st this terrible temptation. I had,
I reasoned, been already exposed as much as was possible, having
attended the sick man for days before. Having dedicated myself to the
Holy Cause, for better or worse, I could not desert it even when put
to this trying test. So, when Dr. Beatty came to say that in a few
hours quarantine would be established and rigidly enforced, offering
me transportation that I might at once go on with the large party who
were leaving, I simply announced my determination to remain, but asked
that Tempe might be sent to her owners in Alabama, as I dared not risk
keeping her.

The poor fellow who had been first seized died that night, and
afterward many unfortunates were buried beneath the snow-laden pines.
Some of the nurses fell sick; from morning until night, after, far
into the night, my presence was required in those fever-haunted tents.

When not on duty, the loneliness of my cabin was almost insupportable.
Sometimes I longed to flee away from the dismal monotony. Often I sat
upon my doorstep almost ready to scream loudly enough to drown the sad
music of the pines. Since the war I have seen a little poem by John
Esten Cooke, which always reminds me of the time when the band in the
pines brought such sadness to my own heart:

"THE BAND IN THE PINES.

"Oh, band in the pine-wood cease!
Cease with your splendid call;
The living are brave and noble,
But the dead were bravest of all!

"They throng to the martial summons,
To the loud, triumphant strain;
And the dear bright eyes of long-dead friends
Come to the heart again.

"They come with the ringing bugle
And the deep drum's mellow roar,
Till the soul is faint with longing
For the hands we clasp no more!

"Oh, band in the pine-wood cease
Or the heart will melt in tears,
For the gallant eyes and the smiling lips
And the voices of old years!"

When, at last, we were released from durance vile, the Confederate
army had retreated. Of course, the hospitals must follow it. By this
time my health was completely broken down. The rigors of the winter,
the incessant toil, the hard rations had done their work well. I was
no longer fit to nurse the sick. In February I left the camp,
intending to go for a while wherever help was needed, relying upon a
change to recuperate my exhausted energies.

But from that time there was so much irregularity as far as hospital
organization was concerned that one