closely and intimately did she

identify herself with her suffering patients in the hospital.

On Sundays, while the chaplain was about his regular duties, she was

accustomed to have a little service of her own for the patients, which

mostly consisted in reading aloud a printed sermon of the Rev. Henry

Ward Beecher, which appeared in the Weekly Traveller, and which was

always listened to with eager interest.

The chaplain's quarters were close by the hospital, and at any hour of

the day and till a late hour of the night Mr. and Mrs. Barker could

assure themselves of the condition and wants of any of the patients, and

be instantly ready to minister to them. Mrs. Barker, especially, bore

them continually in her thoughts, and though not with them, her heart

and time were given to the work of consolation, either by adding to the

comforts of the body or the mind.

In January, 1864, it became evident to Mrs. Barker that she could serve

in the hospitals more effectually by living in Washington, than by

remaining at Fort Albany. She therefore offered her services to the

Sanitary Commission without other compensation than the expenses of her

board, and making no stipulation as to the nature of her duties, but

only that she might remain within reach of the regimental hospital, to

which she had so long been devoted.

Just at this time the Commission had determined to secure a more sure

and thorough personal distribution of the articles intended for

soldiers, and she was requested to become a visitor in certain hospitals

in Washington. It was desirable to visit bed-sides, as before, but

henceforth as a representative of the Sanitary Commission, with a wider

range of duties, and a proportionate increase of facilities. Soldiers

were complaining that they saw nothing of the Sanitary Commission, when

the shirts they wore, the fruits they ate, the stationery they used, and

numerous other comforts from the Commission abounded in the hospitals.

Mrs. Barker found that she had only to refuse the thanks which she

constantly received, and refer them to the proper object, to see a

marked change in the feeling of the sick toward the Sanitary Commission.

And she was so fully convinced of the beneficial results of this

remarkable organization, that she found the greatest pleasure in doing

this.

In all other respects her work was unchanged. There was the same need of

cheering influences--the writing of letters and procuring of books, and

obtaining of information. There were the thousand varied calls for

sympathy and care which kept one constantly on the keenest strain of

active life, so that she came to feel that no gift, grace, or

accomplishment could be spared without leaving something wanting of a

perfect woman's work in the hospitals.

Nine hospitals, in addition to the regimental hospital, which she still

thought of as her "own," were assigned her. Of these Harewood contained

nearly as many patients as all the others. During the summer of 1864,

its wards and tents held twenty-eight hundred patients. It was Mrs.

Barker's custom to commence here every Monday morning at the First Ward,

doing all she saw needful as she went along, and to go on as far as she

could before two o'clock, when she went to dinner. In the afternoon she

would visit one of the smaller hospitals, all of whose inmates she could

see in the course of one visit, and devote the whole afternoon entirely

to that hospital.

The next morning she would begin again at Harewood, where she stopped

the day before, doing all she could there, previous to two o'clock, and

devoting the afternoon to a smaller hospital. When Harewood was

finished, two hospitals might be visited in a day, and in this manner

she would complete the entire round weekly.

It was not necessary to speak to every man, for on being recognized as a

Sanitary Visitor the men would tell her their wants, and her eye was

sufficiently practiced to discern where undue shyness prevented any from

speaking of them. An assistant always went with her, who drove the

horses, and who, by his knowledge of German, was a great help in

understanding the foreign soldiers. They carried a variety of common

articles with them, so that the larger proportion of the wants could be

supplied on the spot. In this way a constant distribution was going on,

in all the hospitals of Washington, whereby the soldiers received what

was sent for them with certainty and promptness.

In the meantime the First Heavy Artillery had been ordered to join the

army before Petersburg. On the fourth day after it left the forts round

Washington, it lost two hundred men killed, wounded and taken prisoners.

As soon as the sick or wounded men began to be sent back to Washington,

Mrs. Barker was notified of it by her husband, and sought them out to

make them the objects of her special care.

At the same time the soldiers of this regiment, in the field, were

constantly confiding money and mementoes to Mr. Barker, to be sent to

Mrs. Barker by returning Sanitary Agents, and forwarded by her to their

families in New England. Often she gave up the entire day to the

preparation of these little packages for the express, and to the writing

of letters to each person who was to receive a package, containing

messages, and a request for a reply when the money was received. Large

as this business was, she never entrusted it to any hands but her own,

and though she sent over two thousand dollars in small sums, and

numerous mementoes, she never lost an article of all that were

transmitted by express.

