Woman's Work in the Civil War: A Record of Heroism, Patriotism, and Patience

MARGARET E. BRECKINRIDGE.

true heroine of the war was Margaret Elizabeth Breckinridge. Patient, courageous, self-forgetting, steady of purpose and cheerful in spirit, she belonged by nature to the heroic order, while all the circumstances of her early life tended to mature and prepare her for her destined work. Had her lot been cast in the dark days of religious intolerance and persecution, her steadfast enthusiasm and holy zeal would have earned for her a martyr's cross and crown; but, born in this glorious nineteenth century, and reared in an atmosphere of liberal thought and active humanity, the first spark of patriotism that flashed across the startled North at the outbreak of the rebellion, set all her soul aglow, and made it henceforth an altar of living sacrifice, a burning and a shining light, to the end of her days. Dearer to her gentle spirit than any martyr's crown, must have been the consciousness that this God-given light had proved a guiding beacon to many a faltering soul feeling its way into the dim beyond, out of the drear loneliness of camp or hospital. With her slight form, her bright face, and her musical voice, she seemed a ministering angel to the sick and suffering soldiers, while her sweet womanly purity and her tender devotion to their wants made her almost an object of worship among them. "Ain't she an angel?" said a gray-headed soldier as he watched her one morning as she was busy getting breakfast for the boys on the steamer "City of Alton." "She never seems to tire, she is always smiling, and don't seem to walk—she flies, all but—God bless her!" Another, a soldier boy of seventeen said to her, as she was smoothing his hair and saying cheering words about mother and home to him, "Ma'am, where do you come from? How could such a lady as you are come down here, to take care of us poor, sick, dirty boys?" She answered—"I consider it an honor to wait on you, and wash off the mud you've waded through for me."

Another asked this favor of her, "Lady, please write down your name, and let me look at it, and take it home, to show my wife who wrote my letters, and combed my hair and fed me. I don't believe you're like other people." In one of her letters she says, "I am often touched with their anxiety not to give trouble, not to bother, as they say. That same evening I found a poor, exhausted fellow, lying on a stretcher, on which he had just been brought in. There was no bed for him just then, and he was to remain there for the present, and looked uncomfortable enough, with his knapsack for a pillow. 'I know some hot tea will do you good,' I said. 'Yes, ma'am,' he answered, 'but I am too weak to sit up with nothing to lean against; it's no matter,—don't bother about me,' but his eyes were fixed longingly on the smoking tea. Everybody was busy, not even a nurse in sight, but the poor man must have his tea. I pushed away the knapsack, raised his head, and seated myself on the end of the stretcher; and, as I drew his poor tired head back upon my shoulder and half held him, he seemed, with all his pleasure and eager enjoyment of the tea, to be troubled at my being so bothered with him. He forgot I had come so many hundred miles on purpose to be bothered."

One can hardly read this simple unaffected statement of hers, without instinctively recalling the touching story told of a soldier in one of the hospitals of the Crimea who, when Florence Nightingale had passed, turned and kissed the place upon his pillow where her shadow fell. The sweet name of the fair English nurse might well be claimed by many of our American heroines, but, when we think of Margaret's pure voice, singing hymns with the soldiers on the hospital-boat, filling the desolate woods along the Mississippi shores with solemn music in the still night, we feel that it belongs especially to her and that we may call her, without offense to the others, our Florence Nightingale.

Her great power of adaptation served her well in her chosen vocation. Unmindful of herself, and always considerate of others, she could suit herself to the need of the moment and was equally at home in making tea and toast for the hungry, dressing ghastly wounds for the sufferers, and in singing hymns and talking of spiritual things with the sick and dying.

She found indeed her true vocation. She saw her way and walked fearlessly in it; she knew her work and did it with all her heart and soul. When she first began to visit the hospitals in and around St. Louis, she wrote "I shall never be satisfied till I get right into a hospital, to live till the war is over. If you are constantly with the men, you have hundreds of opportunities and moments of influence in which you can gain their attention and their hearts, and do more good than in any missionary field." Once, on board a steamer near Vicksburg, during the fearful winter siege of that city, some one said to her, "You must hold back, you are going beyond your strength, you will die if you are not more prudent!" "Well," said she, with thrilling earnestness, "what if I do? Shall men come here by tens of thousands and fight, and suffer, and die, and shall not some women be willing to die to sustain and succor them?" No wonder that such sincerity won all hearts and carried all before it! Alas! the brave spirit was stronger than the frail casket that encased it, and that yielded inevitably to the heavy demands that were made upon it.

A rare and consistent life was hers, a worthy and heroic death. Let us stop a moment to admire the truth and beauty of the one, and to do reverence to the deep devotion of the other. The following sketch is gathered from the pages of a "Memorial" published by her friends shortly after her death, which occurred at Niagara Falls, July 27th, 1864.

"Margaret Elizabeth Breckinridge was born in Philadelphia, March 24th, 1832. Her paternal grandfather was John Breckinridge, of Kentucky, once Attorney-General of the United States. Her father, the Rev. John Breckinridge, D. D., was his second son, a man of talent and influence, from whom Margaret inherited good gifts of mind and heart, and an honored name. Her mother, who was the daughter of Rev. Samuel Miller, of Princeton, N. J., died when Margaret was only six years old, at which time she and her sister Mary went to live with their grandparents at Princeton. Their father dying three years afterwards, the home of the grandparents became their permanent abode. They had one brother, now Judge Breckinridge of St. Louis. Margaret's school-days were pleasantly passed, for she had a genuine love of study, an active intellect, and a very retentive memory. When her school education was over, she still continued her studies, and never gave up her prescribed course until the great work came upon her which absorbed all her time and powers. In the year 1852 her sister married Mr. Peter A. Porter of Niagara Falls, a gentleman of culture and accomplishments, a noble man, a true patriot. At his house the resort of literary and scientific men, the shelter of the poor and friendless, the centre of sweet social life and domestic peace, Margaret found for a time a happy home.

