Immediately after their return to Cairo, they left for Savannah and

Pittsburg Landing, on the Tennessee River. They took from the latter

place two hundred and fifty men, leaving again before the battle of

Shiloh. This took place immediately after they left, and they ran up to

St. Louis, landed their freight of wounded, and returned immediately for

another load.

Two hundred and seventy-five desperately wounded men from the battle of

Shiloh, formed this load. They quickly made their way Northward with

their freight of misery and suffering. This was beyond the power of the

imagination to conceive, and the nurses were too busy in their cares to

sleep or eat. The sorrowful labor was at last performed, the wounded

were transferred to the hospitals at St. Louis, and Mrs. Colfax returned

to her duties there.

After remaining some time in the Fifth Street Hospital, and making

occasional trips on the Hospital-boats, Mrs. Colfax was sent to the

Hospital at Jefferson Barracks, where she remained a long time, and

where her services, so eminently kind, efficient and womanly, met the

success they so much deserved.

She remained in the service as a hospital nurse two years and a half.

Except while on the hospital boats, and during brief stays at the

various hospitals of the South-west, while attached to the Transport

Service, she spent the entire time at Fifth Street Hospital, St. Louis,

and at Jefferson Barracks. In each and every place her services were

alike meritorious, and though she encountered many annoyances, and

unpleasant incidents, she does not now regret the time and labor she

bestowed in doing her share of the woman's work of the war.

Like all earnest, unselfish workers, in this eminently unselfish

service, Mrs. Colfax delights to bear testimony to the efficient labors

of others.

All who worked with her were her friends, and she has the fullest

appreciation of their best qualities, and their earnest efforts. Among

those she names thus feelingly, are Mrs. Plummer, the matron of the

Fifth Street Hospital, St. Louis, Miss Addie E. Johnson, Mrs. Gibson,

and others, her fellow-workers there.

Early in 1864, quite worn out with her protracted labors, Mrs. Colfax

returned to her home in Michigan City, where she still resides, honored,

beloved and respected, as her character and services demand.

MISS CLARA DAVIS.

This lady, now the wife of the Rev. Edward Abbott, of Cambridgeport,

Massachusetts, was one of the earliest, most indefatigable and useful of

the laborers for Union soldiers during the war. Her labors commenced

early in the winter of 1861-62, in the hospitals of Philadelphia, in

which city she was then residing.

Her visits were at first confined to the Broad and Cherry Street

Hospital, and her purpose at first was to minister entirely to the

religious wants of the sick, wounded and dying soldiers. Her interest in

the inmates of that institution was never permitted to die out.

It was not patriotism,--for Miss Davis was not a native of this

country--but rather a profound sympathy with the cause in which they

were engaged which led her, in company with the late Rev. Dr. Vaughan of

Philadelphia (of whose family she was an inmate) to visit this place and

aid him in his philanthropic and official duties. The necessity of the

case led her to labor regularly and assiduously to supply the lack of

many comforts which was felt here, and the need of woman's nursing and

comforting ways. By the month of May, ensuing, she was giving up her

whole time to these ministrations, and this at a considerable sacrifice,

and extending her efforts so as to alleviate the temporal condition of

the sufferers, as well as to minister to their spiritual ones.

In the early part of this summer, memorable as the season of the

Peninsula Campaign, she, in company with Mrs. M. M. Husband, of

Philadelphia, entered upon the transport service on the James and

Potomac Rivers, principally on board the steamer "John Brooks"--passing

to and fro with the sick and wounded between Harrison's Landing,

Fortress Monroe and Philadelphia. This joint campaign ended with a

sojourn of two months at Mile Creek Hospital, Fortress Monroe.

Her friend, Mrs. H. thus speaks of her. "A more lovely Christian

character, a more unselfishly devoted person, than Miss Davis, I have

never known. Her happy manner of approaching the soldiers, especially

upon religious subjects, was unequalled; the greatest scoffer would

listen to her with respect and attention, while the majority followed

her with a glance of veneration as if she were a being of a superior

order. I heard one say, 'there must be wings hidden beneath her cloak.'"

After leaving Fortress Monroe, Miss Davis returned to Philadelphia, and

recruited her supplies for the use of the soldiers. She was anxious to

be permitted to serve in the field hospitals, but owing to unusual

strictness of regulation at that time, she was not permitted to do so.

Later in the season she accompanied Mrs. Husband to Frederick City,

Harper's Ferry and Antietam, at which latter place, by the invitation of

Surgeon Vanderkieft, and Miss Hall, she remained several weeks doing

very acceptable service.

During the winter of 1863 she renewed her efforts to gain permission to

serve in the field hospitals of the army, then in winter quarters

between Falmouth and Acquia Creek, but was again repulsed. In the spring

she once more renewed her efforts, but without success. Again visiting

Washington, she was requested to become the agent of the Sanitary

Commission, at Camp Parole, Annapolis, Maryland.

She commenced her laborious duties at Camp Parole about the 1st of May,

1863. She made numerous friends here, among all classes with whom she

came in contact, and did a most admirable work among the returned

prisoners. She remained here the whole summer, never allowing herself

one day's absence, until October. She suffered from ague, and her labors

were far too great for her strength. Camp, or typhoid fever, seized her,

and after long striving against weakness and pain, she was obliged to

return to her home to recruit. She made great efforts to again take up

her work where she had been obliged to leave it, but her strength would

not admit.

She did not recover from this illness until the following February, nor

even then could she be said to have fully recovered. As soon as the

state of her health permitted, indeed before her physician gave his

consent, she resumed her labors at Camp Parole, but in a few weeks the

fever set in again, and further service was rendered impossible. Thus

closed the ministrations in field and hospital, of one, of whom a friend

who knew her well, and appreciated her fully, simply says, "Her deeds

were beyond praise."

Her health was so undermined by her labors, that it has never been fully

recovered, and she still suffers, as she perhaps will to the end of her

life, from the weakness and diseases induced, by her unwonted exertions,

and the fevers which so greatly prostrated her.

Nearly two years, as we have seen, she gave to her labors in camp and

hospital, labors which, as we have seen, were principally directed to

the relief of physical sufferings, though she never forgot to mingle

with them the spiritual ministrations which were the peculiar feature of

her usefulness.

The interest of Miss Davis was not limited to soldiers in hospitals, any

more than were her labors confined to efforts for their relief. From her

numerous friends, and from societies, she was in constant receipt of

money, delicacies, reading matter, and many other things, both valuable

and useful to the soldiers, and not embraced in the government supplies,

nor sold by sutlers. These she distributed among both sick and well, as

their needs required.

"She corresponded largely with the friends of sick soldiers; she

represented their needs to those who had the means to relieve them; she

used her influence in obtaining furloughs for the convalescents, and

discharges for the incurables; she importuned tape-bound officials for

passes, that the remains of the poor unpaid soldier might be buried

beside his parents; she erected head-boards at every soldier's grave at

that time in the cemetery at West Philadelphia, as a temporary memorial

and record."

In the heat of Virginian summers, and the inclement winters, it was with

her the same steady unchanged work, till sickness put an end to her

labors. Till the last her intercourse with the soldiers was always both

pleasant, and in the highest sense profitable.

MRS. R. H. SPENCER.

Of all the band of noble women who during the war gave their time and

best labors with devotedness and singleness of purpose to the care of

the suffering defenders of their country, few, perhaps, have been as

efficient and useful in their chosen sphere as Mrs. Spencer.

That she left a home of quiet ease and comfort, and gave herself, with

her whole soul, to the cause she loved, is not more than very many

others have done, but she incited her husband to offer himself to his

country, and gladly accompanied him, sharing all his privations, and

creating for him, amid the rudest surroundings, home with all its

comforts and enjoyments.

At the commencement of the war, Mrs. Spencer was living at Oswego, New

York, which had been her residence for many years. Her husband, Captain

R. H. Spencer, had been formerly commander of several of the finest

vessels which sail from that port in the trade upon the upper lakes. But

for some years he had remained on shore, and devoted himself to the

occupation of teaching, in which he had a very fine reputation. Mrs.

Spencer was also a teacher, and both were connected with the public

schools for which that city is celebrated.

Mr. Spencer was a member of that wing of the Democratic party which

opposed the war, and his age already exempted him from military duty.

[Illustration: MRS. R. H. SPENCER.

Eng^d. by A.B. Walter.]

When, therefore, immediately after the battle of Antietam he announced

to Mrs. Spencer that he had resolved to enlist in the Regiment then

rapidly forming in that city, she knew well, as did all who knew him,

that only an imperative sense of personal duty had led to the decision.

Oswego had to mourn the most irreparable losses in that battle. The

flower of her young men had been cut down, and many homes made desolate.

Mr. Spencer, like many others, felt impelled to add himself to the

patriot ranks, and help to fill the gaps left by the fallen.

Mrs. Spencer, whose name and person had long been familiar to the sick

and suffering at home, had often longed for the power of ministering to

those who had taken their lives in their hands, and gone forth in the

service of their country. And she now not only gave her husband to the

work, but resolved to aid him in it. She might not stand by his side, in

the armed ranks, but there was, for her, service as arduous and

important, for which she was peculiarly fitted, not only by the extreme

kindness and benevolence of her nature, but by experience in the care of

the sick.

When her husband had enlisted and was sworn into the service, she, too,

took the oath to faithfully serve her country, and her place by his

side.

The regiment (one hundred and forty-seventh New York) left Oswego the

27th of September, 1862, and arrived in Washington the 1st of October.

Mrs. Spencer, fatigued and ill, overcome with the excitement of

preparation, perhaps, and the grief of parting with her friends, found

herself thus in a strange city and upon the threshold of a strange new

life. She obtained a little sleep upon a bench outside the Soldiers'

Rest, and though scarcely refreshed commenced her duties early on the

following morning by feeding from her own stores six wounded men from

the battle of Antietam, who had arrived during the night. After making

tea for them, and doing all she could for their comfort, she was obliged

to leave, as the regiment was _en route_ for Arlington Heights.

Mrs. Spencer remained in the neighborhood of Washington until the middle

of the December following. The regiment had gone forward some time

previously, leaving herself and husband in charge of the hospital

stores. Her husband was ward-master of the hospital, and she was matron

and nurse.

When the hospital tents and stores were sent to Acquia Creek, to the

regiment, Mr. and Mrs. Spencer remained for a time to care for the sick

and wounded in Washington, and volunteered to take care of the wounded

from the first battle of Fredericksburg, who were brought to the Patent

Office.

On the 12th of January Mr. Spencer went to join the regiment at

Falmouth, while Mrs. Spencer proceeded to New York for supplies, and on

the 17th returned and joined the regiment at Belle Plain, proceeding

almost immediately to Wind Mill Point, in company with the sick and

wounded removed thither. Here she remained six months, engaged in her

arduous duties as matron in the hospital of the First Corps, to which

her husband was also attached.