But whatever she had on hand, it was, at this time, an especial duty to

attend to any person who desired a more thorough understanding of the

work of hospitals; and many days were thus spent with strangers who had

no other means of access to the information they desired, except through

one whose time could be given to such purposes.

These somewhat minute details of Mrs. Barker's labors are given as being

peculiar to the department of service in which she worked, and to which

she so conscientiously devoted herself for such a length of time.

In this way she toiled on until December, 1864, when a request was made

by the Women's Central Association that a hospital visitor might be sent

to the Soldiers' Aid Societies in the State of New York. Few of these

had ever seen a person actually engaged in hospital work, and it was

thought advisable to assure them that their labors were not only needed,

but that their results really reached and benefited the sick soldiers.

Mrs. Barker was chosen as this representative, and the programme

included the services of Mr. Barker, whose regiment was now mustered out

of service, as a lecturer before general audiences, while Mrs. Barker

met the Aid Societies in the same places. During the month of December,

1864, Mr. and Mrs. Barker, in pursuance of this plan, visited Harlem,

Brooklyn, Astoria, Hastings, Irvington, Rhinebeck, Albany, Troy, Rome,

Syracuse, Auburn, and Buffalo, presenting the needs of the soldier, and

the benefits of the work of the Sanitary Commission to the people

generally, and to the societies in particular, with great acceptance,

and to the ultimate benefit of the cause. This tour accomplished, Mrs.

Barker returned to her hospital work in Washington.

After the surrender of Lee's army, Mrs. Barker visited Richmond and

Petersburg, and as she walked the deserted streets of those fallen

cities, she felt that her work was nearly done. Almost four years, in

storm and in sunshine, in heat and in cold, in hope and in

discouragement she had ceaselessly toiled on; and all along her path

were strewed the blessings of thousands of grateful hearts.

The increasing heats of summer warned her that she could not withstand

the influences of another season of hard work in a warm climate, and on

the day of the assassination of President Lincoln, she left Washington

for Boston.

Mrs. Barker had been at home about six weeks when a new call for effort

came, on the return of the Army of the Potomac encamped around

Washington previous to its final march for home. To it was presently

added the Veterans of Sherman's grand march, and all were in a state of

destitution. The following extract from the _Report of the Field Relief

Service of the United States Sanitary Commission with the Armies of the

Potomac, Georgia, and Tennessee, in the Department of Washington, May

and June, 1865_, gives a much better idea of the work required than

could otherwise be presented.

"Armies, the aggregate strength of which must have exceeded two hundred

thousand men, were rapidly assembling around this city, previous, to the

grand review and their disbandment. These men were the travel-worn

veterans of Sherman, and the battle-stained heroes of the glorious old

Army of the Potomac, men of whom the nation is already proud, and whom

history will teach our children to venerate. Alas! that veterans require

more than 'field rations;' that heroes will wear out or throw away their

clothes, or become diseased with scurvy or chronic diarrhoea.

"The Army of the West had marched almost two thousand miles, subsisting

from Atlanta to the ocean almost wholly upon the country through which

it passed. When it entered the destitute regions of North Carolina and

Virginia it became affected with scorbutic diseases. A return to the

ordinary marching rations gave the men plenty to eat, but no vegetables.

Nor had foraging put them in a condition to bear renewed privation.

"The Commissary Department issued vegetables in such small quantities

that they did not affect the condition of the troops in any appreciable

degree. Surgeons immediately sought the Sanitary Commission. The demand

soon became greater than the supply. At first they wanted nothing but

vegetables, for having these, they said, all other discomforts would

become as nothing.

"After we had secured an organization through the return of agents and

the arrival of transportation, a division of labor was made, resulting

ultimately in three departments, more or less distinct. These were:

"First, the supply of vegetables;

"Second, the depots for hospital and miscellaneous supplies; and,

"Third, the visitation of troops for the purpose of direct distribution

of small articles of necessity or comfort."

These men, war-worn--and many of them sick--veterans, were without

money, often in rags, or destitute of needful clothing, and they were

not to be paid until they were mustered out of the service in their

respective States. Generous, thorough and rapid distribution was

desirable, and all the regular hospital visitors, as well as others

temporarily employed in the work, entered upon the duties of field

distribution. In twenty days, such was the system and expedition used,

every regiment, and all men on detached duty, had been visited and

supplied with necessaries on their camping grounds; and frequent

expressions of gratitude from officers and men, attested that a great

work had been successfully accomplished.