"Between her and her sister, Mrs. Porter, there was genuine sisterly love, a fine intellectual sympathy, and a deep and tender affection. The first great trial of Miss Breckinridge's life was the death of this beloved sister which occurred in 1854, only two years after her marriage. She died of cholera, after an illness of only a few hours. Margaret had left her but a few days before, in perfect health. The shock was so terrible that for many years she could not speak her sister's name without deep emotion; but she was too brave and too truly religious to allow this blow, dreadful as it was, to impair her usefulness or unfit her for her destined work. Her religion was eminently practical and energetic. She was a constant and faithful Sunday-school teacher, and devoted her attention especially to the colored people in whom she had a deep interest. She had become by inheritance the owner of several slaves in Kentucky, who were a source of great anxiety to her, and the will of her father, though carefully designed to secure their freedom, had become so entangled with state laws, subsequently made, as to prevent her, during her life, from carrying out what was his wish as well as her own. By her will she directed that they should be freed as soon as possible, and something given them to provide against the first uncertainties of self-support."

So the beginning of the war found Margaret ripe and ready for her noble womanly work; trained to self-reliance, accustomed to using her powers in the service of others, tender, brave, and enthusiastic, chastened by a life-long sorrow, she longed to devote herself to her country, and to do all in her power to help on its noble defenders. During the first year of the struggle duty constrained her to remain at home, but heart and hands worked bravely all the time, and even her ready pen was pressed into the service.

But Margaret could not be satisfied to remain with the Home-Guards. She must be close to the scene of action and in the foremost ranks. She determined to become a hospital-nurse. Her anxious friends combated her resolution in vain; they felt that her slender frame and excitable temperament could not bear the stress and strain of hospital work, but she had set her mark and must press onward let life or death be the issue. In April, 1862, Miss Breckinridge set out for the West, stopping a few weeks at Baltimore on her way. Then she commenced her hospital service; then, too, she contracted measles, and, by the time she reached Lexington, Kentucky, her destination, she was quite ill; but the delay was only temporary, and soon she was again absorbed in her work. A guerrilla raid, under John Morgan, brought her face to face with the realities of war, and soon after, early in September she found herself in a beleaguered city, actually in the grasp of the Rebels, Kirby Smith holding possession of Lexington and its neighborhood for about six weeks. It is quite evident that Miss Breckinridge improved this occasion to air her loyal sentiments and give such help and courage to Unionists as lay in her power. In a letter written just after this invasion she says, "At that very time, a train of ambulances, bringing our sick and wounded from Richmond, was leaving town on its way to Cincinnati. It was a sight to stir every loyal heart; and so the Union people thronged round them to cheer them up with pleasant, hopeful words, to bid them God speed, and last, but not least, to fill their haversacks and canteens. We went, thinking it possible we might be ordered off by the guard, but they only stood off, scowling and wondering.

"'Good-by,' said the poor fellows from the ambulances, 'we're coming back as soon as ever we get well.'

"'Yes, yes,' we whispered, for there were spies all around us, 'and every one of you bring a regiment with you.'"

As soon as these alarms were over, and Kentucky freed from rebel invaders, Miss Breckinridge went on to St. Louis, to spend the winter with her brother. As soon as she arrived, she began to visit the hospitals of the city and its neighborhood, but her chief work, and that from the effects of which she never recovered, was the service she undertook upon the hospital boats, which were sent down the Mississippi to bring up the sick and wounded from the posts below. She made two excursions of this kind, full of intense experiences, both of pleasure and pain. These boats went down the river empty unless they chanced to carry companies of soldiers to rejoin their regiments, but they returned crowded with the sick and dying, emaciated, fever-stricken men, sadly in need of tender nursing but with scarcely a single comfort at command. Several of the nurses broke down under this arduous and difficult service, but Margaret congratulated herself that she had held out to the end. These expeditions were not without danger as well as privation. One of her letters records a narrow escape. "To give you an idea of the audacity of these guerrillas; while we lay at Memphis that afternoon, in broad daylight, a party of six, dressed in our uniform, went on board a government boat, lying just across the river, and asked to be taken as passengers six miles up the river, which was granted; but they had no sooner left the shore than they drew their pistols, overpowered the crew, and made them go up eighteen miles to meet another government boat coming down loaded with stores, tied the boats together and burned them, setting the crew of each adrift in their own yawl, and nobody knew it till they reached Memphis, two hours later. Being able to hear nothing of the wounded, we pushed on to Helena, ninety miles below, and here dangers thickened. We saw the guerrillas burning cotton, with our own eyes, along the shore, we saw their little skiffs hid away among the bushes on the shore; and just before we got to Helena, had a most narrow escape from their clutches. A signal to land on the river was in ordinary times never disregarded, as the way business of freight and passengers was the chief profit often of the trip, and it seems hard for pilots and captains always to be on their guard against a decoy. At this landing the signal was given, all as it should be, and we were just rounding to, when, with a sudden jerk, the boat swung round into the stream again. The mistake was discovered in time, by a government officer on board, and we escaped an ambush. Just think! we might have been prisoners in Mississippi now, but God meant better things for us than that."

Her tender heart was moved by the sufferings of the wretched colored people at Helena. She says, "But oh! the contrabands! my heart did ache for them. Such wretched, uncared-for, sad-looking creatures I never saw. They come in such swarms that it is impossible to do anything for them, unless benevolent people take the thing into their hands. They have a little settlement in one end of the town, and the government furnishes them rations, but they cannot all get work, even if they were all able and willing to do it; then they get sick from exposure, and now the small pox is making terrible havoc among them. They have a hospital of their own, and one of our Union Aid ladies has gone down to superintend it, and get it into some order, but it seems as if there was nothing before them but suffering for many a long day to come, and that sad, sad truth came back to me so often as I went about among them, that no people ever gained their freedom without a baptism of fire."

Miss Breckinridge returned to St. Louis on a small hospital-boat on which there were one hundred and sixty patients in care of herself and one other lady. A few extracts from one of her letters will show what brave work it gave her to do.

