), but with a military cap on his head. It was one of my fever
patients who had been lying at death's door for days. The excitement
of the morning having brought on an access of fever with delirium, he
had arisen from his bed, put on his cap, and started, yelling, "_to
join the boys!_" Weak as I had supposed him to be, his strength almost
over-mastered my own. I could hardly prevent him from going down the
stairs. The only man in the ward able to assist me at all was minus an
arm and just recovering after amputation. I was afraid his wound might
possibly begin to bleed, besides, I knew that any _man's_ interference
would excite the patient still more. Relying upon the kindly,
chivalrous feeling which my presence always seemed to inspire in my
patients, I promised to get his gun for him if he would go back and
put on his clothes, and, placing my arm around the already tottering
and swaying figure, by soothing and coaxing got him back to the bed. A
sinking spell followed, from which he never rallied. In a lower ward
another death occurred, due also to sudden excitement.

Fearful of the effect that a knowledge of this would have upon other
patients, I resorted to deception, declaring that the dead men were
better and asleep, covering them, excluding light from windows near
them, and even pretending at intervals to administer medicines.

And now came another trial, from which I shrank fearfully, but which
must be borne.

In the "wounded wards," and in tents outside where men having gangrene
were isolated, horrible sights awaited me,--sights which I trembled to
look upon,--fearful wounds which had, so far, been attended to only by
the surgeons.

These wounds were now dry, and the men were groaning with pain. Minute
directions having been left with me, I must nerve myself to uncover
the dreadful places, wash them, and apply fresh cloths. In the cases
of gangrene, poultices of yeast and charcoal, or some other
preparation left by the surgeons.

Entering Ward No. 3, where there were many badly-wounded men, I began
my work upon a boy of perhaps nineteen years, belonging to a North
Carolina regiment, who had one-half of his face shot away.

My readers may imagine the dreadful character of the wounds in this
ward, when I relate that a day or two after a terrible battle at the
front, when dozens of wounded were brought in, so badly were they
mangled and so busy were the surgeons, that I was permitted to dress
this boy's face