This was the conclusion of Mrs. Barker's army work, and what it was, how

thorough, kind, and every way excellent we cannot better tell than by

appending to this sketch her own report to the Chief of Field Relief

Corps.

"WASHINGTON, D. C., _June 29, 1865_.

"A. M. SPERRY--Sir: It was my privilege to witness the advance of

the army in the spring of 1862, and the care of soldiers in camp

and hospital having occupied all my time since then, it was

therefore gratifying to close my labors by welcoming the returning

army to the same camping grounds it left four years ago. The

circumstances under which it went forth and returned were so

unlike, the contrast between our tremulous farewell and our

exultant welcome so extreme, that it has been difficult to find an

expression suited to the hour. The Sanitary Commission adopted the

one method by which alone it could give for itself this expression.

It sent out its agents to visit every regiment and all soldiers on

detached duty, to ascertain and relieve their wants, and by words

and acts of kindness to assure them of the deep and heartfelt

gratitude of the nation for their heroic sufferings and

achievements.

"The Second, Fifth, Sixth, Ninth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth,

Seventeenth, and Twentieth army corps have been encamped about the

capital. They numbered over two hundred thousand men.

"Our first work was to establish stations for sanitary stores in

the camps, wherever it was practicable, to which soldiers might

come for the supply of their wants without the trouble of getting

passes into Washington. Our Field Relief Agents, who have followed

the army from point to point, called on the officers to inform them

of our storehouse for supplies of vegetables and pickles. The

report of the Superintendent of Field Relief will show how great a

work has been done for the army in these respects. How great has

been the need of a full and generous distribution of the articles

of food and clothing may be realized by the fact, that here were

men unpaid for the last six months, and yet to remain so till

mustered out of the service in their respective States; whose

government accounts were closed, with no sutlers in their

regiments, and no credit anywhere. Every market-day, numbers of

these war-worn veterans have been seen asking for some green

vegetable from the tempting piles, which were forbidden fruits to

them.

"In order to make our work in the army as thorough, rapid, and

effective as possible, it was decided to accept the services of the

'Hospital Visitors.' They have been at home in the hospitals ever

since the war began, but never in the camp. But we believed that

even here they would be safe, and the gifts they brought would be

more valued because brought by them.

"Six ladies have been employed by the Sanitary Commission as

Hospital Visitors. These were temporarily transferred from their

hospitals to the field.

"The Second and Fifth Corps were visited by Mrs. Steel and Miss

Abby Francis.

"The Sixth Corps by Mrs. Johnson, Miss Armstrong, and Mrs. Barker;

on in each division.

"The Ninth Corps by Miss Wallace, whose illness afterward obliged

her to yield her place to Mrs. Barker.

"The Fourteenth Corps by Miss Armstrong.

"The Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps by ladies belonging to those

corps--Mrs. Porter and Mrs. Bickerdyke--whose admirable services

rendered other presence superfluous.

"The Twentieth Corps was visited by Mrs. Johnson.

"The articles selected for their distribution were the same for all

the corps; while heavy articles of food and clothing were issued by

orders from the field agents, smaller articles--like towels,

handkerchiefs, stationery, sewing materials, combs, reading matter,

etc.--were left to the ladies.

"This division of labor has been followed, except in cases where no

field agent accompanied the lady, and there was no sanitary station

in the corps. Then the lady agent performed double duty. She was

provided with a vehicle, and followed by an army wagon loaded with

supplies sufficient for her day's distribution, which had been

drawn from the Commission storehouse upon a requisition approved by

the chief clerk. On arriving at the camp, her first call was at

headquarters, to obtain permission to distribute her little

articles, to learn how sick the men were, in quarters or in

hospital, and to find out the numbers in each company. The ladies

adopted two modes of issuing supplies: some called for the entire

company, giving into each man's hand the thing he needed; others

gave to the orderly sergeant of each company the same proportion of

each article, which he distributed to the men. The willing help and

heartfelt pleasure of the officers in distributing our gifts among

their men have added much to the respect and affection already felt

for them by the soldiers and their friends.

"In Mrs. Johnson's report of her work in the Twentieth Army Corps,

she says: 'In several instances officers have tendered the thanks

of their regiments, when they were so choked by tears as to render

their voices unheard.'

