Florence
Nightingale, and those who assisted her found their work and its
surroundings as unlovely as it is here. I won't believe it. In Europe
things are different, and the hospitals are made fitting places for
women to visit and dwell in."

It would have helped her much if she could have known that the Crimean
hospitals, in which Florence Nightingale won world-wide fame, lacked
immeasurably of the conveniences and comforts with which American
ingenuity and lavish generosity mitigated somewhat the wretchedness of
army hospitals.

Lying still became unendurable, she rose, in hopes that action might
bring some sort of relief. Such plain toilet was made as the very
limited means at her command permitted. The scant privacy afforded by
her room was another torture. Maiden modesty suggested a Peeping Tom at
every yawning crack in the planking.

At least, neatly attired in a serviceable gray frock, with a dainty
white collar at her throat, and her satiny hair brushed smoothly over
her forehead, she opened her door and stepped out into the main ward
room.

A murmur of appreciation arose from those who looked upon her, and
the sick ceased groaning, to feast their eyes upon the fair, fresh
apparition of sweet young womanhood. There was such unmistakable
pleasure written on every face that for a moment even she herself became
a little conscious that her presence was like a grateful shower upon a
parched and weary land. But before she could buoy her spirits up with
this knowledge they sank again as she perceived Dr. Moxon stalking down
the long aisle, with ill-humor expressed in every motion of his bulky
figure. He was frowning deeply; his great feet fell flatly upon the
creaking planks, as if he were crushing something at every step, and he
rated the occupants of the cots on either side as he passed along.

"No. 4," he said sharply to a gaunt boy, whose cheeks were burning with
rising fever, "you've got a relapse. Serves you right for leaving your
bed yesterday. Now don't deny it, for I saw you outside myself. I'll
send the Wardmaster to the guard-house for that."

"But, Doctor, it wasn't his fault," gasped the sick man, painfully. "I
begged so hard to go out that he couldn't refuse me. It was so hot
in here and smelled so badly, that I felt I should die unless I got a
breath of fresh air."

"Silence!" thundered the Surgeon; "I'll have no talking back to me.
Steward, send that Wardmaster to the guard-house for disobedie