do all she could. A homespun blanket bore the
inscription, "This blanket was carried by Milly Aldrich, who is
ninety-three years old, down hill and up hill, one and a-half miles, to
be given to some soldier."

A box of lint bore this touching record, "Made in a sick-room where the
sunlight has not entered for nine years, but where God has entered, and
where two sons have bade their mother good-bye, as they have gone out to
the war."

Every one knows the preciousness of the household linen which has been
for generations an heirloom in a family. Yet in numerous instances,
linen sheets, table-cloths, and napkins, from one hundred and twenty to
two hundred years old, which no money could have purchased, were
dedicated, often by those who had nought else to give, to the service of
the hospital.

An instance of generous and self-denying patriotism related by Mrs. D.
P. Livermore, of the Northwestern Sanitary Commission, deserves a record
in this connection, as it was one which has had more than one
counterpart elsewhere. "Some two or three months ago, a poor girl, a
seamstress, came to our rooms. 'I do not feel right,' she said, 'that I
am doing nothing for our soldiers in the hospitals, and have resolved to
do _something_ immediately. Which do you prefer--that I should give
money, or buy material and manufacture it into garments?'"

"You must be guided by your circumstances," was the answer made her; "we
need both money and supplies, and you must do that which is most
convenient for you."

"I prefer to give you money, if it will do as much good."

"Very well; then give money, which we need badly, and without which we
cannot do what is most necessary for our brave sick men."

"Then I will give you the entire earnings of the next two weeks. I'd
give more, but I have to help support my mother who is an invalid.
Generally I make but one vest a day, but I will work earlier and later
these two weeks." In two weeks she came again, the poor sewing girl,
her face radiant with the consciousness of philanthropic intent. Opening
her porte-monnaie, she counted out _nineteen dollars and thirty-seven
cents_. Every penny was earned by the slow needle, and she had stitched
away into the hours of midnight on every one of the working days of the
week. The patriotism which leads to such sacrifices as these, is not
less deserving of honor than that which finds scope for its energies in
ministering to the wounded on the battle-field or in