"I remember no scenes in camp more picturesque than some of our

visits have presented. The great open army wagon stands under some

shade-tree, with the officer who has volunteered to help, or the

regular Field Agent, standing in the midst of boxes, bales, and

bundles. Wheels, sides, and every projecting point are crowded with

eager soldiers, to see what 'the Sanitary' has brought for them. By

the side of the great wagon stands the light wagon of the lady,

with its curtains all rolled up, while she arranges before and

around her the supplies she is to distribute. Another eager crowd

surrounds her, patient, kind, and respectful as the first, except

that a shade more of softness in their look and tone attest to the

ever-living power of woman over the rough elements of manhood. In

these hours of personal communication with the soldier, she finds

the true meaning of her work. This is her golden opportunity, when

by look, and tone, and movement she may call up, as if by magic,

the pure influences of home, which may have been long banished by

the hard necessities of war. Quietly and rapidly the supplies are

handed out for Companies A, B, C, etc., first from one wagon, then

the other, and as soon as a regiment is completed the men hurry

back to their tents to receive their share, and write letters on

the newly received paper, or apply the long needed comb, or mend

the gaping seams in their now 'historic garments.' When at last the

supplies are exhausted, and sunset reminds us that we are yet many

miles from home, we gather up the remnants, bid good by to the

friendly faces which already seem like old acquaintances, promising

to come again to visit new regiments to-morrow, and hurry home to

prepare for the next day's work.

"Every day, from the first to the twentieth day of June, our little

band of missionaries has repeated a day's work such as I have now

described. Every regiment, except some which were sent home before

we were able to reach them, has shared alike in what we had to

give. And I think I speak for all in saying that among the many

pleasant memories connected with our sanitary work, the last but

not the least will be our share in the Field Relief.

"Yours respectfully,

"MRS. STEPHEN BARKER."

AMY M. BRADLEY

Very few individuals in our country are entirely ignorant of the

beneficent work performed by the Sanitary Commission during the late

war; and these, perhaps, are the only ones to whom the name of Amy M.

Bradley is unfamiliar. Very early in the war she commenced her work for

the soldiers, and did not discontinue it until some months after the

last battle was fought, completing fully her four years of service, and

making her name a synonym for active, judicious, earnest work from the

beginning to the end.

Amy M. Bradley is a native of East Vassalboro', Kennebec County, Maine,

where she was born September 12th, 1823, the youngest child of a large

family. At six years of age she met with the saddest of earthly losses,

in the death of her mother. From early life it would appear to have been

her lot to make her way in life by her own active exertions. Her father

ceased to keep house on the marriage of his older daughters, and from

that time until she was fifteen she lived alternately with them. Then

she made her first essay in teaching a small private school.

At sixteen she commenced life as a teacher of public schools, and

continued the same for more than ten years, or until 1850.

To illustrate her determined and persistent spirit during the first four

years of her life as a teacher she taught country schools during the

summer and winter, and during the spring and fall attended the academy

in her native town, working for her board in private families.

At the age of twenty-one, through the influence of Noah Woods, Esq., she

obtained an appointment as principal of one of the Grammar Schools in

Gardiner, Maine, where she remained until the fall of 1847. At the end

of that time she resigned and accepted an appointment as assistant in

the Winthrop Grammar School, Charlestown, Massachusetts, obtained for

her by her cousin, Stacy Baxter, Esq., the principal of the Harvard

Grammar School in the same city. There she remained until the winter of

1849-50, when she applied for a similar situation in the Putnam Grammar

School, East Cambridge (where higher salaries were paid) and was

successful. She remained, however, only until May, when a severe attack

of acute bronchitis so prostrated her strength as to quite unfit her for

her duties during the whole summer. She had previously suffered

repeatedly from pneumonia. Her situation was held for her until the

autumn, when finding her health not materially improved, she resigned

and prepared to spend the winter at the South in the family of a brother

residing at Charleston, South Carolina.

Miss Bradley returned from Charleston the following spring. Her winter

in the South had not benefited her as she had hoped and expected, and

she found herself unable to resume her occupation as a teacher.

During the next two years her active spirit chafed in forced idleness,

and life became almost a burden. In the autumn of 1853, going to

Charlestown and Cambridge to visit friends, she met the physician who

had attended her during the severe illness that terminated her

teacher-life. He examined her lungs, and gave it as his opinion that

only a removal to a warmer climate could preserve her life through

another winter, and that the following months of frost and cold spent in

the North must undoubtedly in her case develop pulmonary consumption.

To her these were words of doom. Not possessed of the means for

travelling, and unable, as she supposed, to obtain a livelihood in a

far off country, she returned to Maine, and resigned herself with what

calmness she might, to the fate in store for her.

