and then to give
doses, issue orders, which well-trained attendants executed, and pet,
advise, or comfort Tom, Dick, or Harry, as she found best. As I watched
the proceedings, I recalled my own tribulations, and contrasted the two
hospitals in a way that would have caused my summary dismissal, could
it have been reported at headquarters. Here, order, method, common
sense and liberality reigned and ruled, in a style that did one's heart
good to see; at the Hurly burly Hotel, disorder, discomfort, bad
management, and no visible head, reduced things to a condition which I
despair of describing. The circumlocution fashion prevailed, forms and
fusses tormented our souls, and unnecessary strictness in one place was
counterbalanced by unpardonable laxity in another. Here is a sample: I
am dressing Sam Dammer's shoulder; and, having cleansed the wound, look
about for some strips of adhesive plaster to hold on the little square
of wet linen which is to cover the gunshot wound; the case is not in
the tray; Frank, the sleepy, half-sick attendant, knows nothing of it;
we rummage high and low; Sam is tired, and fumes; Frank dawdles and
yawns; the men advise and laugh at the flurry; I feel like a boiling
tea-kettle, with the lid ready to fly off and damage somebody.

"Go and borrow some from the next ward, and spend the rest of the day
in finding ours," I finally command. A pause; then Frank scuffles back
with the message: "Miss Peppercorn ain't got none, and says you ain't
no business to lose your own duds and go borrowin' other folkses." I
say nothing, for fear of saying too much, but fly to the surgery. Mr.
Toddypestle informs me that I can't have anything without an order from
the surgeon of my ward. Great heavens! where is he? and away I rush, up
and down, here and there, till at last I find him, in a state of bliss
over a complicated amputation, in the fourth story. I make my demand;
he answers: "In five minutes," and works away, with his head upside
down, as he ties an artery, saws a bone, or does a little needle-work,
with a visible relish and very sanguinary pair of hands. The five
minutes grow to fifteen, and Frank appears, with the remark that,
"Dammer wants to know what in thunder you are keeping him there with
his finger on a wet rag for?" Dr. P. tears himself away long enough to
scribble the order, with which I plunge downward to the surgery again,
find the door locked, and, while hammering away on it, am told that two