ing. She was again denied more peremptorily than before.

"Very well," she replied, "I am myself a Massachusetts woman, seeking to
do good to the citizens of my own state. If not allowed to do so, I
shall immediately send a telegram to Governor Andrew, informing him that
my request is denied."

This spirited reply produced the desired result, and after a little
consultation among the officials, who probably found the Governor of a
State a much more formidable antagonist than a woman, coming alone on an
errand of mercy, the doors were opened and she was conducted to that
upper room where the fallen patriots lay.

Two were already dead. Two or three were in bed, the rest lay in their
misery upon stretchers, helpless objects of the tongue abuse of the
profane wretches who, "dressed in a little brief authority," walked up
and down, thus pouring out their wrath. All the wounded had been
drugged, and were either partially or entirely insensible to their
miseries. Some eight or ten hours had elapsed since the wounds were
received, but no attention had been paid to them, further than to
staunch the blood by thrusting into them large pieces of cotton cloth.
Even their clothes had not been removed. One of them (Coburn) had been
shot in the hip, another (Sergeant Ames) was wounded in the back of the
neck, just at the base of the brain, apparently by a heavy glass bottle,
for pieces of the glass yet remained in the wound, and lay in bed, still
in his soldier's overcoat, the rough collar of which irritated the
ghastly wound. These two were the most dangerously hurt.

Mrs. Tyler with some difficulty obtained these men, and procuring, by
the aid of her driver, a furniture van, had them laid upon it and
conveyed to her house, the Deaconesses' Home. Here a surgeon was called,
their wounds dressed, and she extended to them the care and kindness of
a mother, until they were so nearly well as to be able to proceed to
their own homes. She during this time refused protection from the
police, and declared that she felt no fears for her own safety while
thus strictly in the line of the duties to which her life was pledged.

This was by no means the last work of this kind performed by Sister
Tyler. Other wounded men were received and cared for by her--one a
German, member of a Pennsylvania Regiment, (who was accidentally shot by
one of his own comrades) whom she nursed to health in her own house.

For her efforts in behalf of the Massachus