But Providence had not yet developed the great work to which she was

appointed, and though sorely tried, and buffeted, she was not to be

permitted to leave this mortal scene until the objects of her life were

fulfilled. Through resignation to death she was, perhaps, best prepared

to live, and even in that season when earth seemed receding from her

view, the wise purposes of the Ruler of all in her behalf were being

worked out in what seemed to be an accidental manner.

In the family of her cousin, Mr. Baxter, at Charlestown, Massachusetts,

there had been living, for two years, three Spanish boys from Costa

Rica, Central America. Mr. Baxter was an instructor of youth and they

were his pupils. About this period their father arrived to fetch home a

daughter who was at school in New York, and to inquire what progress

these boys were making in their studies. He applied to Mr. Baxter to

recommend some lady who would be willing to go to Costa Rica for two or

three years to instruct his daughters in the English language. Mr.

Baxter at once recommended Miss Bradley as a suitable person and as

willing and desirous to undertake the journey. The situation was offered

and accepted, and in November, 1853, she set sail for Costa Rica.

After remaining a short time with the Spanish family, she accepted a

proposition from the American Consul, and accompanied his family to San

Jose, the Capital, among the mountains, some seventy miles from Punta

Arenas, where she opened a school receiving as pupils, English, Spanish,

German, and American children. This was the first English school

established in Central America. For three months she taught from a

blackboard, and at the end of that time received from New York, books,

maps, and all the needful apparatus for a permanent school.

This school she taught with success for three years. At the end of that

time learning that the health of her father, then eighty-three years of

age, was rapidly declining, and that he was unwilling to die without

seeing her, she disposed of the property and "good-will" of her school,

and as soon as possible bade adieu to Costa Rica. She reached home on

the 1st of June, 1857, after an absence of nearly four years. Her

father, however, survived for several months.

Her health which had greatly improved during her stay in the salubrious

climate of San Jose, where the temperature ranges at about 70 deg.

Fahrenheit the entire year, again yielded before the frosty rigors of a

winter in the Pine Tree State, and for a long time she was forced to

lead a very secluded life. She devoted herself to reading, to the study

of the French and German languages, and to teaching the Spanish, of

which she had become mistress during her residence in Costa Rica.

In the spring of 1861, she went to East Cambridge, where she obtained

the situation of translator for the New England Glass Company,

translating commercial letters from English to Spanish, or from Spanish

to English as occasion required.

This she would undoubtedly have found a pleasant and profitable

occupation, but the boom of the first gun fired at Sumter upon the old

flag stirred to a strange restlessness the spirit of the granddaughter

of one who starved to death on board the British Prison Ship Jersey,

during the revolution. She felt the earnest desire, but saw not the way

to personal action, until the first disastrous battle of Bull Run

prompted her to immediate effort.

She wrote to Dr. G. S. Palmer, Surgeon of the Fifth Regiment Maine

Volunteers, an old and valued friend, to offer her services in caring

for the sick and wounded. His reply was quaint and characteristic.

"There is no law at this end of the route, to prevent your coming; but

the law of humanity requires your immediate presence."

As soon as possible she started for the seat of war, and on the 1st of

September, 1861, commenced her services as nurse in the hospital of the

Fifth Maine Regiment.

The regiment had been enlisted to a great extent from the vicinity of

Gardiner, Maine, where, as we have said, she had taught for several

years, and among the soldiers both sick and well were a number of her

old pupils.

The morning after her arrival, Dr. Palmer called at her tent, and

invited her to accompany him through the hospital tents. There were four

of these, filled with fever cases, the result of exposure and hardship

at and after the battle of Bull Run.

In the second tent, were a number of patients delirious from the fever,

whom the surgeon proposed to send to Alexandria, to the General

Hospital. To one of these she spoke kindly, asking if he would like to

have anything; with a wild look, and evidently impressed with the idea

that he was about to be ordered on a long journey, he replied, "I would

like to see my mother and sisters before I go home." Miss Bradley was

much affected by his earnestness, and seeing that his recovery was

improbable, begged Dr. Palmer to let her care for him for his mother and

sisters' sake, until he went to his last home. He consented, and she

soon installed herself as nurse of most of the fever cases, several of

them her old pupils. From morning till night she was constantly employed

in ministering to these poor fellows, and her skill in nursing was often

of more service to them than medicine.

