hat days our Sundays have been! I think of you all at rest,
and the sound of church bells in your ears, with a strange, distant
feeling."

This was the general state of things at the time when the battle of Fair
Oaks was fought, June 1, 1862. All the vessels of the Commission except
"The Spaulding"--and she was hourly expected--were on the spot, and
ready. "The Elm City" happened to be full of fever cases. A vague rumor
of a battle prevailed, soon made certain by the sound of the
cannonading; and she left at once (4 A. M.) to discharge her sick at
Yorktown, and performed the great feat of getting back to White House,
cleaned, and with her beds made, before sunset of the same day. By that
time the wounded were arriving. The boats of the Commission filled up
calmly. The young men had a system by which they shipped their men; and
there was neither hurry nor confusion, as the vessels, one by one,--"The
Elm City," "The Knickerbocker," "The Daniel Webster,"--filled up and
left the landing. After them, other boats, detailed by the Government
for hospital service, came up. These boats were not under the control of
the Commission. There was no one specially appointed to take charge of
them; no one to receive the wounded at the station; no one to see that
the boats were supplied with proper stores. A frightful scene of
confusion and misery ensued. The Commission came forward to do what it
could; but it had no power, only the right of charity. It could not
control, scarcely check, the fearful confusion that prevailed, as train
after train came in, and the wounded were brought and thrust upon the
various boats. But it did nobly what it could. Night and day its members
worked: not, it must be remembered, in its own well-organized service,
but in the hard duty of making the best of a bad case. Not the smallest
preparation was found, on at least three of the boats, for the common
food of the men; and, as for sick-food, stimulants, drinks, there was
nothing of the kind on any one of the boats, and not a pail nor a cup to
distribute food, had there been any.

No one, it is believed, can tell the story, _as it occurred_, of the
next three days;--no one can tell distinctly what boats they were, on
which they lived and worked through those days and nights. They remember
scenes and sounds, but they remember nothing as a whole; and, to this
day, if they are feverish and weary, comes back the sight of men in
every condition of horror, borne,