"It was on Sunday morning, 25th of January, that Mrs. C. and I went on board the hospital boat which had received its sad freight the day before, and was to leave at once for St. Louis, and it would be impossible to describe the scene which presented itself to me as I stood in the door of the cabin. Lying on the floor, with nothing under them but a tarpaulin and their blankets, were crowded fifty men, many of them with death written on their faces; and looking through the half-open doors of the state-rooms, we saw that they contained as many more. Young, boyish faces, old and thin from suffering, great restless eyes that were fixed on nothing, incoherent ravings of those who were wild with fever, and hollow coughs on every side—this, and much more that I do not want to recall, was our welcome to our new work; but, as we passed between the two long rows, back to our own cabin, pleasant smiles came to the lips of some, others looked after us wonderingly, and one poor boy whispered, 'Oh, but it is good to see the ladies come in!' I took one long look into Mrs. C's eyes to see how much strength and courage was hidden in them. We asked each other, not in words, but in those fine electric thrills by which one soul questions another, 'Can we bring strength, and hope, and comfort to these poor suffering men?' and the answer was, 'Yes, by God's help we will!' The first thing was to give them something like a comfortable bed, and, Sunday though it was, we went to work to run up our sheets into bed-sacks. Every man that had strength enough to stagger was pressed into the service, and by night most of them had something softer than a tarpaulin to sleep on. 'Oh, I am so comfortable now!' some of them said; 'I think I can sleep to-night,' exclaimed one little fellow, half-laughing with pleasure. The next thing was to provide something that sick people could eat, for coffee and bread was poor food for most of them. We had two little stoves, one in the cabin and one in the chambermaid's room, and here, the whole time we were on board, we had to do the cooking for a hundred men. Twenty times that day I fully made up my mind to cry with vexation, and twenty times that day I laughed instead; and surely, a kettle of tea was never made under so many difficulties as the one I made that morning. The kettle lid was not to be found, the water simmered and sang at its leisure, and when I asked for the poker I could get nothing but an old bayonet, and, all the time, through the half-open door behind me, I heard the poor hungry fellows asking the nurses, 'Where is that tea the lady promised me?' or 'When will my toast come?' But there must be an end to all things, and when I carried them their tea and toast, and heard them pronounce it 'plaguey good,' and 'awful nice,' it was more than a recompense for all the worry.

"One great trouble was the intense cold. We could not keep life in some of the poor emaciated frames. 'Oh dear! I shall freeze to death!' one poor little fellow groaned, as I passed him. Blankets seemed to have no effect upon them, and at last we had to keep canteens filled with boiling water at their feet." * * *

"There was one poor boy about whom from the first I had been very anxious. He drooped and faded from day to day before my eyes. Nothing but constant stimulants seemed to keep him alive, and, at last I summoned courage to tell him—oh, how hard it was!—that he could not live many hours. 'Are you willing to die?' I asked him. He closed his eyes, and was silent a moment; then came that passionate exclamation which I have heard so often, 'My mother, oh! my mother!' and, to the last, though I believe God gave him strength to trust in Christ, and willingness to die, he longed for his mother. I had to leave him, and, not long after, he sent for me to come, that he was dying, and wanted me to sing to him. He prayed for himself in the most touching words; he confessed that he had been a wicked boy, and then with one last message for that dear mother, turned his face to the pillow and died; and so, one by one, we saw them pass away, and all the little keepsakes and treasures they had loved and kept about them, laid away to be sent home to those they should never see again. Oh, it was heart-breaking to see that!"

After the "sad freight" had reached its destination, and the care and responsibility are over, true woman that she is, she breaks down and cries over it all, but brightens up, and looking back upon it declares: "I certainly never had so much comfort and satisfaction in anything in all my life, and the tearful thanks of those who thought in their gratitude that they owed a great deal more to us than they did, the blessings breathed from dying lips, and the comfort it has been to friends at home to hear all about the last sad hours of those they love, and know their dying messages of love to them; all this is a rich, and full, and overflowing reward for any labor and for any sacrifice." Again she says: "There is a soldier's song of which they are very fond, one verse of which often comes back to me:

Indeed it does,—richly, abundantly, blessedly, and I thank God that he has honored me by letting me do a little and suffer a little for this grand old Union, and the dear, brave fellows who are fighting for it."

Early in March she returned to St. Louis, expecting to make another trip down the river, but her work was nearly over, and the seeds of disease sown in her winter's campaign were already overmastering her delicate constitution. She determined to go eastward for rest and recovery, intending to return in the autumn and fix herself in one of the Western hospitals, where she could devote herself to her beloved work while the war lasted. At this time she writes to her Eastern friends: "I shall soon turn my face eastward, and I have more and more to do as my time here grows shorter. I have been at the hospital every day this week, and at the Government rooms, where we prepare the Government work for the poor women, four hundred of whom we supply with work every week. I have also a family of refugees to look after, so I do not lack employment."

Early in June, Miss Breckinridge reached Niagara on her way to the East, where she remained for a month. For a year she struggled against disease and weakness, longing all the time to be at work again, making vain plans for the time when she should be "well and strong, and able to go back to the hospitals." With this cherished scheme in view she went in the early part of May, 1864, into the Episcopal Hospital in Philadelphia, that she might acquire experience in nursing, especially in surgical cases, so that in the autumn, she could begin her labor of love among the soldiers more efficiently and confidently than before. She went to work with her usual energy and promptness, following the surgical nurse every day through the wards, learning the best methods of bandaging and treating the various wounds. She was not satisfied with merely seeing this done, but often washed and dressed the wounds with her own hands, saying, "I shall be able to do this for the soldiers when I get back to the army." The patients could not understand this, and would often expostulate, saying, "Oh no, Miss, that is not for the like of you to do!" but she would playfully insist and have her way. Nor was she satisfied to gain so much without giving something in return. She went from bed to bed, encouraging the despondent, cheering the weak and miserable, reading to them from her little Testament, and singing sweet hymns at twilight,—a ministering angel here as well as on the hospital-boats on the Mississippi.

