at Murfreesboro! May God place his everlasting arms underneath you, my dear wounded brothers!' These and like expressions are affixed to various articles of wear."

This contribution is exceedingly valuable, as a revelation of the electric current, that flowed from the women at home to the army at the front. Its inspiration nerved brave arms for deeds of daring, and stimulated sinking hearts to renewed courage and hope.

The clerk's office on the Silver Wave had been fitted up as a sanitary storeroom, with rude shelves and counters extemporized on the most economical scale. Heavy packages were stowed in the hold of the transport, and the storeroom became the place of display and distribution of the sacred sanitary donations. Birds of the air carried the glad tidings to the sufferers, that fresh supplies had come. In groups and single file came the veterans to receive them, all emaciated, wan, and feeble-some with canes or crutches, the weaker pitifully clinging to his comrade, a trifle stronger, for the soldiers shared strength as well as food, with their companions in arms and suffering. I rejoice to say not one was sent empty away; to the honor of those men be it recorded, that not one applied, whose appearance was not a certifi cate for his necessity. I said to the first applicant, "Will you have a few soft crackers?" His only answer was an outstretched hand and tearful eye. "Shall I give you some onions?" "Oh, how I've longed for ten cents, to buy one from the sutler! I craved it" (as scurvy men always do). To another, I said, "Perhaps you would like a lemon?" "A lemon! bless me! Just let me look at and smell one. It makes me stronger to think of it." What of some cookies

or gingerbread!

SOLDIER TO TRADE COFFEE.

209

These home-made luxuries were always received with glistening eyes, and were invariably just like wife's or mother's.

One poor fellow, who was obliged to seize both railings to support himself up the narrow stair-way, opened his battered haversack and drew out a small package of coffee. "I know you don't sell anything here, but I thought if I could change this coffee, that I've saved from my rations, for some green tea, I'd get an appetite. If I could only get a cup of tea like mother made, I believe I should get well." I motioned back the parcel, and gave him a little package, containing white sugar and a lemon, green tea, two herrings, two onions, and pepper-a powerful remedy for scurvy. He looked at it a moment and said: "Is this all for me?" and then covered his pinched face with his thin, transparent hands, to conceal the tears.

I touched his shoulder, and said: "Why do you weep? "God bless the women; what should we do but for them?" was his answer. "I came from father's farm, where all had plenty. I've lain sick these three months. I've seen no woman's face, nor heard her voice, nor felt her warm hand, till to-day, and it unmans me. But don't think I rae my bargain, for I don't. I've suffered much and long, but I don't let them know at home. Maybe I'll never have a chance to tell them how much, but I'd go through it all for the old flag." "Who knows," I said, "but the very luxuries I've given you have been sent from the aid society to which your mother belongs." "I shouldn't wonder," he replied, "for she writes me she never lets anything keep her away from the meetings. I'm glad of it, for I don't know

what would become of us poor fellows but for the Sanitary Commission." He gave his good-by, God bless you, and said: "I believe I've turned the corner. I haven't felt as strong for months as I do now." With the help of one railing he descended the stairs, and called out from below, "Farewell!"

It may be asked, did the men receive all they needed? I answer no; it was not there to give them. The pretended or misguided friends of the soldier, lessened supplies by infusing suspicion. I have seen the work of the U. S. Commission in scores of western hospitals and in the field. I have accompanied it in its labor of love, as it has followed the destroying angel, binding up mangled limbs, clothing emaciated forms, pillowing aching heads, giving nourishment to exhausted bodies, and snatching from death husbands sons and brothers.

Where one has testified against it, thousands have blessed it, and raised up their voices and pens in its behalf. But for some clamor, the Sanitary Commission would have lacked one evidence of heavenly approval. "Woe be unto you when all men speak well of you." It imitated the blessed Master in His mission, and shared in His reproach.

In this connection, I would relate an incident, to illustrate the value of a small amount of relief given by the Sanitary Commission. On my return voyage from Young's Point, a surgeon introduced himself, and thanked me for saving his life. Amused at my surprise, he thus explained it. He had been afflicted with chronic disease, that threatened his life and defied medicine. He heard I had dried black berries, and sent to me for them, I gave his messenger my last cup

THE DRUMMER-BOY ON SILVER WAVE.

211

full. (I dealt them out carefully). This simple remedy arrested his disease, and fitted him to travel homeward, where proper care and good nursing would complete the

cure.

On the Silver Wave, I became acquainted with a noblelooking boy, fourteen years of age, who was detailed to assist the clerk in filling requisitions. He was so neat, orderly, quie and diligent, that he was a universal favorite. He fol lowed me closely, and seemed to cling to me as a mother. He was a drummer-boy, and had left home with the consent of his mother. I noticed him in the evening, reading his Testament and hymn-book, and had much interesting conversation with him. On one occasion he said, "Would you. like to see my mother's parting note, to be always carried about me, she said, so that if I fell in battle, my name might. be known?" On a delicate sheet of paper the following note was written, in an exquisite chirography:

"Arthur W. C, Musician,

"A

Со., Оно.

Regiment.

"Should my precious child fall wounded among strangers, I hope and trust he will find some kind person to love him for his mother.

"MARY W. C—

October 21st, 1862."

I said, "Arthur, tell your mother, though you have not fallen wounded, you have found a friend to love you for your mother." "I will," he said, carefully folding his note, as tears filled his fine dark eyes; "no money could buy it from me." William and his mother will pardon me for the mention of this fact, honorable alike to both.

CHAPTER XIII.

February 22 at Young's Point.-Naval salute.-Southern sun and rain.-Gunboat fleet.-Capt. MacMillan of Silver Wave.-Midnight scare. Visit to Admiral Porter and flag-ship.-Rebel boy-gunner. -Army pets. Visit to naval hospital.-Naval regatta.-Southern

sunset.

A LETTER of my own, dated Young's Point, February 22, 1863, recalls a host of thrilling memories, of one of the most eventful days of a three years' war-life. When it dawned, I had been a week at Young's Point, enduring the trying scenes and discomforts of a thorough visitation of the hospitals, after days and nights of rain, that knew neither hindrance nor abatement, but fell continuously in solid sheets, as though the windows of heaven were opened, and all nature muttering and moaning in dismay or discontent.

As if to avenge himself for the veiled glories of these latter days, "up rose the powerful king of day, rejoicing in the east," bathing the earth, transports and camps, in a flood of glory. Even the audacious rebel city, ensconced on the hill-side, saucily daring our veterans, looked radiant. Every dome, steeple or window, reflected or refracted the sun's rays, and shed a fictitious and prismatic beauty over the battered and clumsy brick walls of the south-western strong