Two men she saw at once were dying, but there were others whom she
thought there was a possibility of saving, and these she attended to at
once. For many hours she remained in this strangely crowded room, and
when she did quit it she only went away for an hour's sleep. On her
return to the plague-spot she found fresh patients awaiting her, one, a
little baby, who in spite of her efforts died. Everything was against
Mary Seacole in this pestilential stable, but nevertheless she was the
means of saving some lives.

At length, when the plague was dying out, the brave woman who had so
nobly fought the disease was herself stricken with it, but happily for
the British army she recovered.

Throughout the plague Mary Seacole had treated rich and poor alike.
The centless man and the down-trodden muleteer received as much
attention from her as the wealthy diggers returning home with their
bags of gold dust. The latter paid her liberally for having tended
them, but the majority of her patients had nothing but thanks to give
her. Possibly she appreciated the latter most, for some of her rich
patients seemed to think that having rewarded her they had wiped out
the debt of gratitude.

On June 4 some of her wealthy patients gave a dinner party, and invited
Mary Seacole to be present. One speaker proposed her health, and after
referring to her having saved their lives continued in the following
strain: 'Well, gentlemen, I expect there are only two things we are
vexed for. The first is that she ain't one of us--a citizen of the
great United States; and the other thing is, gentlemen, that Providence
made her a yellow woman. I calculate, gentlemen, that you're all as
vexed as I am that she's not wholly white, but I do reckon on your
rejoicing with me that she's so many shades removed from being entirely
black; and I guess if we could bleach her by any means we would, and
thus make her as acceptable in any company as she deserves to be.
Gentlemen, I give you Aunty Seacole.'

Mary Seacole's reply to this ill-mannered speech was as follows:
'Gentlemen, I return you my best thanks for your kindness in drinking
my health. As for what I have done in Cruces, Providence evidently
made me to be useful, and I can't help it. But I must say that I don't
appreciate your friend's kind wishes with respect to my complexion. If
it had been as dark as any nigger's, I should have been just as happy
and as useful, and as much respected by t