ed in the former. At an early age she
became a member of the Old School Presbyterian Church, with which she
still retains her connection, her husband being a ruling elder in the
same church.

In her twentieth year she was married to Mr. A. H. Hoge, a merchant of
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, where she resided fourteen years. At the end of
that period she removed to Chicago, Illinois, where she has since dwelt.

Mrs. Hoge has been the mother of thirteen children, five of whom have
passed away before her. One of these, the Rev. Thomas Hoge, was a young
man of rare endowments and promise.

As before stated, from the very beginning of the war, Mrs. Hoge
identified herself with the interests of her country. Two of her sons
immediately entered the army, and she at once commenced her unwearied
personal services for the sick and wounded soldiers.

At first she entered only into that work of supply in which so large a
portion of the loyal women of the North labored more or less
continuously all through the war. But the first public act of her life
as a Sanitary Agent, was to visit, at the request of the Chicago branch
of the United States Sanitary Commission, the hospitals at Cairo, Mound
City and St. Louis.

Of her visit to one of these hospitals she subsequently related the
following incidents:

"The first great hospital I visited was Mound City, twelve miles from
Cairo. It contained twelve hundred beds, furnished with dainty sheets,
and pillows and shirts, from the Sanitary Commission, and ornamented
with boughs of fresh apple blossoms, placed there by tender female
nurses to refresh the languid frames of their mangled inmates. As I took
my slow and solemn walk through this congregation of suffering humanity,
I was arrested by the bright blue eyes, and pale but dimpled cheek, of a
boy of nineteen summers. I perceived he was bandaged like a mummy, and
could not move a limb; but still he smiled. The nurse who accompanied me
said, 'We call this boy our miracle. Five weeks ago, he was shot down at
Donelson; both legs and arms shattered. To-day, with great care, he has
been turned for the first time, and never a murmur has escaped his
lips, but grateful words and pleasant looks have cheered us.' Said I to
the smiling boy, some absent mother's pride, 'How long did you lie on
the field after being shot?' 'From Saturday morning till Sunday
evening,' he replied, 'and then I was chopped out, for I had frozen
feet.' 'How did it happen