Colonel Oliver O. Howard, the present Major-General and Commissioner of

the Freedmen's Bureau, had been up to the end of September, 1861, in

command of the Fifth Maine Regiment, but at that time was promoted to

the command of a brigade; and Dr. Palmer was advanced to the post of

brigade surgeon, while Dr. Brickett succeeded to the surgeoncy of the

Fifth Regiment.

By dint of energy, tact and management, Miss Bradley had brought the

hospital into fine condition, having received cots from friends in

Maine, and supplies of delicacies and hospital clothing from the

Sanitary Commission. General Slocum, the new brigade commander, early in

October made his first round of inspection of the regimental hospitals

of the brigade. He found Dr. Brickett's far better arranged and supplied

than any of the others, and inquired why it was so. Dr. Brickett

answered that they had a Maine woman who understood the care of the

sick, to take charge of the hospital, and that she had drawn supplies

from the Sanitary Commission. General Slocum declared that he could have

no partiality in his brigade, and proposed to take two large buildings,

the Powell House and the Octagon House, as hospitals, and instal Miss

Bradley as lady superintendent of the Brigade Hospital. This was done

forthwith, and with further aid from the Sanitary Commission, as the

Medical Bureau had not yet made any arrangement for brigade hospitals,

Miss Bradley assisted by the zealous detailed nurses from the brigade

soon gave these two houses a decided "home" appearance. The two

buildings would accommodate about seventy-five patients, and were soon

filled. Miss Bradley took a personal interest in each case, as if they

were her own brothers, and by dint of skilful nursing raised many of

them from the grasp of death.

A journal which she kept of her most serious cases, illustrates very

forcibly her deep interest and regard for all "her dear boys" as she

called them. She would not give them up, even when the surgeon

pronounced their cases hopeless, and though she could not always save

them from death, she undoubtedly prolonged life in many instances by her

assiduous nursing.

On the 10th of March, 1862, Centreville, Virginia, having been evacuated

by the rebels, the brigade to which Miss Bradley was attached were

ordered to occupy it, and five days later the Brigade Hospital was

broken up and the patients distributed, part to Alexandria, and part to

Fairfax Seminary General Hospital. In the early part of April Miss

Bradley moved with the division to Warrenton Junction, and after a

week's stay in and about Manassas the order came to return to Alexandria

and embark for Yorktown. Returning to Washington, she now offered her

services to the Sanitary Commission, and on the 4th of May was summoned

by a telegraphic despatch from Mr. F. L. Olmstead, the energetic and

efficient Secretary of the Commission, to come at once to Yorktown. On

the 6th of May she reached Fortress Monroe, and on the 7th was assigned

to the Ocean Queen as lady superintendent. We shall give some account of

her labors here when we come to speak of the Hospital Transport service.

Suffice it to say, in this place that her services which were very

arduous, were continued either on the hospital ships or on the shore

until the Army of the Potomac left the Peninsula for Acquia Creek and

Alexandria, and that in several instances her kindness to wounded rebel

officers and soldiers, led them to abandon the rebel service and become

hearty, loyal Union men. She accompanied the flag of truce boat three

times, when the Union wounded were exchanged, and witnessed some painful

scenes, though the rebel authorities had not then begun to treat our

prisoners with such cruelty as they did later in the war. Early in

August she accompanied the sick and wounded men on the steamers from

Harrison's Landing to Philadelphia, where they were distributed among

the hospitals. During all this period of hospital transport service, she

had had the assistance of that noble, faithful, worker Miss Annie

Etheridge, the "Gentle Annie" of the Third Michigan regiment, of whom we

shall have more to say in another place. For a few days, after the

transfer of the troops to the vicinity of Washington, Miss Bradley

remained unoccupied, and endeavored by rest and quiet to recover her

health, which had been much impaired by her severe labors.

A place was, however, in preparation for her, which, while it would

bring her less constantly in contact with the fearful wounds and

terrible sufferings of the soldiers in the field, would require more

administrative ability and higher business qualities than she had yet

been called to exercise.

The Sanitary Commission in their desire to do what they could for the

soldier, had planned the establishment of a Home at Washington, where

the private soldier could go and remain for a few days while awaiting

orders, without being the prey of the unprincipled villains who

neglected no opportunity of fleecing every man connected with the army,

whom they could entice into their dens; where those who were recovering

from serious illness or wounds could receive the care and attention they

needed; where their clothing often travel-stained and burdened with the

"Sacred Soil of Virginia," could be exchanged for new, and the old

washed, cleansed and repaired. It was desirable that this Home should be

invested with a "home" aspect; that books, newspapers and music should

be provided, as well as wholesome and attractive food, and that the

presence of woman and her kindly and gentle ministrations, should exert

what influence they might to recall vividly to the soldier the _home_ he

had left in a distant state, and to quicken its power of influencing him

to higher and purer conduct, and more earnest valor, to preserve the

institutions which had made that home what it was.