From this place they were transferred to Belle Plain, and after a short

stay from thence to Acquia Creek, where they remained attached to the

hospital until the 13th of June, when they were ordered to report to

their regiment, then lying near Falmouth.

Mrs. Spencer had by this time, by much practice, become an expert

horse-woman, often foraging on her own account for supplies for the sick

and wounded under her care. By the order of Dr. Hurd, the Medical

Director of the First Corps, she took with her the horse she had been

accustomed to ride, and a few days afterwards commenced on horseback the

march to Gettysburg--now become historical.

Nearly two weeks were consumed in this march, one of which was spent in

an encampment on Broad Run.

Mrs. Spencer's horse carried, besides herself, her bedding, sundry

utensils for cooking, and a scanty supply of clothing, about three

hundred and fifty pounds of supplies for the sick. In addition to this

she often took charge of huge piles of coats belonging to the weary men,

which otherwise they would have thrown away as superfluous during the

intense heat of midday, to miss them sorely afterward amid the twilight

dews, or the drenching rains.

The battle had already commenced as the long slow-moving train, to which

they were attached, approached Gettysburg, and the awful roar of cannon

and the scattering rattle of musketry reached their ears.

The day previous an ammunition-wagon in their train had exploded, and

Mrs. Spencer had torn up the thick comforter which usually formed her

bed, that the driver of the wagon, who was fearfully burned, might be

wrapped in the cotton and bandaged by the calico of which it was made.

Mr. Spencer remained to care for the man, and at night--a dark and rainy

night--she found herself for the first time separated from her husband,

and unprotected by any friend. But the respectful and chivalric

instincts of American soldiers proved sufficient for her defense against

any evil that might have menaced her. They spread their rubber blankets

upon the muddy ground, and made a sort of tent with others, into which

she crept and slept guarded and secure through the long dark hours. At

morning they vied with each other in preparing her breakfast, and

waiting upon her with every possible respect and attention, and she went

on her way, rested and refreshed.

In the course of the morning Mr. Spencer rejoined her. After the firing

was heard, telling the tale of the awful conflict that was progressing,

she felt that she could no longer remain with the halting train, but

must press on to some point where her work of mercy might commence.

This was found in an unoccupied barn, not far from the field, where, by

the assistance of her husband, she got a fire and soon had her

camp-kettles filled with fragrant coffee, which she distributed to

every weary and wounded man who applied for the refreshing beverage.

Wounded in considerable numbers from the Eleventh Corps were placed in

this barn to gain which they crossed the fields between two rows of

artillery, stationed there. Mrs. Spencer had two knapsacks and two

haversacks suspended from her saddle, and supplied with materials for

making tea, coffee and beef-tea--with these and crackers, she contrived

to provide refreshment. Meanwhile the balls and shells were falling fast

around the barn, and orders came to move further back.

But this brave woman with her husband chose to move forward rather, in

search of her own regiment, though the enemy were then gaining upon the

Union troops. As they went on toward the battle, they found their

regiment stationed on a hill above them, and halting they made a fire

and prepared refreshments which they gave to all they could reach.

While working here the Surgeon of the First Division came hurrying past,

and peremptorily called on Mrs. Spencer to go and help form a hospital.

When she and Mr. Spencer found that many men of their own regiment were

in the train of ambulances which was going slowly past with the

sufferers, they followed.

They crossed to the White Church, on the Baltimore turnpike, about four

miles from Gettysburg, and reached there after dark. They had sixty

wounded undergoing every variety of suffering and torture. The church

was small, having but one aisle, and the narrow seats were fixtures. A

small building adjoining provided boards which were laid on the tops of

the seats, and covered with straw, and on these the wounded were laid.

The supply train had been sent back fourteen miles. A number of surgeons

were there, but none had instruments, and could do very little for the

wounded, and Mrs. Spencer found the stores contained in her knapsacks

and haversacks most useful in refreshing these sufferers.

In the course of a few days the confusion subsided. The hospital was

thoroughly organized. The Sanitary and Christian Commissions and the

people came and aided them, and order came out of the chaos that

followed this awful battle.

On the 5th of July, the buildings and tents which formed this hospital

contained over six hundred Union troops, and more than one hundred

wounded prisoners, and Mrs. Spencer found herself constantly and fully

employed, nursing the wounded, and daily riding into town for supplies.

It was here that she gained, and very justly as it would seem, the

credit of saving the life of a wounded soldier, a townsman of her own.

The man was shot in the mouth and throat, a huge gaping orifice on the

side of his neck showing where the ball found exit. The surgeons gave

him but a few days to live, as he could swallow nothing, the liquids

which were all he even could attempt to take, passing out by the wound.

Tearfully he besought Mrs. Spencer's aid. Young and strong, and full of

life, he could not contemplate a death of slow starvation. Mrs. Spencer

went to the surgeons and besought their aid. None of them could give

hope, for none conceived the strength of will in nurse or patient.

"Do as I tell you ----, and you shall not die," said Mrs. Spencer. "Can

you bear to go without food a week?"

Gratefully the man signed "yes," and with the tough unyielding patience

of a hero, he bore the pains of wound and hunger. In the meantime the

chief appliance was the basin of pure cold water from which he was

directed to keep his wound continually wet, that horrid wound which it

seemed no human skill could heal.

In a few days the inflammation began to subside, even the surgeons

decided the symptoms good, and began to watch the case with interest.

The ragged edges of the wound, when the swelling subsided, could be

closed up. Then, by direction of his kind nurse, he plunged his face

into a basin of broth, and supped from it strength, since it did not

all escape from the still unhealed wound. Every day witnessed an

improvement. In a little time he took his food like a human being; each

day witnessed new strength and healing, and then he was saved, and the

nurse proved wiser, for once, than the doctor!

For three weeks Mrs. Spencer remained in the White Church Hospital. She

then accompanied some wounded to New York City, and took a brief respite

from her duties, and the awful scenes she had witnessed.

On her return to Gettysburg, she received as a mark of the esteem felt

for her by those who had witnessed her labors and devotion to the work,

and the confidence reposed in her, the appointment of Agent of the State

of New York, in the care of its sick and wounded soldiers in the field.

Large discretionary powers, both as to the purchase and the distribution

of supplies, were granted her; and every effort was made to have this

appointment distinguished as a mark of the high appreciation and esteem

which she had won in the discharge of her duties.

As her husband was detailed as clerk in the Medical Purveyor's Office,

at Gettysburg, she remained there in the active performance of her

duties for a considerable time.

Beside the supplies furnished by the State of New York, a large amount

were entrusted to her, by various Ladies' Aid Societies, and kindred

associations.

After leaving Gettysburg, Mrs. Spencer was variously but usefully

employed at various places, and in various ways, but always making her

duties as State agent for the New York troops prominent, and of the

first importance. She was for some time at Brandy Station. While there

her husband received his discharge from the Volunteer Service, but

immediately entered the regular service, as Hospital Steward, and was

attached to the Medical Purveyor's Department.

From Brandy Station, Mrs. Spencer went to Alexandria, and remained there

until after the battle of the Wilderness, when she was ordered by the

Surgeon-General to repair to Rappahannock Station, with needful supplies

for the wounded. On arriving there, no wounded were found, and it was

rumored that the ambulances containing them had been intercepted by the

enemy, and turned another way.

The party therefore returned to Alexandria, and there received orders to

repair with stores to Belle Plain. The Steamer on which Mrs. Spencer

was, arrived at day-break at its destination, but she could not for some

time get on shore. As soon as possible she landed, anxious to let her

services be of some avail to the many wounded who stood in immediate

need of assistance, and thinking she might at least make coffee or tea

for some of them.

After distributing what supplies she had, she found in another part of

the field several Theological Students, delegates of the Sanitary

Commission, who were making coffee in camp kettles for the wounded. Her

services were thankfully accepted by them. All the day, and far into the

night they worked, standing inches deep in the tenacious Virginia mud,

till thousands had been served.

All the afternoon the wounded were arriving. Thousands were laid upon

the ground, upon the hill-side, perhaps under the shelter of a bush,

perhaps with only the sky above them, from which the rain poured in

torrents.

All with scarcely an exception were patient, cheerful, and

thoughtful--when asked as to their own condition, seeming more troubled

by the risk she ran in taking cold, than of their own sufferings.

Late in the night, she remembered that she was alone, and must rest

somewhere. A wagon driver willingly gave her his place in the wagon, and

thoroughly drenched with rain, and covered with mud, she there rested

for the first time in many hours. Her sad and anxious thoughts with her

physical discomforts prevented sleep, but with the dawn she had rested

so much, as to be able to resume her labors.

Another, and another day passed. The wounded from those fearful battles

continued to arrive, and to be cared for, as well as was possible under

the circumstances. The workers were shortly afterward made as

comfortable as was possible. For two weeks Mrs. Spencer remained, and

labored at Belle Plain, remained till her clothing of which, not

expecting to remain, she had brought no change, was nearly worn out. The

need was so pressing, of care for the wounded, that she scarcely thought

of herself.

In the latter part of May, she left Belle Plain, and went to Port Royal,

where similar scenes were enacted, save that there a shelter was

provided. She had joined forces with the Sanitary Commission, and the

facilities were now good and the workers numerous, yet it was barely

possible, with all these, and with Government and Commission supplies,

and private contributions, to feed the applicants.

The Medical Purveyor's boat with her husband on board, having arrived,

Mrs. Spencer proceeded on that boat to White House, where she was placed

in Superintendence of the Government Cooking Barge, continuing at the

same time her supervision of the wants of the New York soldiery.

Here they fed the first wounded who arrived from the field, and here

Mrs. Spencer continued many days directing the feeding of thousands

more, ever remembering the regiments from her own State, as her special

charge, and assisted by many volunteers and others in her arduous task.

On the 18th of June, 1864, Mrs. Spencer arrived at City Point. The

wounded were still arriving, and there was enough for all to do. A

Hospital was here established, a mile from the landing. The Government

kitchen was kept up, till the hospitals and their kitchens were in full

operation, when it was discontinued, and Mrs. Spencer relieved from her

double task.

From that time, Mrs. Spencer confined herself mostly to the duties of

her agency, and continued to make City Point her headquarters and base

of operations until the close of the war closed the agency, and left

her free once again to seek the welcome seclusion of her home.

She occasionally visited the General Hospitals to distribute supplies to

her New York soldiers and others, but these being now well organized,

did not, owing to the plenty of attendants greatly need her services,

and they were mostly confined to visits to soldiers in the field, at the

Front, Field Hospitals, and in the Rifle Pits.[I]

[Footnote I: Every facility was furnished her by the various officers in

command, and a special and permanent pass by General Grant.]

