sides of the road. I will not attempt to
describe the battle, for I did not participate in it; I was left by order
of the surgeon in the hospital just established in the village. It was a
large two story building, situated on the east side of the town. That
night I was put in the second story. The room was filled with the wounded
and dying.

At about three o'clock in the morning, I was obliged to go down. The moon
was still shining in all its beauty and loveliness over the western
hill-tops. As I turned the corner of the building a sight met my gaze
which baffles description.

There were about thirty dead bodies, mangled in every conceivable shape,
covered with blood, with eyes wide open glaring at me. My very blood run
cold with horror, and it was some minutes before I could pass them. Since
then, I have become accustomed to such scenes, but I can never recall that
sight without a feeling of dread.

On the 15th, the battle at South Mountain was still raging. All was
excitement. I had no thought of self now, but bent all my energies to the
task of caring for the wounded. There were two others with me, and we
tried in every possible way to alleviate their sufferings. We brought them
water, washed their wounds, and spoke words of comfort. We had no
experience in such things, but did the best we could.

The surgeon, who came round about nine o'clock, said we had done well.
After looking at some of the worst cases, he gave us orders, advising us
to do the best we could. For three days and nights I had neither sleep nor
rest, when I was compelled to give up and take my chance with the others.

The ladies here, I shall ever remember with gratitude; they were very kind
to us, bringing us many luxuries we should not otherwise have had.

I was now brought very low by the chronic diarrhea; I could hardly get up,
and still no help appeared in my case. True, the surgeon was very kind,
but I thought it rather hard when he told me "you must let it run. I
cannot help you, I have nothing to do with."

I had heard the ladies telling of one Polly Lincoln, who possessed much
skill. I thought perhaps she might cure me, so I made further inquiries in
regard to her, and learned that she lived most of the time alone in a hut
made of logs, not far from the hospital. She gathered her own herbs, made
her own medicine, and performed wonderful cures,--so they told me.

With the surgeon's permission, I soon found her out and told her my
com