ry, but great as
their labors and sacrifices have been, they are certainly inferior to
those of some of the loyal women of the South, who for the love they
bore to their country and its flag, braved all the contempt, obloquy and
scorn which Southern women could heap upon them--who lived for years in
utter isolation from the society of relatives, friends, and neighbors,
because they would render such aid and succor as was in their power to
the defenders of the national cause, in prison, in sorrow and in
suffering. Often were the lives of those brave women in danger, and the
calmness with which they met those who thirsted for their blood gave
evidence of their position of a spirit as undaunted and lofty as any
which ever faced the cannon's mouth or sought death in the high places
of the field. Among these heroines none deserves a higher place in the
records of womanly patriotism and courage than Mrs. Sarah R. Johnston.

At the breaking out of the war Mrs. Johnston was teaching a school at
Salisbury, North Carolina, where she was born and always resided. When
the first prisoners were brought into that place, the Southern women
turned out in their carriages and with a band escorted them through the
town, and when they filed past saluted them with contemptuous epithets.
From that time Mrs. Johnston determined to devote herself to the
amelioration of the condition of the prisoners; and the testimony of
thousands of the Union soldiers confined there proved how nobly she
performed the duties she undertook. It was no easy task, for she was
entirely alone, being the only woman who openly advocated Union
sentiments and attempted to administer to the wants of the prisoners.
For fifteen months none of the women of Salisbury spoke to her or called
upon her, and every possible indignity was heaped on her as a "Yankee
sympathizer." Her scholars were withdrawn from her school, and it was
broken up, and her means were very limited; nevertheless, she
accomplished more by systematic arrangements than many would have done
with a large outlay of money.

When the first exchange of prisoners was made, she went to the depot to
arrange some pallets for some of the sick who were leaving, when she
stumbled in the crowd, and looking down she found a young Federal
soldier who had fainted and fallen, and was in danger of being trodden
to death. She raised him up and called for water, but none of the people
would get a drop to save a "Yankee's" life.