Her equestrian skill now often came in use. Often a ride of from twenty

to forty miles in the day would enable her to visit some outlying

regiment or picket station, or even to reach the Rifle Pits that

honeycombed plain and hill-side all about Petersburg and Richmond, and

return the same day. On these occasions she was warmly and

enthusiastically welcomed by the soldiers, not only for what she

brought, but for the comfort and solace of her presence.

She was often in positions of great peril from whizzing shot and

bursting shell, but was never harmed during these dangerous visits. On

one occasion, she was probably by reason of her black hat and feather,

mistaken for an officer, as she for a moment carelessly showed the upper

part of her person, from a slight eminence near the rifle pits, and was

fired at by one of the enemy's sharp-shooters. The ball lodged in a

tree, close by her side, from which she deliberately dug it out with her

penknife, retaining it as a memento of her escape.

Few of us whose days have been passed in the serene quietude of home,

can imagine the comfort and joy her presence and cheering words brought

to the "boys" undergoing the privations and discomforts of their station

at the "Front," in those days of peril and siege. As she approached, her

name would be heard passing from man to man, with electric swiftness,

and often the shouts that accompanied it, would receive from the enemy

a warlike response in the strange music of the whistling shot, or the

bursting shell.

Through all this she seemed to bear a charmed life. "I never believed I

should be harmed by shot or shell," she says, and her simple faith was

justified.

She even escaped nearly unharmed the fearful peril of the great

explosion at City Point, when, as it is now supposed, by rebel

treachery, the ammunition barge was fired, and hundreds of human beings

without an instant's warning, were hurried into eternity.

When this event occurred, she was on horseback near the landing, and in

turning to flee was struck, probably by a piece of shell, in the side.

Almost as by a miracle she escaped with only a terrible and extensive

bruise, and a temporary paralysis of the lower limbs. The elastic steel

wires of her crinoline, had resisted the deadly force of the blow, which

otherwise would undoubtedly have killed her. A smaller missile, nearly

cut away the string of her hat, which was found next day covered by the

ghastly smear of human blood and flesh, which also sprinkled all her

garments.

After the surrender of Richmond, Mrs. Spencer, with a party of friends,

visited that city, and she records that she experienced a very human

sense of satisfaction, as she saw some rebel prisoners marching into

that terrible Libby Prison, to take the place of the Union prisoners who

had there endured such fearful and nameless sufferings.

On the 8th of April the President came to visit the hospitals at City

Point, shaking hands with the convalescents, who were drawn up to

receive him, and speaking cheering words to all. A week later he had

fallen the victim of that atrocious plot which led to his assassination.

Mrs. Spencer remained at City Point, engaged in her duties, till all the

wounded had been removed, and the hospitals broken up. On the 31st of

May, she went on the medical supply boat to Washington. She there

offered her services to aid in any way in care of the wounded, while she

remained, which she did for several days. About the middle of June she

once more found herself an inmate of her own home, and, after the long

season of busy and perilous days, gladly retired to the freedom and

quiet of private life. She remained in the service about three years,

and the entire time, with only the briefest intervals of rest, was well

and profitably occupied in her duties, a strong will and an excellent

constitution having enabled her to endure fatigues which would soon have

broken down a person less fitted, in these respects, for the work.

Mrs. Spencer has received from soldiers, (who are all her grateful

friends) from loyal people in various parts of the country, and from

personal friends and neighbors, many tokens of appreciation, which she

enumerates with just pride and gratitude. Not the least of these is her

house and its furniture, a horse, a sewing machine, silver ware, and

expensive books; beside smaller articles whose chief value arises from

the feeling that caused the gifts. Her health has suffered in

consequence of her labors but she now hopes for permanent recovery.

MRS. HARRIET FOOTE HAWLEY.

Among the many heroic women who gave their services to their country in

our recent warfare, few deserve more grateful mention than Mrs. Harriet

Foote Hawley, wife of Brevet Major-General Hawley, the present Governor

of Connecticut.

Mrs. Hawley is of a fragile and delicate constitution, and one always

regarded by her friends as peculiarly unfitted to have part in labors or

hardships of any kind. But from the beginning to the end of the war, she

was an exemplification of how much may be done by one "strong of

spirit," even with the most delicate physical frame.

She went alone to Beaufort, South Carolina, in November, 1862, to engage

in teaching the colored people. While there she regularly visited the

army hospitals, and interested herself in the practical details of

nursing, to which she afterwards more particularly devoted herself, and

that spring and summer did the same at Fernandina and St. Augustine.

In November, 1863, she rejoined her husband on St. Helena Island, to

which he had returned with his regiment from the siege of Charleston.

She visited the Beaufort and Hilton Head General Hospitals, as well as

the post hospital at St. Helena frequently during the winter, especially

after the severe battle of Olustee, in February, 1864. When the Tenth

Corps went to Fortress Monroe, to join General Butler's army, Mrs.

Hawley went with them, and failing to find work in the Chesapeake

Hospital, went to Washington and was assigned the charge of a ward in

the Armory Square Hospital, on the very morning when the wounded began

to arrive from the battles of the Wilderness.

Her ward was one of the two in the armory itself, which for a

considerable time contained more patients than any other in that

hospital. "Armory Square" being near the Potomac, usually received the

most desperate cases, which could with difficulty be moved far. There

could be no operating room connected with this ward, and the operations,

however painful or dreadful, were of necessity performed in the ward

itself. The scenes presented were enough to appal the stoutest nerves.

The men exhausted by marching and by a long journey after their wounds,

died with great rapidity--in one day forty-eight were carried out

dead--many reaching the hospital only in time to die.

Among scenes like these Mrs. Hawley took up her abode, and labored with

an untiring zeal over four months in the hottest of the summer

weather--never herself strong--often suffering to a degree that would

have confined others to the bed of an invalid. She was ever at her post,

a guiding, directing, and comforting presence, until worn-out nature

required a temporary rest. After two months of repose she again returned

to the same ward, and continued her labors from November to the last of

March, 1865.

About the first of March, directly after its capture, her husband had

been assigned to the command of Wilmington, North Carolina.

She arrived at Wilmington, directly after nine thousand Union prisoners

had been delivered there, of whom more than three thousand needed

hospital treatment.

The army was entirely unprovided with any means of meeting this

exigency. The horrible condition of the prisoners, and the crowds of

half-fed whites and blacks collected in the town, bred a pestilence.

Typhus or jail fever appeared in its most dreadful form, and the deaths

were terribly frequent. The medical officers tried all their energies to

get supplies.

The garrison, the loyal citizens, and all good people gave their spare

clothing, and all delicacies of food within reach, to alleviate the

suffering. At one time nearly four thousand sick soldiers, together with

some wounded from the main army, were scattered through the dwellings

and churches of the town, and a considerable time elapsed before one

clean garment could be found for each sufferer. The principal surgeon,

Dr. Buzzell, of New Hampshire, died of over exertion and typhoid fever.

Of five northern ladies, professional nurses, three were taken sick and

two died. Chaplain Eaton died of the fever, and other chaplains were

severely sick. To the detailed soldiers the fever and climate proved a

greater danger than a battle-field. Through all these scenes of trial

and danger Mrs. Hawley exerted herself to the utmost, in the hospitals,

and among the poor of the town, avoiding no danger of contagion, not

even that of small-pox.

Gradually supplies arrived, better hospitals were provided, the town was

cleansed, and by the latter part of June--though the city was still

unhealthy--but few cases remained in the hospitals.

Mrs. Hawley accompanied her husband to Richmond about the 1st of July,

where he had been appointed chief of staff to General Terry. In October,

while returning from the battle-ground of Five Forks, where she had been

with an uncle to find the grave of his son (Captain Parmerlee, First

Connecticut Cavalry) she received an injury on the head by the upsetting

of the ambulance, through which unfortunately she remains still an

invalid.

Her name and memory must be dear to hundreds whose sufferings she has

shared and relieved, and she will be followed in her retirement by the

prayers of grateful hearts.

Although it does not perhaps belong to the purpose of this book, it

seems not inappropriate to make mention of the labors of Mrs. Hawley in

the education of the freedmen and their families. Both she and her

sister, Miss Kate Foote, labored in this sphere long and assiduously.

Governor Hawley was one of the speakers at the Boston anniversaries, in

May, 1866. Colonel Higginson, in alluding to his personal services, said

he would tell of his better half. When Colonel Hawley went as commander

of the Seventh Connecticut to Port Royal, to do his share of conquering

and to conquer, he took with him a thousand bayonets on one side, and a

Connecticut woman with her school-books on the other (applause). Where

he planted the standard of the Union, she planted its institutions; and

where he waved the sword, she waved the primer.

ELLEN E. MITCHELL.

This lady, better known among those to whom she ministered as "Nellie

Mitchell," was at the opening of the late war a resident of Montrose,

Pennsylvania, where, surrounded by friends, the inmate of a pleasant

home, amiable, highly educated and accomplished, her early youth had

been spent. Her family was one of that standing often named as "our

first families," and her position one every way desirable.

Perhaps her own words extracted from a letter to the writer of this

sketch will give the best statement of her views and motives.

"I only did my duty, did what I could, and did it because it would have

been a great act of self-denial not to have done it.

"I have ever felt that those who cheerfully gave their loved ones to

their country's cause, made greater sacrifices, manifested more heroism,

were worthy of more honor by far, than those of us who labored in the

hospitals or on the fields. I had not these 'dear ones' to give, so gave

heartily what I could, myself to the cause, with sincere gratitude, I

trust, to God, for the privilege of thus doing."

Miss Mitchell left her home in Montrose early in May, 1861, and

proceeded to New York city, where she went through a course of

instruction in surgical nursing at Bellevue Hospital, preparatory to

assuming the duties of an army nurse. The unwonted labors, the terrible

sights, and close attendance so impaired her health that after six weeks

she concluded to go to Woodbury, Connecticut, where she remained with

friends while awaiting orders, and in consequence did not join the army

as soon as she otherwise would. Being absent from New York, one or two

opportunities were lost, and it was not until September that her labors

in the military hospitals commenced.

She had intended to give her services to her country, but after

witnessing the frequent destitution of comforts among those to whom she

ministered, she decided to receive the regular pay of a nurse from the

Government, and appropriated it entirely to the benefit of the suffering

ones around her.

Luxuries sent by her friends for her own use she applied in the same

manner. The four years of her service were filled with self-sacrifice

and faithful devoted labor.

