University of Virginia Library

LETTER XXVIII.

Dear Mother,—I posted a letter for you yesterday,
telling you about our Fourth. It does not seem to
have hurt anybody here. Mr. Burnell, the army missionary,
who was on the boat when I went to Vicksburg,
came to see me this morning. While talking with me
he took up a copy of Mr. Silver's tract; he looked at
it, and asked me if there were many of them printed.
I told him that was the last I had, and gave it to him.
He knew before that I was a Swedenborgian. Now
can you send me out a number of these tracts, and a
number of the short New Church tracts or little pamphlets?
There need not be a great variety, but many
of each kind, if you can. You have no idea how much
we can do for the Church in these times. Men's
minds are opened as they never were before; you
would have to be among them to realize it fully. I am
summoned to one of the wards, and must stop for the
present.

July 6th.—Twenty years ago to-night I broke my
ankle. What a poor little sufferer I was then! Time
flies, does it not? I went over to the wards yesterday,

in the midst of my letter. One of my nurses was sick,
and sent for me. "Oh!" said she, "I thought I
should die if you were not at home to come to me."
I worked over her till she felt better; then travelled
on my rounds, got through the afternoon course, and
then went up to Mr. Yeatman's in the ambulance with
the doctor. We both wanted to see him on business;
I about my nurses, and it was pleasanter going then
than in the heat of the day. We were asked to stay
to tea, but could not, for the doctor had business to
attend to, and I had to make an evening visit to very
sick men. So we drove home as fast as we could, and
I started out with my lantern, like Diogenes or Guy
Fawkes, whichever you like. As usual, a little to attend
to here and there. I wish I was wiser and better.
To-day I was talking to one of the men, and I told
him one of the uses of sickness was to make us think
about the Lord and religion. He told me he thought
so, that he had never thought much about such matters
till he was sick, and now he thought of them. I
talked to him about it then,—how little real matter
it was if the body suffered, if we had spiritual health
and the peace of God,—and this very sickness brought
him nearer to that than he could have been without it.
He agreed to it all, and seemed glad to talk about
it. When all outward help fails, they want something
more, and they find they cannot stand alone.

Evening.—I have just come in from my night
rounds. The night is a little cooler, and the men
feel better for it. I have been round looking at the

sickest men, seeing that they have what they need. I
get so many kindly hand-grasps as I go my rounds.
One poor sick boy does not like it, if I do not speak to
him every time I go round.

July 7.—I have finished my morning rounds, and
have a few minutes: do you want them? I should
like a good New England east-wind; it would be perfectly
refreshing, the air is so sultry to-day. I do not
think the heat here so hard to bear as it is with you;
it is not such a dry heat, not so burning, but neither
is it so healthy. I get along very well, and drink as
much water as I want. I suppose I have got through
my acclimatizing process; I hope I have. The men
seem mending: we are ready for more.
Afternoon.—There is immense excitement,—news
that Vicksburg is taken! One of the principal streets
of St. Louis is lined with flags. We shall have sick
and wounded enough now.