On the 2d of June she had an attack of erysipelas, which however was not considered alarming, and under which she was patient and cheerful.

Then came news of the fighting before Richmond and of the probability that her brother-in-law, Colonel Porter,[E] had fallen. Her friends concealed it from her until the probability became a sad certainty, and then they were obliged to reveal it to her. The blow fell upon her with overwhelming force. One wild cry of agony, one hour of unmitigated sorrow, and then she sweetly and submissively bowed herself to the will of her Heavenly Father, and was still; but the shock was too great for the wearied body and the bereaved heart. Gathering up her small remnant of strength and courage she went to Baltimore to join the afflicted family of Colonel Porter, saying characteristically, "I can do more good with them than anywhere else just now." After a week's rest in Baltimore she proceeded with them to Niagara, bearing the journey apparently well, but the night after her arrival she became alarmingly ill, and it was soon evident that she could not recover from her extreme exhaustion and prostration. For five weeks her life hung trembling in the balance, and then the silver cord was loosed and she went to join her dear ones gone before.

"Underneath are the everlasting arms," she said to a friend who bent anxiously over her during her sickness. Yes, "the everlasting arms" upheld her in all her courageous heroic earthly work; they cradle her spirit now in eternal rest.

MRS. STEPHEN BARKER

During her stay in Washington, she spent much of her time in visiting hospitals, and in ministering to their suffering inmates. Especially was this the case with the E. Street Infirmary, which was destroyed by fire in the autumn of that year. After the fire the inmates were distributed to other hospitals, except a few whose wounds would not admit of a removal. These were collected together in a small brick school-house, which stands on the corner of the lot now occupied by the Judiciary Square Hospital, and there was had the first Thanksgiving Dinner which was given in an army hospital.

After dinner, which was made as nice and home-like as possible, they played games of checkers, chess, and backgammon on some new boards presented from the supplies of the Sanitary Commission, and Mrs. Barker read aloud "The Cricket on the Hearth." This occupied all the afternoon and made the day seem so short to these poor convalescents that they all confessed afterwards that they had no idea, nor expectation that they could so enjoy a day which they had hoped to spend at home; and they always remembered and spoke of it with pleasure.

This was a new and entirely exceptional experience to Mrs. Barker. Like all the ladies who have gone out as volunteer nurses or helps in the hospitals, she had her whole duty to learn. In this she was aided by a sound judgment, and an evident natural capacity and executive ability. Without rules or instructions in hospital visiting, she had to learn by experience the best methods of aiding sick soldiers without coming into conflict with the regulations peculiar to military hospitals. Of course, no useful work could be accomplished without the sanction and confidence of the surgeons, and these could only be won by strict and honorable obedience to orders.

The first duty was to learn what Government supplies could properly be expected in the hospitals; next to be sure that where wanting they were not withheld by the ignorance or carelessness of the sub-officials; and lastly that the soldier was sincere and reliable in the statement of his wants. By degrees these questions received their natural solution; and the large discretionary power granted by the surgeons, and the generous confidence and aid extended by the Sanitary Commission, in furnishing whatever supplies she asked for, soon gave Mrs. Barker all the facilities she desired for her useful and engrossing work.

In March, 1862, Mrs. Barker removed to Fort Albany, and systematically commenced the work which had first induced her to leave her home. This work was substantially the same that she had done in Washington, but was confined to the Regimental Hospitals. But it was for many reasons pleasanter and more interesting. As the wife of the Chaplain of the Regiment, the men all recognized the fitness of her position, and she shared with him all the duties, not strictly clerical, of his office, finding great happiness in their mutual usefulness and sustaining power. She also saw the same men oftener, and became better acquainted, and more deeply interested in their individual conditions, and she had here facilities at her command for the preparation of all the little luxuries and delicacies demanded by special cases.

While the regiment held Fort Albany, and others of the forts forming the defenses of Washington, the officers' quarters were always such as to furnish a comfortable home, and Mrs. Barker had, consequently, none of the exposures and hardships of those who followed the army and labored in the field. As she, herself, has written in a private letter—"It was no sacrifice to go to the army, because my husband was in it, and it would have been much harder to stay at home than to go with him. * * * I cannot even claim the merit of acting from a sense of duty—for I wanted to work for the soldiers, and should have been desperately disappointed had I been prevented from doing it."

And so, with a high heart, and an unselfish spirit, which disclaimed all merit in sacrifice, and even the existence of the sacrifice, she entered upon and fulfilled to the end the arduous and painful duties which devolved upon her.

For nearly two years she continued in unremitting attendance upon the regimental hospitals, except when briefly called home to the sick and dying bed of her father.

All this time her dependence for hospital comforts was upon the Sanitary Commission, for though the regiment was performing the duties of a garrison it was not so considered by the War Department, and the hospital received none of the furnishings it would have been entitled to as a Post Hospital. Most of the hospital bedding and clothing, as well as delicacies of diet came from the Sanitary Commission, and a little money contributed from private sources helped to procure the needed furniture. Mrs. Barker found this "camp life" absorbing and interesting. She became identified with the regiment and was accustomed to speak of it as a part of herself. And even more closely and intimately did she identify herself with her suffering patients in the hospital.

On Sundays, while the chaplain was about his regular duties, she was accustomed to have a little service of her own for the patients, which mostly consisted in reading aloud a printed sermon of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, which appeared in the Weekly Traveller, and which was always listened to with eager interest.

The chaplain's quarters were close by the hospital, and at any hour of the day and till a late hour of the night Mr. and Mrs. Barker could assure themselves of the condition and wants of any of the patients, and be instantly ready to minister to them. Mrs. Barker, especially, bore them continually in her thoughts, and though not with them, her heart and time were given to the work of consolation, either by adding to the comforts of the body or the mind.