Miss Mitchell spent the first three months in Elmore Hotel Hospital,

Georgetown, District of Columbia. Around this place cluster some of the

pleasantest, as well as the saddest memories of her life. The want of a

well-arranged, systematic plan of action in this hospital, made the

tasks of the nurses peculiarly arduous and trying. Yet Miss Mitchell

records that she never found more delight in her labors, and never

received warmer expressions of gratitude from her "boys." On being

brought for the first time to a place associated in their minds only

with gloom and suffering the joyful surprise of these poor fellows at

finding kind hearts and willing hands ready to minister to their wants

with almost motherly, or sisterly affection, exceeded words and called

forth such manifestations of gratitude as amply rewarded those who thus

watched over them for all their toils. Often as they saw these kindly

women engaged in their busy tasks of mercy, their eyes would glisten as

they followed them with the most intense earnestness, and their lips

would unconsciously utter remarks like these, so homely and spontaneous

as to leave no doubt of their sincerity. "How good! how home-like to

see women moving around! We did not expect anything like this!"

But much as she loved her work and had become attached to her charges,

circumstances of a very painful nature soon compelled Miss Mitchell to

resign her post in this hospital. Very unworthy hands sometimes assume a

ministry of kindness. There were associations here so utterly repugnant

to Miss Mitchell, that with a sorrowful heart she at last forced herself

to turn her back upon the suffering, in order to be free from them.

But Providence soon opened the way to another engagement. In less than

two weeks she entered St. Elizabeth's Hospital. This was situated in

Washington across the Eastern branch of the Potomac in an unfinished

wing of the Insane Retreat.

Her initiation here was a sad, lonely night-watch, by the bed-side of a

dying nurse, who about ten o'clock the following day, with none but

strangers to witness her dying conflicts, passed from this scene of pain

and struggle.

It was about the last of December that she entered here, and in February

she was compelled to relinquish the care of her ward by a severe and

dangerous illness which lasted seven weeks. Her greatest joy in

returning health consisted in her restoration to the duties in which she

had learned to delight.

During this illness Miss Mitchell was constantly attended and nursed by

Miss Jessie Home, a young woman of Scottish birth, of whom mention is

made in another place, a most excellent and self-sacrificing woman who

afterwards lost her life in the cause of her adopted country.

This kindly care and the assiduous and skilful attentions of Dr.

Stevens, who was the surgeon of the hospital were, as she gratefully

believes, the means of preserving her life.

Miss Mitchell had scarcely recovered from this illness when she was

unexpectedly summoned home to stand by the death-bed of a beloved

mother. After a month's absence, sadly occupied in this watch of

affection, she again returned to Washington, whence she was sent

directly to Point Lookout, in Maryland, at the entrance of the Potomac

into Chesapeake Bay, where a hospital had recently been established.

She remained about two months at Point Lookout, and was surrounded there

with great suffering in all its phases, besides meeting with peculiar

trials, which rendered her stay at this hospital the most unsatisfactory

part of her "soldier life."

Her next station was at the Ware House Hospital, Georgetown, District of

Columbia, where she was employed in the care of the wounded from the

second battle of Bull Run. Most of these poor men were suffering from

broken limbs, had lain several days uncared for upon the field, and were

consequently greatly reduced in strength. They had besides suffered so

much from their removal in the jolting ambulances, that many of them

expressed a wish that they had been left to die on the field, rather

than to have endured such torment. Miss Mitchell found here a sphere

decidedly fitted to her peculiar powers, for she was always best pleased

to labor in the surgical wards, and would dress and care for wounds with

almost the skill, and more than the tenderness of a practiced surgeon.

After some time this hospital being very open, became untenantable, and

in February was closed, and Miss Mitchell was transferred to Union Hotel

Hospital, where five of the nurses being at that time laid up by

illness, her duties became unusually arduous.

Since her former labors here the hospital had been closed, refitted, and

reopened under every way improved auspices. The "boys" found themselves

in every respect so kindly cared for, and so surrounded by home-like

experience that it was with great regret they saw the hospital broken

up, in March.

Miss Mitchell's inclination would then, as often before, have led her to

the front, but she was forced to obey orders, "soldier-like," and found

herself transferred to Knight Hospital, New Haven, as the next scene of

her labors. Here she remained three months actively and usefully

employed, but at the end of that time she had become so worn out with

her long continued and arduous services, as to feel compelled to resign

her position as army nurse. She soon after accepted a desirable

situation in the Treasury Department, upon the duties of which she

entered in July, 1863.

Miss Mitchell has never quite reconciled her conscience to this act,

which she fears was too much tinged with selfishness and induced by

interested motives. Feeling thus, she again enlisted as army nurse after

a few months, resolving never again to abandon the service, while the

war continued and strength was given her to labor.

This was in the beginning of May, 1864, and she was immediately sent to

Fredericksburg to assist in caring for the wounded from the battle of

the Wilderness. The scenes and labors of that terrible period are beyond

description. Miss Mitchell was amidst them all, and like an angel of

mercy made herself everywhere useful to the crowds of ghastly sufferers

from those fields of awful carnage, which marked the onward march of

Grant to victory, and the suppression of the rebellion.

When our army left Fredericksburg, most of the wounded were transferred

to Washington, Miss Mitchell would again have preferred to go to the

front, but obeyed orders, and went instead to Judiciary Square Hospital,

Washington, where she found many of her former patients. After she had

spent one day there, she would not willingly have left those poor men

whom she found so greatly needing a woman's care. For weeks the

mortality was fearful, and she found herself surrounded by the dead and

dying, but gradually this was lessened, and she became engaged in the

more delightful duty of superintending the improvement of convalescents,

and watching the return to health of many a brave hero who had perhaps

sacrificed limbs, and well-nigh life, in the service of his country.

Here she remained, with ever-increasing satisfaction in her labors,

until the final closing of the Hospital in June, 1865.

Here also ended her army services, with the occasion for them. She had

rendered them joyfully, and she resigned them with regret and sadness at

parting with those who had so long been her charge, and whom she would

probably see no more forever. But in all joy or sadness, in all her

life, she will not cease to remember with delight and gratitude how she

was enabled to minister to the suffering, and thus perform a woman's

part in the great struggle which redeemed our country from slavery, and

made us truly a free people.

Few have done better service, for few have been so peculiarly adapted to

their work. In all she gratefully acknowledges the aid and sustaining

sympathy of her friends in New Milford, Pa., and elsewhere, to which she

was so greatly indebted for the ability to minister with comforts to the

sufferers under her charge.

As these lines are written some letters from a soldier who was long

under her kind care in Washington, lie upon the writer's table with

their appreciative mention of this excellent woman; which coming from

one who knew and experienced her goodness, may well be regarded as the

highest testimony of it. Here is one brief extract therefrom.

"As for Miss Mitchell herself--she has a cheerful courage, faith and

patience which take hold of the duties of this place with a will that

grasps the few amenities and pleasures found here, and works them all up

into sunshine; and looks over and beyond the fatiguing work, and

unavoidable brutalities of the present. Do we not call this happiness?

Happiness is not to be pitied--nor is she!"

In another place he speaks of her unswerving, calm devotion--her entire

self-abnegation, as beyond all he has seen of the like traits elsewhere.

And still there were many devoted women--perhaps many Ellen Mitchells!

Again he compares the hospital work of Miss Mitchell and her

fellow-laborers with that of the sisters of charity, in whose care he

had previously been--the one human, alert, sympathizing--not loving sin,

nor sinful men, but laboring for them, sacrificing for them, pardoning

them as Christ does--the other working with machine-like accuracy, but

with as little apparent emotion, showing none in fact beyond a prudish

shrinking from these sufferers from the outer world, of which they know

nothing but have only heard of its wickedness. The contrast is powerful,

and shows Miss Mitchell and her friends in fairest colors.

MISS JESSIE HOME.

Jessie Home was a native of Scotland. No ties bound her to this, her

adopted land. No relative of hers, resided upon its soil. She was

alone--far from kindred and the friends of her early youth. But the

country of her adoption had become dear to her. She loved it with the

ardor and earnestness which were a part of her nature, and she was

willing, nay anxious, to devote herself to its service.

At the commencement of the war Miss Home was engaged in a pleasant and

lucrative pursuit, which she abandoned that she might devote herself to

the arduous and ill-paid duties of a hospital nurse.

She entered the service early in the war, and became one of the corps of

Government nurses attached to the hospitals in the vicinity of

Washington. Like others, regularly enlisted, and under orders from Miss

Dix, the Government Superintendent of nurses, she was transferred from

point to point and from hospital to hospital, as the exigencies of the

service required. But she had only to be known to be appreciated, and

her companions, her patients, and the surgeons under whom she worked,

were equally attached to her, and loud in her praises. She entered into

her work with her whole soul--untiring, faithful, of a buoyant

temperament, she possessed a peculiar power of winning the love and

confidence of all with whom she came in contact.

She was quite dependent upon her own resources, and in giving herself to

the cause yielded up a profitable employment and with it her means of

livelihood. Yet she denied herself all luxuries, everything but the

merest necessities, that out of the pittance of pay received from the

Government, out of the forty cents per day with which her labors were

_rewarded_, she might save something for the wants of the suffering ones

under her care.

And be it remembered always, that in this work it was not alone the

well-born and the wealthy who made sacrifices, and gave grand gifts. Not

from the sacrifice of gauds and frippery did the humble charities of

these hired nurses come, but from the yielding up of a thousand needed

comforts for themselves, and the forgetfulness of their own wants, in

supplying the mightier wants of the suffering. It is impossible to

mention them with words of praise beyond their merit.

For about two years Miss Home labored thus untiringly and faithfully,

always alert, cheerful, active. During this time she had drawn to

herself hosts of attached friends.

At the end of that period she fell a martyr to her exertions in the

cause to which she had so nobly devoted herself.

When attacked with illness, she must have felt all the horrors of

desolation--for she was without means or home. But Providence did not

desert her in this last dread hour of trial. Miss Rebecca Bergen of

Brooklyn, N. Y., who had learned her worth by a few months' hospital

association, deemed it a privilege to receive the sufferer at her own

home, and to watch over the last hours of this noble life as it drew to

a close, ministering to her sufferings with all the kindness and

affection of a sister, and smoothing her passage to the grave.

Thus, those, who without thought for themselves, devote their lives and

energies to the welfare of others, are often unexpectedly cared for in

the hour of their own extremity, and find friends springing up to

protect them, and to supply their wants in the day of their need. Far

from kindred and her native land, this devoted woman thus found friends

and kindly care, and the stranger hands that laid her in an alien grave

were warm with the emotion of loving hearts.