Rev. F. N. Knapp, the Assistant Secretary of the Commission, on whom

devolved the duty of establishing this Home, had had opportunity of

observing Miss Bradley's executive ability in the Hospital Transport

Service, as well as in the management of a brigade hospital, and he

selected her at once, to take charge of the Home, arrange all its

details, and act as its Matron. She accepted the post, and performed its

duties admirably, accommodating at times a hundred and twenty at once,

and by her neatness, good order and cheerful tact, dispensing happiness

among those who, poor fellows, had hitherto found little to cheer them.

But her active and energetic nature was not satisfied with her work at

the Soldiers' Home. Her leisure hours, (and with her prompt business

habits, she secured some of these every day), were consecrated to

visiting the numerous hospitals in and around Washington, and if she

found the surgeons or assistant surgeons negligent and inattentive, they

were promptly reported to the medical director. The condition of the

hospitals in the city was, however, much better than that of the

hospitals and convalescent camps over the river, in Virginia. A visit

which she made to one of these, significantly named by the soldiers,

"Camp Misery," in September, 1862, revealed to her, wretchedness,

suffering and neglect, such as she had not before witnessed; and she

promptly secured from the Sanitary Commission such supplies as were

needed, and in her frequent visits there for the next three months,

distributed them with her own hands, while she encouraged and promoted

such changes in the management and arrangements of the camp as greatly

improved its condition.

This "Camp Misery" was the original Camp of Distribution, to which were

sent, 1st, men discharged from all the hospitals about Washington, as

well as the regimental, brigade, division and post hospitals, as

convalescent, or as unfit for duty, preparatory to their final discharge

from the army; 2d, stragglers and deserters, recaptured and collected

here preparatory to being forwarded to their regiments; 3d, new recruits

awaiting orders to join regiments in the field. Numerous attempts had

been made to improve the condition of this camp, but owing to the small

number and inefficiency of the officers detailed to the command, it had

constantly grown worse. The convalescents, numbering nine or ten

thousand, were lodged, in the depth of a very severe winter, in wedge

and Sibley tents, without floors, with no fires, or means of making any,

amid deep mud or frozen clods, and were very poorly supplied with

clothing, and many of them without blankets. Under such circumstances,

it was not to be expected that their health could improve. The

stragglers and deserters and the new recruits were even worse off than

the convalescents. The assistant surgeon and his acting assistants, up

to the last of October, 1862, were too inexperienced to be competent for

their duties.

In December, 1862, orders were issued by the Government for the

construction of a new Rendezvous of Distribution, at a point near Fort

Barnard, Virginia, on the Loudon and Hampshire Railroad, the erection of

new and more comfortable barracks, and the removal of the men from the

old camp to it. The barracks for the convalescents were fifty in number

and intended for the accommodation of one hundred men each, and they

were completed in February, 1863, and the new regulations and the

appointment of new and efficient officers, greatly improved the

condition of the Rendezvous.

In December, 1862, while the men were yet in Camp Misery, Miss Bradley

was sent there as the Special Relief Agent of the Sanitary Commission,

and took up her quarters there. As we have said the condition of the men

was deplorable. She arrived on the 17th of December, and after setting

up her tents, and arranging her little hospital, cook-room, store-room,

wash-room, bath-room, and office, so as to be able to serve the men most

effectually, she passed round with the officers, as the men were drawn

up in line for inspection, and supplied seventy-five men with woollen

shirts, giving only to the _very_ needy. In her hospital tents she soon

had forty patients, all of them men who had been discharged from the

hospitals as well; these were washed, supplied with clean clothing,

warmed, fed and nursed. Others had discharge papers awaiting them, but

were too feeble to stand in the cold and wet till their turn came. She

obtained them for them, and sent the poor invalids to the Soldiers' Home

in Washington, _en route_ for their own homes. From May 1st to December

31st, 1863, she conveyed more than two thousand discharged soldiers from

the Rendezvous of Distribution to the Commission's Lodges at Washington;

most of them men suffering from incurable disease, and who but for her

kind ministrations must most of them have perished in the attempt to

reach their homes. In four months after she commenced her work she had

had in her little hospital one hundred and thirty patients, of whom

fifteen died. For these patients as well as for other invalids who were

unable to write she wrote letters to their friends, and to the friends

of the dead she sent full accounts of the last hours of their lost ones.