In January, 1864, it became evident to Mrs. Barker that she could serve in the hospitals more effectually by living in Washington, than by remaining at Fort Albany. She therefore offered her services to the Sanitary Commission without other compensation than the expenses of her board, and making no stipulation as to the nature of her duties, but only that she might remain within reach of the regimental hospital, to which she had so long been devoted.

Just at this time the Commission had determined to secure a more sure and thorough personal distribution of the articles intended for soldiers, and she was requested to become a visitor in certain hospitals in Washington. It was desirable to visit bed-sides, as before, but henceforth as a representative of the Sanitary Commission, with a wider range of duties, and a proportionate increase of facilities. Soldiers were complaining that they saw nothing of the Sanitary Commission, when the shirts they wore, the fruits they ate, the stationery they used, and numerous other comforts from the Commission abounded in the hospitals. Mrs. Barker found that she had only to refuse the thanks which she constantly received, and refer them to the proper object, to see a marked change in the feeling of the sick toward the Sanitary Commission. And she was so fully convinced of the beneficial results of this remarkable organization, that she found the greatest pleasure in doing this.

In all other respects her work was unchanged. There was the same need of cheering influences—the writing of letters and procuring of books, and obtaining of information. There were the thousand varied calls for sympathy and care which kept one constantly on the keenest strain of active life, so that she came to feel that no gift, grace, or accomplishment could be spared without leaving something wanting of a perfect woman's work in the hospitals.

Nine hospitals, in addition to the regimental hospital, which she still thought of as her "own," were assigned her. Of these Harewood contained nearly as many patients as all the others. During the summer of 1864, its wards and tents held twenty-eight hundred patients. It was Mrs. Barker's custom to commence here every Monday morning at the First Ward, doing all she saw needful as she went along, and to go on as far as she could before two o'clock, when she went to dinner. In the afternoon she would visit one of the smaller hospitals, all of whose inmates she could see in the course of one visit, and devote the whole afternoon entirely to that hospital.

The next morning she would begin again at Harewood, where she stopped the day before, doing all she could there, previous to two o'clock, and devoting the afternoon to a smaller hospital. When Harewood was finished, two hospitals might be visited in a day, and in this manner she would complete the entire round weekly.

It was not necessary to speak to every man, for on being recognized as a Sanitary Visitor the men would tell her their wants, and her eye was sufficiently practiced to discern where undue shyness prevented any from speaking of them. An assistant always went with her, who drove the horses, and who, by his knowledge of German, was a great help in understanding the foreign soldiers. They carried a variety of common articles with them, so that the larger proportion of the wants could be supplied on the spot. In this way a constant distribution was going on, in all the hospitals of Washington, whereby the soldiers received what was sent for them with certainty and promptness.

In the meantime the First Heavy Artillery had been ordered to join the army before Petersburg. On the fourth day after it left the forts round Washington, it lost two hundred men killed, wounded and taken prisoners. As soon as the sick or wounded men began to be sent back to Washington, Mrs. Barker was notified of it by her husband, and sought them out to make them the objects of her special care.

At the same time the soldiers of this regiment, in the field, were constantly confiding money and mementoes to Mr. Barker, to be sent to Mrs. Barker by returning Sanitary Agents, and forwarded by her to their families in New England. Often she gave up the entire day to the preparation of these little packages for the express, and to the writing of letters to each person who was to receive a package, containing messages, and a request for a reply when the money was received. Large as this business was, she never entrusted it to any hands but her own, and though she sent over two thousand dollars in small sums, and numerous mementoes, she never lost an article of all that were transmitted by express.

But whatever she had on hand, it was, at this time, an especial duty to attend to any person who desired a more thorough understanding of the work of hospitals; and many days were thus spent with strangers who had no other means of access to the information they desired, except through one whose time could be given to such purposes.

These somewhat minute details of Mrs. Barker's labors are given as being peculiar to the department of service in which she worked, and to which she so conscientiously devoted herself for such a length of time.

In this way she toiled on until December, 1864, when a request was made by the Women's Central Association that a hospital visitor might be sent to the Soldiers' Aid Societies in the State of New York. Few of these had ever seen a person actually engaged in hospital work, and it was thought advisable to assure them that their labors were not only needed, but that their results really reached and benefited the sick soldiers.

Mrs. Barker was chosen as this representative, and the programme included the services of Mr. Barker, whose regiment was now mustered out of service, as a lecturer before general audiences, while Mrs. Barker met the Aid Societies in the same places. During the month of December, 1864, Mr. and Mrs. Barker, in pursuance of this plan, visited Harlem, Brooklyn, Astoria, Hastings, Irvington, Rhinebeck, Albany, Troy, Rome, Syracuse, Auburn, and Buffalo, presenting the needs of the soldier, and the benefits of the work of the Sanitary Commission to the people generally, and to the societies in particular, with great acceptance, and to the ultimate benefit of the cause. This tour accomplished, Mrs. Barker returned to her hospital work in Washington.

After the surrender of Lee's army, Mrs. Barker visited Richmond and Petersburg, and as she walked the deserted streets of those fallen cities, she felt that her work was nearly done. Almost four years, in storm and in sunshine, in heat and in cold, in hope and in discouragement she had ceaselessly toiled on; and all along her path were strewed the blessings of thousands of grateful hearts.

The increasing heats of summer warned her that she could not withstand the influences of another season of hard work in a warm climate, and on the day of the assassination of President Lincoln, she left Washington for Boston.

Mrs. Barker had been at home about six weeks when a new call for effort came, on the return of the Army of the Potomac encamped around Washington previous to its final march for home. To it was presently added the Veterans of Sherman's grand march, and all were in a state of destitution. The following extract from the Report of the Field Relief Service of the United States Sanitary Commission with the Armies of the Potomac, Georgia, and Tennessee, in the Department of Washington, May and June, 1865, gives a much better idea of the work required than could otherwise be presented.