M. VANCE AND M. A. BLACKMAR.

Miss Mary Vance is a Pennsylvanian. Before the War, she was teaching

among the Indians of Kansas or Nebraska, but it becoming unsafe there,

she was forced to leave. She came to Miss Dix, who sent her to a

Baltimore Hospital, in which she rendered efficient service, as she

afterward did in Washington and Alexandria. In September, 1863, she went

to the General Hospital, Gettysburg, where she was placed in charge of

six wards, and no more indefatigable, faithful and judicious nurse was

to be found on those grounds. She labored on continuously, going from

point to point, as our army progressed towards Richmond, at

Fredericksburg, suffering much from want of strengthening and proper

food, but never murmuring, doing a vast amount of work, in such a quiet

and unpretending manner, as to attract the attention from the

lookers-on. Few, but the recipients of her kindness, knew her worth. At

City Point, she was stationed in the Second Corps Hospital, where she,

as usual, won the respect and esteem of the Surgeons and all connected

with her.

Miss Vance labored the whole term of the War, with but three weeks'

furlough, in all that time. A record, that no other woman can give, and

but few soldiers.

Miss Blackmar, one of Michigan's worthy daughters, was one of the

youngest of the band of Hospital nurses. She, for ten months, labored

unceasingly at City Point. More than usually skilful in wound dressing,

she rendered efficient service to her Surgeons, as well as in saving

many poor boys much suffering from the rough handling of inexperienced

soldier-nurses. A lad was brought to her Wards, with a wound in the

temple, which, in the course of time, ate into the artery. This she had

feared, and was always especially careful in watching and attending to

him. But, in her absence, a hemorrhage took place, the nurse endeavored

to staunch the blood, but at last, becoming frightened, sent for a

Surgeon. When she came back to the Ward, there lay her boy pale and

exhausted, life almost gone. But she persevered in her efforts, and at

last had the satisfaction of witnessing his recovery.

At City Point, Miss Vance and Miss Blackmar were tent-mates, and

intimate friends--both noted for their untiring devotion to their work,

their prudent and Christian deportment. As an instance of the wearying

effects of the labors of a Hospital nurse, Mrs. Husband, who was the

firm friend, and at City Point, the associate of these two young ladies,

relates the following; these two ladies, wearied as usual, retired one

very cold night, Miss Blackmar taking a hot brick with her, for her

feet. They slept the sound sleep of exhaustion for some time, when Miss

Vance struggled into consciousness, with a sensation of smothering, and

found that the tent was filled with smoke. After repeatedly calling her

companion, she was forced to rise and shake her, telling her that she

must be on fire. This at last aroused Miss Blackmar, who found that the

brick had burned through the cloth in which it was wrapped, the

straw-bed and two army blankets. By the application of water, the fire

was quenched, and after airing the tent, they were soon sleeping as

soundly as ever. But, in the morning, Miss Blackmar, to her

consternation, found that her feet and ankles were badly burned, covered

with blisters and very painful, though her sleep had been too sound to

feel it before.

[Illustration: MISS HATTIE A. DADA.

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

H. A. DADA AND S. E. HALL.

Miss Hattie A. Dada and Miss Susan E. Hall, were among the most earnest

and persistent workers in a field which presented so many opportunities

for labor and sacrifice. Both offered themselves to the Women's Central

Association of Relief, New York, immediately on the formation of that

useful organization for any service, or in any capacity, where their aid

could be made available. Both had formerly been employed by one of the

Missionary Societies, in mission labors among the Indians of the

Southwest, and were eminently fitted for any sphere of usefulness which

the existing condition of our country could present to woman.

They were received by the Association, and requested to join the class

of women who, with similar motives and intentions, were attending the

series of lectures and surgical instructions which was to prepare them

for the duties of nurses in the army hospitals.

On Sunday, July 21st, 1861, a memorable day, the first battle of Bull

Run took place. On the following day, the 22d, the disastrous tidings of

defeat and rout was received in New York, and the country was thrilled

with pain and horror.

At noon, on Monday, the 22d, Miss Dada and Miss Hall received

instructions to prepare for their journey to the scene of their future

labors, and at six P.M. they took the train for Washington, with orders

to report to Miss Dix. Tuesday morning found them amidst all the

terrible excitement which reigned in that city. The only question Miss

Dix asked, was, "Are you ready to work?" and added, "You are needed in

Alexandria."

And toward Alexandria they were shortly proceeding. There were

apprehensions that the enemy might pursue our retreating troops, of whom

they met many as they crossed the Long Bridge, and passed the

fortifications all filled with soldiers watching for the coming foe who

might then so easily have invaded the Federal City.

In some cabins by the road-side they first saw some wounded men, to whom

they paused to administer words of cheer, and a "cup of cold water."

They were in great apprehension that the road might not be safe, and a

trip to Richmond, in the capacity of prisoners was by no means to be

desired.

At last they reached Alexandria, and in a dark stone building on

Washington Street, formerly a seminary, found their hospital. They were

denied admittance by the sentinel, but the surgeon in charge was called,

and welcomed them to their new duties.

There they lay, the wounded, some on beds, many on mattresses spread

upon the floor, covered with the blood from their wounds, and the dust

of that burning summer battle-field, many of them still in their

uniforms. The retreat was so unexpected, the wounded so numerous, and

the helpers so few, that all were at once extremely busy in bringing

order and comfort to that scene of suffering.

Their labors here were exceedingly arduous. No soldiers were detailed as

attendants for the first few weeks, and even the most menial duties fell

upon these ladies. Sometimes a contraband was assigned them as

assistant, but he soon tired of steady employment and left. They had

little sleep and food that was neither tempting nor sufficient. So busy

were they that two weeks elapsed before Miss Dada, whose letters furnish

most of the material for this sketch, found time to write home, and

inform her anxious friends "where she was."

A busy month passed thus, and then the numbers in the hospital began to

decrease, many of the convalescent being sent North, or having

furloughs, till only the worst cases remained.

As the winter approached typhus fever began to prevail among the troops,

and many distressing cases, some of which despite all their efforts

proved mortal, came under the care of these ladies.

About the beginning of April, 1862, soon after the battle of Winchester,

and the defeat of Stonewall Jackson by General Shields, Miss Dada and

Miss Hall were ordered thither to care for the wounded. Here they were

transferred from one hospital to another, without time to become more

than vaguely interested in the individual welfare of their patients. At

length at the third, the Court-House Hospital, they were permitted to

remain for several weeks. Here many interesting cases were found, and

they became much attached to some of the sufferers under their care, and

found great pleasure in their duties.

On the 22d of May they were ordered to Strasburg, and proceeded thither

to the care of several hundred sick, entirely unsuspicious of personal

danger, not dreaming that it could be met with beside the headquarters

of General Banks. But on the following day troops were observed leaving

the town on the Front Royal road, and the same night the memorable

retreat was ordered.

It was indeed a sad sight which met their eyes in the gray of early

dawn. Ambulances and army wagons filled the streets. Soldiers from the

hospitals, scarcely able to walk, crawled slowly and painfully along,

while the sick were crowded into the overfilled ambulances.

Pressing forward they arrived at Winchester at noon, but the ambulances

did not arrive till many hours later, with their dismal freight. The

fright and suffering had overpowered many, and many died as they were

carried into the hospitals. A little later the wounded began to come in,

and the faithful, hard-worked surgeons and nurses had their hands full.

The retreating Union forces came pouring through the town, the rebels in

close pursuit. The shouts of the combatants, and the continued firing,

created great confusion. Fear was in every heart, pallor on every cheek,

anxiety in every eye, for they knew not what would be their fate, but

had heard that the wounded had been bayonetted at Front Royal the

previous day. Many dying men, in their fright and delirium, leaped from

their beds, and when laid down soon ceased to breathe.

Soon the rebels had possession of the town, and the ladies found

themselves prisoners with a rebel guard placed about their hospital.

Their supplies were now quite reduced, and it was not until personal

application had been made by the nurses to the rebel authorities, that

suitable food was furnished.

When the army left Winchester, enough men were ordered to remain to

guard the hospitals, and an order was read to all the inmates, that any

of them seen in the streets would be shot.

Miss Dada and her friend remained at this place until the months of June

and July were passed. In August they were assigned to Armory Square

Hospital, Washington.

Previous to the second battle of Bull Run, all the convalescent men were

sent further North, and empty beds were in readiness for the wounded,

who on the evening after the battle were brought in, in great numbers,

covered with the dust and gore of the field of conflict. Here the

ministering care of these ladies was most needed. They hastened with

basins and sponges, cold water and clean clothes, and soon the sufferers

felt the benefits of cleanliness, and were laid, as comfortably as their

wounds would admit, in those long rows of white beds that awaited them.

All were cheerful, and few regretted the sacrifices they had made. But

in a few days many of these heroes succumbed before the mighty

Conqueror. Their earthly homes they were never to see, but, one by one,

they passed silently to their last home of silence and peace, where the

war of battle and the pain of wounds never disturb. One poor fellow, a

Michigan soldier, wounded in the throat, could take no nourishment, nor

scarcely breathe. His sufferings were intense, and his restlessness kept

him constantly in motion as long as the strength for a movement

remained. But at last, he silently turned his face to the wall, and so

died. Another, a victim of lockjaw, only yielded to the influence of

chloroform. Another, whom the surgeons could only reach the second day,

had his arm amputated, but too late. Even while he believed himself on

the road to recovery, bad symptoms had intervened; and while with

grateful voice he was planning how he would assist Miss Dada as soon as

he was well enough, in the care of other patients, the hand of death was

laid upon him, and he soon passed away.

Such are a few of the heart-rending scenes and incidents through which

these devoted ladies passed.

The month of November found Miss Dada at Harper's Ferry. Miss Hall had

been at Antietam, but the friends had decided to be no longer separated.

They found that the Medical Director of the Twelfth Army Corps was just

opening a hospital there, and the next day the sick and wounded from the

regimental hospitals were brought in. They had suffered for lack of

care, but though the new hospital was very scantily furnished, they

found that cause of trouble removed. Many of them had long been ill, and

want of cleanliness and vermin had helped to reduce them to extreme

emaciation. Their filthy clothes were replaced by clean ones, and burned

or thrown into the river, their heads shaven, and their revolting

appearance removed. But many a youth whom sickness and suffering had

given the appearance of old age, succumbed to disease and suffering, and

joined the long procession to the tomb.

These were sad days, the men were dying rapidly. One day a middle-aged

woman came in inquiring for her son. Miss Dada took from her pocket a

slip of paper containing the name of one who had died a day or two

previously--it was the name of the son of this mother. She sought the

surgeon, and together they undertook the painful task of conveying to

the mother the tidings that her visit was in vain. Poor mother! How

many, like her, returned desolate to broken homes, from such a quest!

