University of Virginia Library

LETTER V.

Dear Mother,—I am going to keep a sort of a
journal for you. I was in the hospital yesterday, when
the door opened, and in walked Mr. Hasard to take me
to the boat. I got into the carriage, and found the
back seat strewn with articles for my comfort; a pretty
scarf to tie over my head; hospital manuals for my
edification; a bottle of choice brandy, in case of need
among those on board, &c. He took me on board
and left me. Such a scene of confusion and dirt, and
soldiers! The ship is built up in all sorts of ways, to
afford accommodation for the sick. We were obliged
to start while all was in confusion, in order to reach
the scene of action as soon as possible. If there should
be an engagement at present going on at Vicksburg,
we shall stop a little way above it.

The ship is getting into order. I have been in the linen
and supply room this morning. The doctor took
me there after breakfast; installed me in such a scene
of confusion! gave me the key with the advice not to
put things in order till he had sent up a quantity more!
Last evening, after supper, we all assembled in a little
cabin in the stern of the ship: there were eight ladies.
I belong to the ship; two others remain to nurse on
the passage up; the rest are to be sent on other boats.
There were two or three gentlemen present with us.
At nine one of them, a clergyman, proposed having

prayers: he first read the 14th of John, then prayed
that we might be helped and guarded in the work
which lay before us, and have the Lord with us. It
was very solemn. I feel now as if I had really entered
into the inner spirit of the times,—the feeling which
counts danger as nothing, but works straight on as
our Puritan forefathers worked before us. I do
not mean that I am anything heroic, but I am understanding
what it is to be in the army. I never
before was among people who took it so seriously, because
I never was where the war was around us, nor
ever before was going into the midst of it; and this
makes us realize all that is at stake and what we are
doing. Self has to be put down more and more, and
the work before us must take complete possession of
our minds: this is not easy, but necessary. You have
no idea of the state of a military transport ship; and,
when filled with sick and wounded, it will demand all
our energies to meet the difficulties in our way. We
expect to be about five days reaching Vicksburg; we
are obliged to stop at the military posts in the way
and inquire into the state of the river, as the guerillas
are about. They attacked Island No. 10 again lately.
We shall pass it. How little I thought, when reading
the accounts of the battle there, that I should ever
sail by it!

I write disjointed letters, for I am continually interrupted,
and many things in my mind. . . .

Tuesday.—Our last orders are to go to Vicksburg.
We are now at Helena; look on the map and you

will see it. Imagine living in the midst of what the
children call a "dirt pie," and you will have an idea of
the condition of the people! We have several freed
slaves on board, freed by the act of our President.
One of the ladies heard them talking last night. One
of them said, "The Secesh are mighty smart, but these
folks are ketchin' up to 'em." Another came in with a
pair of creaking boots. "Ah, Jane," sung out one,
"your boots cry out of freedom." And so they keep
it up. They are under my direction, and a funny set
they are. I have an influenza, and the doctor ordered
me to keep quiet to-day, in order to be ready for work
by and by. So I am trying to do so.

Sunday.—I have been quite sick since I wrote. The
climate brought on an attack, and the doctor ordered
me to my bed. I am now getting over it, and much
better; but the doctor has told me to keep still for the
present, and one of the other ladies has gone into the
linen-room to take charge of the supplies there. It is
very cold there, and there can be no fire on account of
the risk. I shall probably confine myself to nursing
the rest of the time. The climate here is very trying
at first: I am getting used to it. We are in full sight
of Vicksburg, and have been watching the firing between
the enemy and one of our gunboats. Our men
are cutting a canal to get at the enemy by land, and
the object of the enemy is to stop the proceeding; so
they keep firing shells at our men, who are obliged to
stop work and run under cover; and then, when the
shell has exploded, our boat fires back and occupies the

enemy for a little while, so that our men get some
work done. It is a curious sight to see a little cloud
hover in the air, and know that it is such an engine;
it looks very pretty if you can forget for a minute what
it is. We look over at Vicksburg as you look at Boston
from Brookline, and see it quite as well. It is
built on a hill rising up from the water, and has a very
pretty effect. We can see the breastworks distinctly,
—long lines of red earth with cannon shining in the
sun. The Federal army are encamped around us, tents
away back among the trees, with causeways built up
to travel on. The mud is terrific; I think it grows.
I keep looking at my watch and wondering what you
are all doing: first, I thought of you at church, now
you are getting ready for dinner. I hope you are all
well and happy. I wonder what you have for dinner.
. . . .