"Armies, the aggregate strength of which must have exceeded two hundred thousand men, were rapidly assembling around this city, previous, to the grand review and their disbandment. These men were the travel-worn veterans of Sherman, and the battle-stained heroes of the glorious old Army of the Potomac, men of whom the nation is already proud, and whom history will teach our children to venerate. Alas! that veterans require more than 'field rations;' that heroes will wear out or throw away their clothes, or become diseased with scurvy or chronic diarrhœa.

"The Army of the West had marched almost two thousand miles, subsisting from Atlanta to the ocean almost wholly upon the country through which it passed. When it entered the destitute regions of North Carolina and Virginia it became affected with scorbutic diseases. A return to the ordinary marching rations gave the men plenty to eat, but no vegetables. Nor had foraging put them in a condition to bear renewed privation.

"The Commissary Department issued vegetables in such small quantities that they did not affect the condition of the troops in any appreciable degree. Surgeons immediately sought the Sanitary Commission. The demand soon became greater than the supply. At first they wanted nothing but vegetables, for having these, they said, all other discomforts would become as nothing.

"After we had secured an organization through the return of agents and the arrival of transportation, a division of labor was made, resulting ultimately in three departments, more or less distinct. These were:

"First, the supply of vegetables;

"Second, the depots for hospital and miscellaneous supplies; and,

"Third, the visitation of troops for the purpose of direct distribution of small articles of necessity or comfort."

These men, war-worn—and many of them sick—veterans, were without money, often in rags, or destitute of needful clothing, and they were not to be paid until they were mustered out of the service in their respective States. Generous, thorough and rapid distribution was desirable, and all the regular hospital visitors, as well as others temporarily employed in the work, entered upon the duties of field distribution. In twenty days, such was the system and expedition used, every regiment, and all men on detached duty, had been visited and supplied with necessaries on their camping grounds; and frequent expressions of gratitude from officers and men, attested that a great work had been successfully accomplished.

This was the conclusion of Mrs. Barker's army work, and what it was, how thorough, kind, and every way excellent we cannot better tell than by appending to this sketch her own report to the Chief of Field Relief Corps.

AMY M. BRADLEY

To illustrate her determined and persistent spirit during the first four years of her life as a teacher she taught country schools during the summer and winter, and during the spring and fall attended the academy in her native town, working for her board in private families.

At the age of twenty-one, through the influence of Noah Woods, Esq., she obtained an appointment as principal of one of the Grammar Schools in Gardiner, Maine, where she remained until the fall of 1847. At the end of that time she resigned and accepted an appointment as assistant in the Winthrop Grammar School, Charlestown, Massachusetts, obtained for her by her cousin, Stacy Baxter, Esq., the principal of the Harvard Grammar School in the same city. There she remained until the winter of 1849-50, when she applied for a similar situation in the Putnam Grammar School, East Cambridge (where higher salaries were paid) and was successful. She remained, however, only until May, when a severe attack of acute bronchitis so prostrated her strength as to quite unfit her for her duties during the whole summer. She had previously suffered repeatedly from pneumonia. Her situation was held for her until the autumn, when finding her health not materially improved, she resigned and prepared to spend the winter at the South in the family of a brother residing at Charleston, South Carolina.

Miss Bradley returned from Charleston the following spring. Her winter in the South had not benefited her as she had hoped and expected, and she found herself unable to resume her occupation as a teacher.

During the next two years her active spirit chafed in forced idleness, and life became almost a burden. In the autumn of 1853, going to Charlestown and Cambridge to visit friends, she met the physician who had attended her during the severe illness that terminated her teacher-life. He examined her lungs, and gave it as his opinion that only a removal to a warmer climate could preserve her life through another winter, and that the following months of frost and cold spent in the North must undoubtedly in her case develop pulmonary consumption.

To her these were words of doom. Not possessed of the means for travelling, and unable, as she supposed, to obtain a livelihood in a far off country, she returned to Maine, and resigned herself with what calmness she might, to the fate in store for her.

But Providence had not yet developed the great work to which she was appointed, and though sorely tried, and buffeted, she was not to be permitted to leave this mortal scene until the objects of her life were fulfilled. Through resignation to death she was, perhaps, best prepared to live, and even in that season when earth seemed receding from her view, the wise purposes of the Ruler of all in her behalf were being worked out in what seemed to be an accidental manner.

In the family of her cousin, Mr. Baxter, at Charlestown, Massachusetts, there had been living, for two years, three Spanish boys from Costa Rica, Central America. Mr. Baxter was an instructor of youth and they were his pupils. About this period their father arrived to fetch home a daughter who was at school in New York, and to inquire what progress these boys were making in their studies. He applied to Mr. Baxter to recommend some lady who would be willing to go to Costa Rica for two or three years to instruct his daughters in the English language. Mr. Baxter at once recommended Miss Bradley as a suitable person and as willing and desirous to undertake the journey. The situation was offered and accepted, and in November, 1853, she set sail for Costa Rica.

After remaining a short time with the Spanish family, she accepted a proposition from the American Consul, and accompanied his family to San Josè, the Capital, among the mountains, some seventy miles from Punta Arenas, where she opened a school receiving as pupils, English, Spanish, German, and American children. This was the first English school established in Central America. For three months she taught from a blackboard, and at the end of that time received from New York, books, maps, and all the needful apparatus for a permanent school.

This school she taught with success for three years. At the end of that time learning that the health of her father, then eighty-three years of age, was rapidly declining, and that he was unwilling to die without seeing her, she disposed of the property and "good-will" of her school, and as soon as possible bade adieu to Costa Rica. She reached home on the 1st of June, 1857, after an absence of nearly four years. Her father, however, survived for several months.

Her health which had greatly improved during her stay in the salubrious climate of San Josè, where the temperature ranges at about 70° Fahrenheit the entire year, again yielded before the frosty rigors of a winter in the Pine Tree State, and for a long time she was forced to lead a very secluded life. She devoted herself to reading, to the study of the French and German languages, and to teaching the Spanish, of which she had become mistress during her residence in Costa Rica.