May and June, 1863, Miss Dada and Miss Hall spent at Acquia Creek, in

care of the wounded from the battle of Chancellorsville, and the 8th of

July found them at Gettysburg--Miss Dada at the hospital of the Twelfth

Army Corps, at a little distance from the town, and Miss Hall at that of

the First Army Corps, which was within the town. The hospital of the

Twelfth Army Corps was at a farm-house. The house and barns were filled

with wounded, and tents were all around, crowded with sufferers, among

whom were many wounded rebel prisoners, who were almost overwhelmed with

astonishment and gratitude to find that northern ladies would extend to

them the same care as to the soldiers of their own army.

The story of Gettysburg, and the tragical days that followed, has been

too often told to need repetition. The history of the devotion of

Northern women to their country's defenders, and of their sacrifices and

labors was illustrated in brightest characters there. Miss Hall and Miss

Dada remained there as long as their services could be made available.

In December, 1863, they were ordered to Murfreesboro', Tennessee, once a

flourishing town, but showing everywhere the devastations of war. Two

Seminaries, and a College, large blocks of stores, and a hotel, had been

taken for hospitals, and were now filled with sick and wounded men. A

year had passed since the awful battle of Stone River,--the field of

which, now a wide waste lay near the town--but the hospitals had never

been empty.

When they arrived, they reported to the medical director, who "did not

care whether they stayed or not," but, "if they remained wished them to

attend exclusively to the preparation of the Special Diet." They

received only discouraging words from all they met. They found shelter

for the night at the house of a rebel woman, and were next day

assigned--Miss Hall to No. 1 Hospital, Miss Dada to No. 3.

When they reported, the surgeon of No. 1 Hospital, for their

encouragement, informed them that the chaplain thought they had better

not remain. Miss Dada also was coldly received, and it was evident that

the Surgeons and chaplains were very comfortable, and desired no outside

interference. They believed, however, that there was a work for them to

do, and decided to remain.

Miss Dada found in the wards more than one familiar face from the

Twelfth Army Corps, and the glad enthusiasm of her welcome by the

patients, contrasted with the chilling reception of the officers.

Most of these men had been wounded at Lookout Mountain, a few days

before, but many others had been suffering ever since the bloody battle

of Chickamauga.

Miss Hall was able to commence her work at once, but Miss Dada was often

exhorted to patience, while waiting three long weeks for a stove, before

she could do more than, by the favor of the head cook of the full diet

kitchen, occasionally prepare at his stove, some small dishes for the

worst cases.

Here the winter wore away. Many a sad tale of the desolations of war was

poured into their ears, by the suffering Union women who had lost their

husbands, fathers, sons, in the wild warfare of the country in which

they lived. And many a scene of sorrow and suffering they witnessed.

In January, they had a pleasant call from Dr. M----, one of the friends

they had known at Gettysburg. This gentleman, in conversation with the

medical director, told him he knew two of the ladies there. The reply

illustrates the peculiar position in which they were placed. "Ladies!"

he answered with a sneer, "We have no ladies here! A hospital is no

place for a lady. We have some women here, who are cooks!"

But they remembered that one has said--"The lowest post of service is

the highest place of honor," and that Christ had humiliated himself to

wash the feet of his disciples.

In the latter part of the ensuing May, they went to Chattanooga. They

were most kindly received by the surgeons, and found much to be done.

Car-loads of wounded were daily coming from the front, all who could

bear removal were sent further north, and only the worst cases retained

at Chattanooga. They were all in good spirits, however, and rejoicing at

Sherman's successful advance--even those upon whom death had set his

dark seal.

Miss Dada often rejoiced, while here, in the kindness of her friends at

home, which enabled her to procure for the sick those small, but at that

place, costly luxuries which their condition demanded.

As the season advanced to glowing summer, the mortality became dreadful.

In her hospital alone, not a large one, and containing but seven hundred

beds, there were two hundred and sixty-one deaths in the month of June,

and there were from five to twenty daily. These were costly sacrifices,

often of the best, noblest, most promising,--for Miss Dada

records--"Daily I see devoted Christian youths dying on the altar of our

country."

With the beginning of November came busy times, as the cars daily came

laden with their freight of suffering from Atlanta. On the 26th, Miss

Dada records, "One year to-day since Hooker's men fought above the

clouds on Lookout. To-day as I look upon the grand old mountain the sun

shines brightly on the graves of those who fell there, and all is

quiet."

Again, after the gloomy winter had passed, she writes, in March, 1865,

"Many cases of measles are being brought in, mostly new soldiers, many

conscripts, and so down-spirited if they get sick. It was a strange

expression a poor fellow made the other day, 'You are the

_God-blessedest_ woman I ever saw.' He only lived a few days after being

brought to the hospital."

Their work of mercy was now well-nigh over, as the necessity for it

seemed nearly ended. Patients were in May being mustered out of the

service, and the hospitals thinning. Miss Dada and Miss Hall thought

they could be spared, and started eastward. But when in Illinois, word

reached them that all the ladies but one had left, and help was needed,

and Miss Dada returned to Chattanooga. Here she was soon busy, for,

though the war was over, there were still many sick, and death often

claimed a victim.

Miss Dada remained till the middle of September, engaged in her duties,

when, having given more than four years to the service of her country,

she at last took her leave of hospital-life, and returned to home and

its peaceful pleasures.

Before leaving she visited the historical places of the vicinity--saw a

storm rise over Mission Ridge, and heard the thunders of heaven's

artillery where once a hundred guns belched forth their fires and swept

our brave boys to destruction. She climbed Lookout, amidst its vail of

clouds, and visited "Picket Rock," where is the spring at which our

troops obtained water the night after the battle, and the "Point" where,

in the early morn, the Stars and Stripes proclaimed to the watching

hosts below, that they were victors.

MRS. SARAH P. EDSON.

Mrs. Edson is a native of Fleming, Cayuga County, New York, where her

earlier youth was passed. At ten years of age she removed with her

parents to Ohio, but after a few years again returned to her native

place. Her father died while she was yet young, and her childhood and

youth were clouded by many sorrows.

Gifted with a warm imagination, and great sensitiveness of feeling, at

an early age she learned to express her thoughts in written words. Her

childhood was not a happy one, and she thus found relief for a thousand

woes. At length some of her writings found their way into print.

She spent several years as a teacher, and was married and removed to

Pontiac, Michigan, in 1845. During her married life she resided in

several States, but principally in Maysville, Kentucky.

Here she became well known as a writer, but her productions, both in

prose and poetry, were usually written under various _nommes de plume_,

and met very general acceptance.

She at various times edited journals devoted to temperance and general

literature in the Western States, and became known as possessing a

keenly observing and philosophic mind. This experience, perhaps,

prepared and eminently fitted her for the service into which she entered

at the breaking out of the war, and enabled her to comprehend and

provide for the necessities and emergencies of "the situation."

Mrs. Edson arrived in Washington November 1st, 1861, and commenced

service as nurse in Columbia College Hospital. She remained there

serving with great acceptance until early in March when the army was

about to move and a battle was in anticipation, when by arrangement with

the Division Surgeon, Dr. Palmer, she joined Sumner's Division at Camp

California, Virginia, where she was to remain and follow to render her

services in case the anticipation was verified. The enemy, however, had

stolen away, and "Quaker" guns being the only armament encountered, her

services were not needed.

She soon after received an appointment from Surgeon-General Finley to

proceed to Winchester, Virginia, to assist in the care of the wounded

from General Banks' army. She found the hospital there in a most

deplorable condition. Gangrene was in all the wards, the filth and

foulness of the atmosphere were fearful. Men were being swept off by

scores, and all things were in such a state as must ever result from

inexperience, and perhaps incompetence, on the part of those in charge.

Appliances and stores were scanty, and many of the surgeons and persons

in charge, though doing the least that was possible, were totally unfit

for their posts through want of experience and training.

The Union Hotel Hospital was placed in charge of Mrs. Edson, and the

nurses who accompanied her were assigned to duty there. It was to be

thoroughly cleansed and rendered as wholesome as possible.

The gratitude of the men for their changed condition, in a few days

amply attested the value of the services of herself and associates, and

demonstrated the fact that women have an important place in a war like

ours.

Mrs. Edson next proceeded to join the army before Yorktown, about the

1st of May, 1862, and was attached to the Hospital of General Sumner's

corps. She arrived the day following the battle of Williamsburg, and

learning that her son was among the wounded left in a hospital several

miles from Yorktown, she at once started on foot to find him. After a

walk of twelve miles she discovered him apparently in a dying state, he

and his comrades imperatively demanding care. Here she spent four

sleepless days and nights of terrible anxiety, literally flying from hut

to hut of the rebel-built hospitals, to care for other sick and wounded

men, whenever she could leave her son.

She remained thus till imperative orders were received to break up this

hospital and go to Yorktown. The men were laid in army wagons and

transported over the rough roads from nine in the morning till six in

the evening. Arriving exhausted by their terrible sufferings, they found

no provision made for their reception. That was a dreadful day, and to

an inexperienced eye and a sympathetic heart the suffering seemed

frightful!

The 21st of May, Mrs. Edson went to Fortress Monroe, to care for her son

and others, remaining a week. From thence she proceeded to White House

and the "front." Arriving here the enemy were expected, and it was

forbidden to land. At daylight the "only woman on board" was anxiously

inquiring if there was any suffering to relieve. Learning that some

wounded had just been brought in, she left the boat notwithstanding the

prohibition, and found over three hundred bleeding and starved heroes

lying upon the ground. The Sanitary Commission boats had gone, and no

supplies were left but coffee and a little rice. As she stepped ashore,

a soldier with a shattered arm came up to her, almost timidly, and with

white trembling lips asked her if she could give them something to

eat--they had lost everything three days before, and had been without

food since. What an appeal to the sympathy of a warm heart!

It was feared that no food could be obtained, but after great search a

barrel of cans of beef was found. Some camp kettles were gathered up,

and a fire kindled. In the shortest possible time beef soup and coffee

were passing round among these delighted men. Their gratitude was beyond

words. At four o'clock, that afternoon, the last man was put on board

the ship which was to convey them within reach of supplies and care.

Mrs. Edson was left alone. One steamer only of the quartermaster's

department remained. The quartermaster had no authority to admit her on

board. But in view of the momently expected arrival of the enemy he told

her to go on board and remain, promising not to interfere with her until

she reached Harrison's Landing. And this was all that could be gained by

her who was so busily working for the soldier--this the alternative of

being left to the tender mercy of the enemy.

She remained at Harrison's Landing until the 12th of August, and passed

through all the terrible and trying scenes that attended the arrival of

the defeated, demoralized, and depressed troops of McClellan's army.

These baffle description. Enough, that hands and heart were full--full

of work, and full of sympathy, with so much frightful suffering all

around her! She was here greatly aided and sustained by the presence and

help of that excellent man, Chaplain Arthur B. Fuller, who passed away

to his reward long ere the close of the struggle, into which he had

entered with so true an appreciation and devotion. Again, here as

everywhere, gratitude for kindness, and cheerfulness in suffering marked

the conduct of the poor men under her care.

