large quantity of
supplies. They remained there, in constant and unwearied attendance upon
the large number of wounded from this important battle, for nine or ten
weeks.

The writer of this sketch was at that time in Chicago, and well
remembers the return of these ladies from this errand of mercy, and the
simple pathos of the report they then made, to the Board of Trade, of
their work and their stewardship of the funds entrusted to them by that
body for the expenses of the expedition, and the use of the wounded.

As these ladies were the first volunteers upon the ground, they were
warmly welcomed by the medical director and surgeons, and their services
at once rendered available both in the preparation of delicacies for the
sufferers, and in personal attendance upon them. Here Mrs. Hosmer met
with a most singular and touching incident. A soldier who had been
wounded in the leg, and taken prisoner, had his leg amputated by a Rebel
surgeon. He was afterwards recaptured, and being found in a dreadful and
dangerous condition, had to suffer a second amputation. It was only by
the closest and best of care that there remained a possibility that his
life might be saved; and this the surgeon in charge requested of Mrs.
Hosmer.

On approaching his bed, Mrs. Hosmer was almost painfully struck by his
strong resemblance to one of her sons, while he was at the same instant,
bewildered and excited by discovering in her an equally strong likeness
to the mother he was never to see again.

It need hardly be said that this accidental likeness caused a strong
bond of feeling between those till that moment utter strangers. The
soldier begged to be allowed to call the lady mother, and she was only
too glad to minister to him as she hoped some kind soul might do to the
son he resembled, should an hour of need occur. She found him to be an
educated and intelligent young man. She did for him all she could, and
watched and tended him with real devotion, but in vain. It was found
impossible to save him; and when he was gone, she performed the last of
her sad offices, by cutting from above his brow a mass of clustering,
raven curls, which she enclosed in a letter to his mother, telling her
all she knew of her boy's bravery, and his fate.

These days at Murfreesboro were days of hard labor, but of great
satisfaction. There had been more than five thousand men in hospital,
but these were thinned out by deaths, convalescence, etc., until but fe