In the spring of 1861, she went to East Cambridge, where she obtained the situation of translator for the New England Glass Company, translating commercial letters from English to Spanish, or from Spanish to English as occasion required.

This she would undoubtedly have found a pleasant and profitable occupation, but the boom of the first gun fired at Sumter upon the old flag stirred to a strange restlessness the spirit of the granddaughter of one who starved to death on board the British Prison Ship Jersey, during the revolution. She felt the earnest desire, but saw not the way to personal action, until the first disastrous battle of Bull Run prompted her to immediate effort.

She wrote to Dr. G. S. Palmer, Surgeon of the Fifth Regiment Maine Volunteers, an old and valued friend, to offer her services in caring for the sick and wounded. His reply was quaint and characteristic. "There is no law at this end of the route, to prevent your coming; but the law of humanity requires your immediate presence."

As soon as possible she started for the seat of war, and on the 1st of September, 1861, commenced her services as nurse in the hospital of the Fifth Maine Regiment.

The regiment had been enlisted to a great extent from the vicinity of Gardiner, Maine, where, as we have said, she had taught for several years, and among the soldiers both sick and well were a number of her old pupils.

The morning after her arrival, Dr. Palmer called at her tent, and invited her to accompany him through the hospital tents. There were four of these, filled with fever cases, the result of exposure and hardship at and after the battle of Bull Run.

In the second tent, were a number of patients delirious from the fever, whom the surgeon proposed to send to Alexandria, to the General Hospital. To one of these she spoke kindly, asking if he would like to have anything; with a wild look, and evidently impressed with the idea that he was about to be ordered on a long journey, he replied, "I would like to see my mother and sisters before I go home." Miss Bradley was much affected by his earnestness, and seeing that his recovery was improbable, begged Dr. Palmer to let her care for him for his mother and sisters' sake, until he went to his last home. He consented, and she soon installed herself as nurse of most of the fever cases, several of them her old pupils. From morning till night she was constantly employed in ministering to these poor fellows, and her skill in nursing was often of more service to them than medicine.

Colonel Oliver O. Howard, the present Major-General and Commissioner of the Freedmen's Bureau, had been up to the end of September, 1861, in command of the Fifth Maine Regiment, but at that time was promoted to the command of a brigade; and Dr. Palmer was advanced to the post of brigade surgeon, while Dr. Brickett succeeded to the surgeoncy of the Fifth Regiment.

By dint of energy, tact and management, Miss Bradley had brought the hospital into fine condition, having received cots from friends in Maine, and supplies of delicacies and hospital clothing from the Sanitary Commission. General Slocum, the new brigade commander, early in October made his first round of inspection of the regimental hospitals of the brigade. He found Dr. Brickett's far better arranged and supplied than any of the others, and inquired why it was so. Dr. Brickett answered that they had a Maine woman who understood the care of the sick, to take charge of the hospital, and that she had drawn supplies from the Sanitary Commission. General Slocum declared that he could have no partiality in his brigade, and proposed to take two large buildings, the Powell House and the Octagon House, as hospitals, and instal Miss Bradley as lady superintendent of the Brigade Hospital. This was done forthwith, and with further aid from the Sanitary Commission, as the Medical Bureau had not yet made any arrangement for brigade hospitals, Miss Bradley assisted by the zealous detailed nurses from the brigade soon gave these two houses a decided "home" appearance. The two buildings would accommodate about seventy-five patients, and were soon filled. Miss Bradley took a personal interest in each case, as if they were her own brothers, and by dint of skilful nursing raised many of them from the grasp of death.

A journal which she kept of her most serious cases, illustrates very forcibly her deep interest and regard for all "her dear boys" as she called them. She would not give them up, even when the surgeon pronounced their cases hopeless, and though she could not always save them from death, she undoubtedly prolonged life in many instances by her assiduous nursing.

On the 10th of March, 1862, Centreville, Virginia, having been evacuated by the rebels, the brigade to which Miss Bradley was attached were ordered to occupy it, and five days later the Brigade Hospital was broken up and the patients distributed, part to Alexandria, and part to Fairfax Seminary General Hospital. In the early part of April Miss Bradley moved with the division to Warrenton Junction, and after a week's stay in and about Manassas the order came to return to Alexandria and embark for Yorktown. Returning to Washington, she now offered her services to the Sanitary Commission, and on the 4th of May was summoned by a telegraphic despatch from Mr. F. L. Olmstead, the energetic and efficient Secretary of the Commission, to come at once to Yorktown. On the 6th of May she reached Fortress Monroe, and on the 7th was assigned to the Ocean Queen as lady superintendent. We shall give some account of her labors here when we come to speak of the Hospital Transport service. Suffice it to say, in this place that her services which were very arduous, were continued either on the hospital ships or on the shore until the Army of the Potomac left the Peninsula for Acquia Creek and Alexandria, and that in several instances her kindness to wounded rebel officers and soldiers, led them to abandon the rebel service and become hearty, loyal Union men. She accompanied the flag of truce boat three times, when the Union wounded were exchanged, and witnessed some painful scenes, though the rebel authorities had not then begun to treat our prisoners with such cruelty as they did later in the war. Early in August she accompanied the sick and wounded men on the steamers from Harrison's Landing to Philadelphia, where they were distributed among the hospitals. During all this period of hospital transport service, she had had the assistance of that noble, faithful, worker Miss Annie Etheridge, the "Gentle Annie" of the Third Michigan regiment, of whom we shall have more to say in another place. For a few days, after the transfer of the troops to the vicinity of Washington, Miss Bradley remained unoccupied, and endeavored by rest and quiet to recover her health, which had been much impaired by her severe labors.

A place was, however, in preparation for her, which, while it would bring her less constantly in contact with the fearful wounds and terrible sufferings of the soldiers in the field, would require more administrative ability and higher business qualities than she had yet been called to exercise.