When the army left she repaired again to Fortress Monroe, and was on

duty there at Hygeia Hospital during the transit of the army.

She returned to Alexandria the 30th of August, and almost immediately

heard rumors of the fighting going on at the front. She applied for

permission to proceed to the field, but was informed that the army was

retreating. The next tidings was of the second battle of Bull Run, and

the other disastrous conflicts of Pope's campaign. As she could not go

to the front to give aid and comfort to that small but heroic army in

its retreat she did what she could for the relief of any sufferers who

came under her notice, until the news of the conflict at Antietam was

received, with rumors of its dreadful slaughter. Her heart was fired

with anxiety to proceed thither, but permission was again denied her,

the surgeon-general replying that she was evidently worn out and must

rest for a time. He was right, for on the ensuing day she was seized

with a severe illness which prevented any further exertion for many

weeks.

During the slow hours of convalescence from this illness she revolved a

plan for systematizing the female branch of the relief service. Her idea

was to provide a home for volunteer nurses, where they could be

patiently educated and instructed in the necessities of the work they

were to assume, and where they could retire for rest when needed, or in

the brief intervals of their labors.

Her first labor on recovery was to proceed to Warrenton with supplies,

but she found the army moving and the sick already on board the cars.

She did what was possible for them under the circumstances. The trains

moved off and she was left to wait for one that was to convey her back

to Alexandria. This, however, was cut off by the rebels, and she found

herself with no resource but to proceed with the army to Acquia Creek.

She records that she reached Acquia, after several days, and a new and

interesting experience, which was kindness and courtesy from all with

whom she came in contact.

Immediately after her return to Washington, Mrs. Edson attempted to

systematize her plan for a home and training school for nurses. A

society was formed, and Mrs. Caleb B. Smith at first (but soon after in

consequence of her resignation) Mrs. B. F. Wade, was appointed

President, and Mrs. Edson, Secretary.

Many meetings were held. The attention of commanding and medical

officers was drawn to the plan. Almost unanimously they expressed

approval of it.

Mrs. Edson was the soul of the work, hers was the guiding brain, the

active hand, and as is usual in similar cases most of the labor fell

upon her. She visited the army at Fredericksburg, and carefully

examined the hospitals to ascertain their needs in this respect. This

with other journeys of the same kind occupied a considerable portion of

the winter.

State Relief Societies had been consulted and approved the plan. Mrs.

Edson visited the Sanitary Commission and laid the plan before them, but

while they admitted the necessity of a home and place of rest for

nurses, which they soon after established, they regarded a training

school for them unnecessary, believing that those who were adapted to

their work would best acquire the needed skill in it in the hospital

itself, and that their imperative need of attendants in the hospitals

and in the departments of special and field relief, did not admit of the

delay required to educate nurses for the service.

The surgeon-general, though at first favorably impressed with the idea,

on more mature consideration discouraged it, and withheld his approval

before the Senate Committee, who had a bill before them for the

establishment of such an institution. Thus thwarted in the prosecution

of the plan on which she had set her heart, Mrs. Edson did not give up

in despair, nor did she suffer her sympathy and zeal in its prosecution

to prevent her from engaging in what she rightly regarded as the

paramount work of every loyal woman who could enter upon it, the care of

the sick and wounded after the great battles. The fearfully disastrous

battle of Fredericksburg in December, 1862, called her to the front, and

she was for several weeks at Falmouth caring tenderly for the wounded

heroes there. This good work accomplished she returned to Washington,

and thence visited New York city, and made earnest endeavors to enlist

the aid of the wealthy and patriotic in this movement. She was familiar

with Masonic literature and with the spirit of Masonry. Her husband had

been an advanced member of the Order, and she had herself taken all the

"Adoptive Degrees." These reasons induced her to seek the aid of the

Order, and she was pleased to find that she met with much encouragement.

The "Army Nurses' Association" was formed in New York, and commenced

work under the auspices of the Masons. In the spring of 1864, when

Grant's campaign commenced with the terrible battles of the Wilderness,

Mrs. Edson hastened to the "front." Almost immediately the surgeons

requested her to send for ten of the nurses then receiving instruction

as part of her class at Clinton Hall, New York.

She did so. They were received, transportation found, and rations and

pay granted. And they were found to be valuable workers, Mrs. Edson

receiving from the Surgeons in charge, the highest testimonials of their

usefulness. She had at first mentioned it to the Surgeons as an

experiment, and said that funds and nurses would not be wanting if it

proved a success. The day on which the order for the evacuation of

Fredericksburg was issued, she was told that her "experiment was more

than a success--it was a triumph." And this by one of the highest

officials of the Medical department.

Eighty more nurses were at once ordered.

The interest taken by the Masons in this movement, led to the formation

of the "Masonic Mission," with a strong "Advisory Board," composed of

leading and wealthy Masons.

Mrs. Edson, with unquestioning confidence in the integrity of Masons,

and in the honor of the gentlemen who had given the movement the great

strength of their names, continued ardently carrying out her plan. More

nurses were sent out, and all received the promise of support by the

"Mission." Much good--how much none may say, was performed by these

women. They suffered and labored, and sacrificed much. They gave their

best efforts and cares. Many of them were poor women, unable to give

their time and labor without remuneration. But, alas! the purposes and

promises of the Masonic Mission, were never fulfilled. Many of the women

received no remuneration, and great suffering and dissatisfaction was

the result. The good to the suffering of the army was perhaps the same.

Amidst all her sorrows and disappointments, Mrs. Edson continued her

labors till the end of the war. Nothing could keep her from the

fulfilment of what she regarded as an imperative duty, and nobly she

achieved her purpose, so far as her individual efforts were concerned.

A lady, herself ardently engaged in the work of relief, and supply for

the soldiers, visited the Army of the Potomac in company with Mrs.

Edson, in the winter of 1865, not long before the close of the war. She

describes the reception of Mrs. Edson, among these brave men to whom she

had ministered during the terrific campaign of the preceding summer, as

a complete ovation. The enthusiasm was overwhelming to the quiet woman

who had come among them, not looking nor hoping for more than the

privilege of a pleasant greeting from those endeared to her by the very

self-sacrificing efforts by which she had brought them relief, and

perhaps been the means of saving their lives.

Irrepressible shouts, cheers, tears and thanks saluted her on every

side, and she passed on humbled rather than elated by the excess of this

enthusiastic gratitude.

MISS MARIA M. C. HALL.

Although the Federal City, Washington, was at the outbreak of the war

more intensely Southern in sentiment than many of the Southern cities,

at least so far as its native, or long resident inhabitants could make

it so, yet there were even in that Sardis, a few choice spirits, reared

under the shadow of the Capitol, whose patriotism was as lofty, earnest

and enduring as that of any of the citizens of any Northern or Western

state.

Among these, none have given better evidence of their intense love of

their country and its institutions, than Miss Hall. Born and reared in

the Capital, highly educated, and of pleasing manners and address, she

was well fitted to grace any circle, and to shine amid the gayeties of

that fashionable and frivolous city. But the religion of the

compassionate and merciful Jesus had made a deep lodgment in her heart,

and in imitation of his example, she was ready to forsake the halls of

gayety and fashion, if she might but minister to the sick, the suffering

and the sorrowing. Surrounded by Secessionists, her father too far

advanced in years to bear arms for the country he loved, with no brother

old enough to be enrolled among the nation's defenders, her patriotism

was as fervid as that of any soldier of the Republic, and she resolved

to consecrate herself to the service of the nation, by ministrations to

the sick and wounded. Her first opportunity of entering upon this duty

was by the reception into her father's house of one of the sick soldiers

before the first battle of Bull Run, who by her kindly care was

restored to health. When the Indiana Hospital was established in the

Patent Office building on the 1st of August, 1861, Miss Hall sought a

position there as nurse; but Miss Dix had already issued her circular

announcing that no nurses under thirty-five years of age would be

accepted; and in vain might she plead her willingness and ability to

undergo hardships and the uncomfortable duties pertaining to the nurse's

position. She therefore applied to the kind-hearted but eccentric Mrs.

Almira Fales, whose hearty and positive ways had given her the entree of

the Government hospitals from the first, but she too discouraged her

from the effort, assuring her, in her blunt way, that there was no

poetry in this sort of thing, that the men were very dirty, hungry and

rough, and that they would not appreciate refinement of manner, or be

grateful for the attention bestowed on them by a delicate and educated

lady. Finding that these representations failed to divert Miss Hall, and

her sister who accompanied her, from their purpose, Mrs. Fales threw

open the door of one of the wards, saying as she did so, "Well, girls,

here they are, with everything to be done for them. You will find work

enough."

There was, indeed, work enough. The men were very dirty, the "sacred

soil" of Virginia clinging to their clothing and persons in plenty.

Their hair was matted and tangled, and often, not free from vermin, and

they were as Mrs. Fales had said, a rough set. But those apparently

fragile and delicate girls had great energy and resolution, and the

subject of our sketch was not disposed to undertake an enterprise and

then abandon it. She had trials of other kinds, to bear. The surgeons

afforded her few or no facilities for her work; and evidently expected

that her whim of nursing would soon be given over. Then came the general

order for the removal of volunteer nurses from the hospitals; this she

evaded by enrolling herself as nurse, and drawing army pay, which she

distributed to the men. For nearly a year she remained in this position,

without command, with much hard work to do, and no recognition of it

from any official source; but though the situation was not in any

respect agreeable, there was a consciousness of usefulness, of service

of the Master in it to sustain her; and while under her gentle

ministrations cleanliness took the place of filth, order of disorder,

and profanity was banished, because "the lady did not like it," it was

also her privilege occasionally to lead the wanderer from God back to

the Saviour he had deserted, and to point the sinner to the "Lamb of God

that taketh away the sins of the world." In the summer of 1862, Miss

Hall joined the Hospital Transport service, first on the Daniel Webster,

No. 2, a steamer which had been used for the transportation of troops

from Washington. After the sick and wounded of this transport had been

disposed of, Miss Hall was transferred to the Daniel Webster, the

original hospital transport of the Sanitary Commission, where she

labored faithfully for some weeks after the change of base to Harrison's

Landing, when she was associated with Mrs. Almira Fales in caring for

the suffering wounded on shore. They found the poor fellows in a

terrible plight, in rotten and leaky tents, and lying on the damp soil,

sodden with the heavy rains, and poisonous from the malarial

exhalations, in need of clothing, food, medicine, and comfort; and

though but scantily supplied with the needful stores, these ladies

spared no labor or exertion to improve their condition, and they were

successful to a greater extent than would have seemed possible. When the

army returned to Alexandria, Miss Hall visited her home for a short

interval of rest; but the great battle of Antietam called her again to

her chosen work; she went to the battle-field, intending to join Mrs.

