University of Virginia Library

LETTER IX.

Dear Mother,—I have just been to Mr. Hasard
to see if he had any letters for me. I am so longing
for one. I have an idea you may be sick, because I do
not hear. I suppose you have not yet received my
last letters. None of mine could be mailed after I
left Cairo; you living at home, have no idea what it is
to be where war is actually raging around you. Every

thing is stopped or changed, and upset in the most
unforeseen manner. When I went on board the boat,
it was expected that she would continue to make trips
up and down all the time, and I should remain on
board. But the government has the boat under orders
at Vicksburg, no one knows what will be done next.
There are no more sick to be brought to St. Louis at
present. I knew my place at the hospital was filled
up, for the head surgeon only let me off to Mr. Hasard
on condition he would send a good nurse to take my
place. I did not know what I should do on my return;
but Mr. Hasard wishes this. They are organizing
a large hospital just out of town, and the head
doctor has been to Mr. H., to tell him he wants a lady
at the head of the female part of it, as supervisor;
they have pitched on poor little me. I have, as usual,
said I would do just as Mr. Hasard wished. One of
the ladies who was on board the boat invited me to
go to her house on my return; was she not good?
She is Mrs. King, a lovely woman; I am at her house
now. I go to this new hospital as soon as it is ready,
—in a few days, unless Mr. Hasard changes his mind
about me. Every one is friendly to me here, and kind.
Mr. Yeatman carried your last letter down the river,
expecting to meet me there. I shall get it when he
comes home; I am longing for it. Mrs. Chauvenet
called this morning, and was as kind as kind could be;
she said she was anxious to see me, because, as I was
a stranger here she wanted to ask me to come to her
house, but I am at Mrs. King's. I feel I have friends
to go to now. They talk of the taking of Vicksburg;
but, mother, if the talkers could see it! If it stands
a siege instead of capitulating, it is fearful to think
what that siege will be. I have been right in front of
the city where I could see the fortifications and breastworks;
the work of taking it will be awful. I never
realized in the East what a war was. Now, I have
been down to it, I have seen the camps as they are
away from home, I have seen the work the men have
to do, and talked with them, seen how they felt about
it; and there will be no turning back. But I have
also been with the wounded just brought from the
battle,—such wounds as never come home to us at
the East,—and I know at what cost the work is done,
and how nobly, too, that cost is borne, counted as
nothing if we can only win, and guard the old flag
from harm. The cost is great; but in the lives of
nations, like individuals, there come seasons when we
must give up all. Here, side by side with all this noble
stirring is the Secesh spirit contrasting with it at
every turn; here, you really see the struggle between
the two elements.

I went to the Lawson Hospital to see my old patients.
I got a hearty greeting; they were good fellows,
and I thought a great deal about them. The poor
men on the boat, in all their suffering, were so good,
so thoughtful of others: it was very touching. They
were so glad to see women round them. They had
not seen a woman for weeks and weeks. One of the
ladies heard one of the men say to another, as she

went by, "Tom, is it not good to see the women
round?" If those who object to women in hospitals
could only hear the speeches that are made to us, I
think their objections would be answered. As I bent
over them when they were laid on their beds, hard
hands were stretched out to clasp mine, and, "Oh, it
is so good to have a woman come." It is curious,—the
strongest feeling is always for the mother, her name
first and last, usually; and when they were speaking
of what we did for them, the phrase always was, no
matter how old they were, "we had been like mothers
to them."

This new hospital they wish me to go to, is out of
the city, and has much better air, and healthier than
in the city; it is in the country. If I go there I
think I shall like it. But the question of liking has
to be set aside, and that of doing our work where we
are sent, substituted. My life at Fort Schuyler seems
almost play work compared to this; but I liked it
there, the sea air was so delicious.