The discharged men, and many of those who were on record unjustly as

deserters, through some informality in their papers, often found great

difficulty in obtaining their pay, and sometimes could not ascertain

satisfactorily how much was due them, in consequence of errors on the

part of the regimental or company officers. Miss Bradley was

indefatigable in her efforts to secure the correction of these papers,

and the prompt payment of the amounts due to these poor men, many of

whom, but for her exertion, would have suffered on their arrival at

their distant homes. Between May 1st and December 31st, 1863, she

procured the reinstatement of one hundred and fifty soldiers who had

been dropped from their muster rolls unjustly as deserters, and secured

their arrears of pay to them, amounting in all to nearly eight thousand

dollars.

On the 8th of February, 1864, the convalescents were, by general orders

from the War Department, removed to the general hospitals in and about

Washington, and the name changed from Camp Distribution to Rendezvous of

Distribution, and only stragglers and deserters, and the recruits

awaiting orders, or other men fit for duty were to be allowed there. For

nearly two months Miss Bradley was confined to her quarters by severe

illness. On her recovery she pushed forward an enterprise on which she

had set her heart, of establishing a weekly paper at the Rendezvous, to

be called "The Soldiers' Journal," which should be a medium of

contributions from all the more intelligent soldiers in the camp, and

the profits from which (if any accrued), should be devoted to the relief

of the children of deceased soldiers. On the 17th of February the first

number of "The Soldiers' Journal" appeared, a quarto sheet of eight

pages; it was conducted with considerable ability and was continued till

the breaking up of the Rendezvous and hospital, August 22, 1865, just a

year and a half. The profits of the paper were twenty-one hundred and

fifty-five dollars and seventy-five cents, beside the value of the

printing-press and materials, which amount was held for the benefit of

orphans of soldiers who had been connected with the camp, and was

increased by contributions from other sources. Miss Bradley, though the

proprietor, was not for any considerable period the avowed editor of the

paper, Mr. R. A. Cassidy, and subsequently Mr. Thomas V. Cooper, acting

in that capacity, but she was a large contributor to its columns, and

her poetical contributions which appeared in almost every number,

indicated deep emotional sensibilities, and considerable poetic talent.

Aside from its interesting reading matter, the Journal gave instructions

to the soldiers in relation to the procurement of the pay and clothing

to which they were entitled; the requisites demanded by the government

for the granting of furloughs; and the method of procuring prompt

settlement of their accounts with the government without the

interference of claim agents. During the greater part of 1864, and in

1865, until the hospital was closed, Miss Bradley, in addition to her

other duties, was Superintendent of Special Diet to the Augur General

Hospital, and received and forwarded from the soldiers to their friends,

about forty-nine hundred and twenty-five dollars.

The officers and soldiers of the Rendezvous of Distribution were not

forgetful of the unwearied labors of Miss Bradley for their benefit. On

the 22d of February, 1864, she was presented with an elegant gold watch

and chain, the gift of the officers and private soldiers of Camp

Convalescent, then just broken up. The gift was accompanied with a very

appropriate address from the chaplain of the camp, Rev. William J.

Potter. She succeeded in winning the regard and esteem of all with whom

she was associated. When, in August, 1865, she retired from the service

of The Sanitary Commission, its secretary, John S. Blatchford, Esq.,

addressed her in a letter expressive of the high sense the Commission

entertained of her labors, and the great good she had accomplished, and

the Treasurer of the Commission forwarded her a check as for salary for

so much of the year 1865 as was passed, to enable her to take the rest

and relaxation from continuous labor which she so greatly needed. In

person Miss Bradley is small, erect, and possesses an interesting and

attractive face, thoughtful, and giving evidence in the lines of the

mouth and chin, of executive ability, energy and perseverance. Her

manners are easy, graceful and winning, and she evinces in a marked

degree the possession of that not easily described talent, of which our

record furnishes numerous examples, which the Autocrat of the Breakfast

Table calls "faculty."

MRS. ARABELLA G. BARLOW.

A romantic interest encircles the career of this brilliant and estimable

lady, which is saddened by her early doom, and the grief of her young

husband bereaved before Peace had brought him that quiet domestic

felicity for which he doubtless longed.