women, strong even in death. I could
only offer the stricken soldier the little comfort human sympathy can
give, but my tears flowed plentifully as he told me of his wife and
his home.

He was, as I afterwards learned, killed at the battle of Franklin. I
thought almost with pleasure of the happy reunion which I felt sure
must have followed.

How often I have marshalled into the hospital wards mothers and wives,
who for the sake of some absent loved one had come from homes many
miles away, to bring some offering to the sick. Timid, yet earnest
women, poorly dressed, with sunbrowned faces and rough hands, yet
bearing in their hearts the very essence of loving-kindness towards
the poor fellows upon whose pale faces and ghastly wounds they looked
with "round-eyed wonder" and pity. After a while they would gain
courage to approach some soldier whom they found "sort o' favored"
their own, to whom they ventured to offer some dainty, would stroke
the wasted hand, smooth the hair, or hold to the fevered lips a drink
of buttermilk or a piece of delicious fruit. Ah, _how many_ times I
have watched such scenes! To the warmly-expressed thanks of the
beneficiaries they would simply answer, "That is nothing; 'mebbe'
somebody will do as much for mine when he needs it."

About seven miles from Ringgold, Georgia, lived an old couple, Mr. and
Mrs. Russell, who, although ardently loving the _cause_, were too old
and feeble to _serve_ it otherwise than by their unceasing prayers,
and by giving freely of their substance to sustain the patients at the
hospitals then established at Ringgold. Their daughter, "Miss Phemie,"
a beautiful young girl, was never weary of conferring benefits upon
the Southern soldiers; every day she rode in, never minding even heavy
storms, and often riding upon a wagon because it would hold a larger
supply of vegetables, etc. Many a soldier was taken to the homestead
to be cared for. Those who could not go from under medical or surgical
treatment were often treated to little rides. Her devotion to the
soldiers I can never forget.

Among the sick and wounded who were sent to the hospital at Newnan
were many Georgians whose homes were within twenty-five or thirty
miles.

After the fight at Missionary Ridge, two boys, brothers, were brought
in. One was threatened with pneumonia; the other, a lad of sixteen,
had his right arm shattered from the shoulder down. At his earnest
request his mother was sent for; the nec