Harris, of the Ladies' Aid Society of Philadelphia, who was already at

work there, and had telegraphed for her; but being unable to find her at

first, she entered a hospital of wounded Rebel prisoners, and ministered

to them until Mrs. Harris having ascertained her situation, sent for her

to come to Smoketown General Hospital, where at that time the wounded of

French's Division were gathered, and which ultimately received the

wounded of the different corps who were unable to endure the fatigue of

transportation to Washington, Baltimore or Philadelphia. Dr.

Vanderkieft, an accomplished physician and a man of rare tenderness,

amiability and goodness, was at this time the surgeon of the Smoketown

Hospital, and appreciating Miss Hall's skill and adaptation to her work,

he welcomed her cordially, and did everything in his power to render her

position pleasant. Mrs. Harris was soon called to other scenes, and

after Fredericksburg, went to Falmouth and remained there several

months, but Miss Hall, and Mrs. Husband who was now associated with her

remained at Smoketown; and when Mrs. Husband left, Miss Hall still

continued till May, 1863, when the hospital was broken up, and the

remaining inmates sent to other points.[J]

[Footnote J: The following letter addressed to Miss Hall, by one of the

wounded soldiers under her care at the Smoketown Hospital, a Frenchman

who, while a great sufferer, kept the whole tent full of wounded men

cheerful and bright with his own cheerfulness, singing the Marseillaise

and other patriotic songs, is but one example of thousands, of the

regard felt for her, by the soldiers whose sufferings she had relieved

by her gentle and kindly ministrations.

"MANCHESTER, MASS. _June 28th_, 1866.

"Miss M. M. C. Hall:--There are kind deeds received which a _man_

cannot ever forget, more especially when they are done by one who

does not expect any rewards for them, but the satisfaction of

having helped humanity.

"But as one who first unfortunate, and next fortunate enough to

come under your kind cares, I come rather late perhaps to pay you a

tribute of gratitude which should have been done ere this. I say

pay,--I do not mean that with few lines in a broken English, I

expect to reward you for your good care of me while I was lying at

Smoketown--no, words or gold could not repay you for your

sufferings, privations, the painful hard sights which the angels of

the battle-field are willing to face,--no, God alone can reward

you. Yet, please accept, Miss, the assurance of my profound

respect, and my everlasting gratitude. May the God of Justice,

Freedom and love, ever protect you, and reward you for your conduct

on this earth is the wish of

"Your obedient and respectful servant,

"JULIUS F. RABARDY."

The Frenchman who sometimes sang the Marseillaise--formerly of the

12th Massachusetts Volunteers.]

One feature of this Hospital-life both at Smoketown, and the other

Hospitals with which Miss Hall was connected, a feature to which many of

those under her care revert with great pleasure, was the evening or

family prayers. Those of the convalescent soldiers who cared to do so

were accustomed to assemble every evening at her tent, and engage in

social worship, the chaplain usually being present and taking the lead

of the meeting, and in the event of his absence, one of the soldiers

being the leader. This evening hour was looked for with eagerness, and

to some, we might say, to many, it was the beginning of new hopes and a

new life. Many, after rejoining their regiments, wrote back to their

friends, "We think of you all at the sweet hour of prayer, and know that

you will remember us when you gather in the little tent." The life in

the Hospital, was by this and other means, rendered the vestibule of a

new and holy life, a life of faith and Christian endeavor to many, and

this young Christian woman was enabled to exercise an influence for good

which shall endure through the untold ages of eternity.

After a short period of rest, Miss Hall again reported for duty at the

Naval Academy Hospital, Annapolis, whither considerable numbers of the

wounded from Gettysburg were brought, and where her old friend Dr.

Vanderkieft was the Surgeon-in-charge. After a time, the exchanged

prisoners from Belle Isle and Libby Prison, and subsequently those from

Andersonville, Florence, Salisbury and Wilmington, began to come into

this Hospital, and it was Miss Hall's painful privilege to be permitted

to minister to these poor victims of Rebel cruelty and hate, who amid

the horrors of the charnel houses, had not only lost their health, but

almost their semblance to humanity, and reduced by starvation and

suffering to a condition of fatuity, often could not remember their own

names. In these scenes of horror, with the patience and tenderness born

only of Christianity, she ministered to these poor helpless men,

striving to bring them back to life, and health, and reason, comforting

them in their sufferings, pointing the dying to a suffering Saviour,

and corresponding with their friends as circumstances required.

It was at Dr. Vanderkieft's request, that she came to this Hospital, and

at first she was placed in charge of Section Five, consisting of the

Hospital tents outside of the main building. Mrs. Adaline Tyler, (Sister

Tyler), was at this time lady Superintendent of the entire Hospital, and

administered her duties with great skill and ability. When, in the

spring of 1864, as we have elsewhere recorded, the impaired health of

Mrs. Tyler rendered her further stay in the Hospital impossible. Miss

Hall, though young, was deemed by Dr. Vanderkieft, most eminently

qualified to succeed her in the general superintendency of this great

Hospital, and she remained in charge of it till it was closed in the

summer of 1865. Here she had at times, more than four thousand of these

poor sufferers under her care, and although she had from ten to twenty

assistants, each in charge of a section, yet her own labors were

extremely arduous, and her care and responsibility such as few could

have sustained. The danger, as well as the care, was very much increased

by the prevalence of typhus-fever, in a very malignant form in the

Hospital, brought there by some of the poor victims of rebel barbarity

from Andersonville. Three of her most valued assistants contracted this

fearful disease from the patients whom they had so carefully watched

over and died, martyrs to their philanthropy and patriotism.

During her residence at this Hospital, Miss Hall often contributed to

"THE CRUTCH," a soldier's weekly paper, edited by Miss Titcomb, one of

the assistant superintendents, to which the other ladies, the officers

and some of the patients were also contributors. This paper created much

interest in the hospital.

Our record of the work of this active and devoted Christian woman is but

brief, for though there were almost numberless instances of suffering,

of heroism and triumph passing constantly under her eye, yet the work of

one day was so much like that of every other, that it afforded little of

incident in her own labors to require a longer narrative. Painful as

many of her experiences were, yet she found as did many others who

engaged in it that it was a blessed and delightful work, and in the

retrospect, more than a year after its close, she uttered these words in

regard to it, words to which the hearts of many other patriotic women

will respond, "I mark my Hospital days as my happiest ones, and thank

God for the way in which He led me into the good work, and for the

strength which kept me through it all."

THE HOSPITAL CORPS AT THE NAVAL ACADEMY HOSPITAL, ANNAPOLIS.

Though the Naval Academy buildings at Annapolis had been used for

hospital purposes, from almost the first months of the war, they did not

acquire celebrity, or accommodate a very large number of patients until

August, 1863, when Surgeon Vanderkieft took charge of it, and it

received great numbers of the wounded men from Gettysburg. As the number

of these was reduced by deaths, convalescence and discharge from the

army, their places were more than supplied by the returning prisoners,

paroled or discharged, from Libby, Belle Isle, Andersonville, Millen,

Salisbury, Florence and Wilmington. These poor fellows under the

horrible cruelties, systematically practiced by the rebel authorities,

with the avowed intention of weakening the Union forces, had been

starved, frozen, maimed and tortured until they had almost lost the

semblance of humanity, and one of the noble women who cared for them so

tenderly, states that she often found herself involuntarily placing her

hand upon her cheek to ascertain whether their flesh was like hers,

human and vitalized. The sunken hollow cheeks, the parchment skin drawn

so tightly over the bones, the great, cavernous, lackluster eyes, the

half idiotic stare, the dreamy condition, the loss of memory even of

their own names, and the wonder with which they regarded the most

ordinary events, so strange to them after their long and fearful

experience, all made them seem more like beings from some other world,

than inhabitants of this. Many of them never recovered fully their

memory or reason; the iron had entered the soul. Others lingered long on

the confines of two worlds, now rallying a little and then falling back,

till finally the flickering life went out suddenly; a few of the

hardiest and toughest survived, and recovered partial though seldom or

never complete health. During a part of the first year of Dr.

Vanderkieft's administration, Mrs. Adaline Tyler ("Sister Tyler") was

Lady Superintendent of the hospital, and the sketch elsewhere given of

her life shows how earnestly and ably she labored to promote the

interest of its inmates. During most of this time Miss Maria M. C. Hall

had charge of section five, consisting of the hospital tents which

occupied a part of the academical campus. Miss Helen M. Noye, a young

lady from Buffalo, a very faithful, enthusiastic and cheerful worker,

was her assistant, and remained for nearly a year in the hospital.

When in the spring of 1864, Miss Hall was appointed Mrs. Tyler's

successor as Lady Superintendent of the hospital, its numerous large

wards required several assistant superintendents who should direct the

preparation of the special diet, and the other delicacies so desirable

for the sick, attend to the condition of the men, ascertain their

circumstances and history, correspond with their friends, and endeavor

so far as possible to cheer, comfort and encourage their patients.

When the number of patients was largest twenty of these assistants were

required, and the illness of some, or their change to other fields,

rendered the list a varying one, over thirty different ladies being

connected with the hospital during the two years from July, 1863, to

July, 1865.

A considerable number of these ladies had accompanied Mrs. Tyler to

Annapolis, having previously been her assistants in the general hospital

at Chester, Pennsylvania. Among these were nine from Maine, viz., Miss

Louise Titcomb, Miss Susan Newhall, Miss Rebecca R. Usher, Miss Almira

Quimby, Miss Emily W. Dana, Miss Adeline Walker, Miss Mary E. Dupee,

Miss Mary Pierson, and Mrs. Eunice D. Merrill, all women of excellent

abilities and culture, and admirably adapted to their work. One of this

band of sisters, Miss Adeline Walker, died on the 28th of April, 1865,

of malignant typhus, contracted in the discharge of her duties in the

hospital.

Of her Miss Hall wrote in the _Crutch_, "She slept at sunset, sinking

into the stillness of death as peacefully as a melted day into the

darkness of the night. For two years and a half--longer than almost any

other here--she had pursued her labors in this hospital, and with her

ready sympathy with the suffering or wronged, had ministered to many

needy ones the balm of comfort and healing. Her quick wit and keen

repartee has served to brighten up many an hour otherwise dull and

unhomelike in our little circle of workers, gathered in our quarters off

duty.

"So long an inmate of this hospital its every part was familiar to her;

its trees and flowers she loved; in all its beauties she rejoiced. We

could almost fancy a hush in nature's music, as we walked behind her

coffin, under the beautiful trees in the bright May sunshine.