Sunday week, Cairo.—My letter was interrupted
by the arrival of the sick men. They were all sick,
there having been no battle yet. We took on board
about four hundred, many very sick ones. Between
twenty and thirty died in the few days they were on
board. They were mostly brought on board on stretchers.
I saw one poor fellow assisted on board by his
comrade; he helped him to his bed, and then the two
rough men put their arms round each other, and with
the tears running down their cheeks kissed a good
by as tenderly as two children. They neither knew
when they would see each other again. The sick one
told me afterwards, the other had been a real good

friend to him. There was another on board very ill
with typhoid fever; watching over him was a fine-looking
man. I was so struck by their feeling for each
other that I asked if they were old friends. They replied
that they had been comrades for several years,
—they were old soldiers. You never saw any woman
more tender of another than the nurse was of his
friend! it was perfectly beautiful. They all seemed to
feel for each other so much! I was giving wine one
day to a dying man; it was all he could take, and I
carried it to him every now and then as he needed it.
I thought once I was giving him more than he wanted,
and asked him if he wanted it all; he looked up:
"Do you want to give part to another?" all ready to
give up his last if another needed it. I told him why
I asked. I suppose he has gone home by this time.
They seemed willing to go. I went to one man to see
what I could do for him; he was dying, and seemed in
distress, repeating "The Lord have mercy on me!"
I leaned over him and repeated the Psalm, beginning,
"The Lord is my shepherd,"—I think it is the 23rd:
one of the verses is, "Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for
Thou art with me." As I repeated it to him, he grew
quiet and peaceful, and his trouble seemed to pass
away: he died that night.

We started up river on Tuesday. When we left St.
Louis we expected to go back there, but the government
sent down word, or orders, that the sick should
be taken to Memphis, and the boat return to Vicksburg

either as a hospital boat or as was needed. Besides
the nurses detailed for the boat, six ladies came from
St. Louis with us, intending to return as nurses on
other boats; but there were no other boats coming, so
they stayed with us, and well they did! Every one
was needed. To cook for these sick and supply them
was no light task. The boat reached Memphis on
Friday. The men were disembarked as fast as possible.
We ladies found we must return to St. Louis by
a packet steamer; so went on board one at Memphis,
and next found that the government had ordered this
one to go back from Cairo to Vicksburg,—pressed into
service. So to-night we take the cars, and hope to
reach St. Louis to-morrow. There were many interesting
things at Vicksburg,—the camp, the men at their
various works. I was glad to see some of the Western
generals. I found them very pleasant and cordial: full
of anxious thought, but hopeful and determined; they
may die, but they will not give up. We have some
splendid men at the West here; I wish you could see
some of them. I do not know where I shall be placed
when I go back to St. Louis. I know one thing,—it
will all be ordered rightly: all I have to do is to be willing
to be led by One who is unfailing.

March 3.—I write in rather an abrupt style, but I
write often when tired and can only write a little.
You have no conception of the state of the boat when
we left it. Hercules might have cleaned it, nobody else
could; it was awful! We had no regular working-woman
on board; only contrabands who have not the slightest

idea of neatness. The men on board were very homesick,
—longing so for wife and children. One man told
me he had a child married, and other younger ones: he
was getting well, and all his thoughts seemed to be for
them and seeing them. They were of all ages, some
mere boys. I could not help thinking of their meeting
in another life,—whether they will think of their
comradeship here. There must be a strange mingling
of influences,—the spirits who are attendant on the
dying and the dead, those who are helping the living
and influencing in their different offices of use. You
do not know how much you are passing through at
such times, till it is all over and you feel the reaction.
I am glad of this two or three days' rest. I am struck
with the immediate peace that repeating the Word
brings to the men when in trouble; it is almost unfailing,
especially when they are dying. I am getting
sadly familiar with death,—I say, sadly, for it is hard
to have it come in such a way through this unnatural
war. You feel that it should be the mother or wife's
hand they should cling to, and not that of the stranger.

March 3, St. Louis.—After we got on board the
return boat, it was ordered to return to Vicksburg
from Cairo; so we took the cars at the latter place
and reached St. Louis yesterday. One of the ladies,
Mrs. King, took us home with her. This morning I
reported to Mr. Hasard. Where he will now place me
I do not know; there is a blissful uncertainty about
the army. There is one thing I try to remember,—
that we are in the hands of One who knoweth best,

and He will put me where it is best for me to go. If
He sees it is best for me to continue in my work. He
will give me a place, and if He does not, I shall pray to
be willing to do just what He wishes. I am not allowed
to work merely for the soldiers; my own discipline
is going on at the same time, and I must be
willing to accept whatever is really best.