The Sanitary Commission in their desire to do what they could for the soldier, had planned the establishment of a Home at Washington, where the private soldier could go and remain for a few days while awaiting orders, without being the prey of the unprincipled villains who neglected no opportunity of fleecing every man connected with the army, whom they could entice into their dens; where those who were recovering from serious illness or wounds could receive the care and attention they needed; where their clothing often travel-stained and burdened with the "Sacred Soil of Virginia," could be exchanged for new, and the old washed, cleansed and repaired. It was desirable that this Home should be invested with a "home" aspect; that books, newspapers and music should be provided, as well as wholesome and attractive food, and that the presence of woman and her kindly and gentle ministrations, should exert what influence they might to recall vividly to the soldier the home he had left in a distant state, and to quicken its power of influencing him to higher and purer conduct, and more earnest valor, to preserve the institutions which had made that home what it was.

Rev. F. N. Knapp, the Assistant Secretary of the Commission, on whom devolved the duty of establishing this Home, had had opportunity of observing Miss Bradley's executive ability in the Hospital Transport Service, as well as in the management of a brigade hospital, and he selected her at once, to take charge of the Home, arrange all its details, and act as its Matron. She accepted the post, and performed its duties admirably, accommodating at times a hundred and twenty at once, and by her neatness, good order and cheerful tact, dispensing happiness among those who, poor fellows, had hitherto found little to cheer them.

But her active and energetic nature was not satisfied with her work at the Soldiers' Home. Her leisure hours, (and with her prompt business habits, she secured some of these every day), were consecrated to visiting the numerous hospitals in and around Washington, and if she found the surgeons or assistant surgeons negligent and inattentive, they were promptly reported to the medical director. The condition of the hospitals in the city was, however, much better than that of the hospitals and convalescent camps over the river, in Virginia. A visit which she made to one of these, significantly named by the soldiers, "Camp Misery," in September, 1862, revealed to her, wretchedness, suffering and neglect, such as she had not before witnessed; and she promptly secured from the Sanitary Commission such supplies as were needed, and in her frequent visits there for the next three months, distributed them with her own hands, while she encouraged and promoted such changes in the management and arrangements of the camp as greatly improved its condition.

This "Camp Misery" was the original Camp of Distribution, to which were sent, 1st, men discharged from all the hospitals about Washington, as well as the regimental, brigade, division and post hospitals, as convalescent, or as unfit for duty, preparatory to their final discharge from the army; 2d, stragglers and deserters, recaptured and collected here preparatory to being forwarded to their regiments; 3d, new recruits awaiting orders to join regiments in the field. Numerous attempts had been made to improve the condition of this camp, but owing to the small number and inefficiency of the officers detailed to the command, it had constantly grown worse. The convalescents, numbering nine or ten thousand, were lodged, in the depth of a very severe winter, in wedge and Sibley tents, without floors, with no fires, or means of making any, amid deep mud or frozen clods, and were very poorly supplied with clothing, and many of them without blankets. Under such circumstances, it was not to be expected that their health could improve. The stragglers and deserters and the new recruits were even worse off than the convalescents. The assistant surgeon and his acting assistants, up to the last of October, 1862, were too inexperienced to be competent for their duties.

In December, 1862, orders were issued by the Government for the construction of a new Rendezvous of Distribution, at a point near Fort Barnard, Virginia, on the Loudon and Hampshire Railroad, the erection of new and more comfortable barracks, and the removal of the men from the old camp to it. The barracks for the convalescents were fifty in number and intended for the accommodation of one hundred men each, and they were completed in February, 1863, and the new regulations and the appointment of new and efficient officers, greatly improved the condition of the Rendezvous.

In December, 1862, while the men were yet in Camp Misery, Miss Bradley was sent there as the Special Relief Agent of the Sanitary Commission, and took up her quarters there. As we have said the condition of the men was deplorable. She arrived on the 17th of December, and after setting up her tents, and arranging her little hospital, cook-room, store-room, wash-room, bath-room, and office, so as to be able to serve the men most effectually, she passed round with the officers, as the men were drawn up in line for inspection, and supplied seventy-five men with woollen shirts, giving only to the very needy. In her hospital tents she soon had forty patients, all of them men who had been discharged from the hospitals as well; these were washed, supplied with clean clothing, warmed, fed and nursed. Others had discharge papers awaiting them, but were too feeble to stand in the cold and wet till their turn came. She obtained them for them, and sent the poor invalids to the Soldiers' Home in Washington, en route for their own homes. From May 1st to December 31st, 1863, she conveyed more than two thousand discharged soldiers from the Rendezvous of Distribution to the Commission's Lodges at Washington; most of them men suffering from incurable disease, and who but for her kind ministrations must most of them have perished in the attempt to reach their homes. In four months after she commenced her work she had had in her little hospital one hundred and thirty patients, of whom fifteen died. For these patients as well as for other invalids who were unable to write she wrote letters to their friends, and to the friends of the dead she sent full accounts of the last hours of their lost ones. The discharged men, and many of those who were on record unjustly as deserters, through some informality in their papers, often found great difficulty in obtaining their pay, and sometimes could not ascertain satisfactorily how much was due them, in consequence of errors on the part of the regimental or company officers. Miss Bradley was indefatigable in her efforts to secure the correction of these papers, and the prompt payment of the amounts due to these poor men, many of whom, but for her exertion, would have suffered on their arrival at their distant homes. Between May 1st and December 31st, 1863, she procured the reinstatement of one hundred and fifty soldiers who had been dropped from their muster rolls unjustly as deserters, and secured their arrears of pay to them, amounting in all to nearly eight thousand dollars.

On the 8th of February, 1864, the convalescents were, by general orders from the War Department, removed to the general hospitals in and about Washington, and the name changed from Camp Distribution to Rendezvous of Distribution, and only stragglers and deserters, and the recruits awaiting orders, or other men fit for duty were to be allowed there. For nearly two months Miss Bradley was confined to her quarters by severe illness. On her recovery she pushed forward an enterprise on which she had set her heart, of establishing a weekly paper at the Rendezvous, to be called "The Soldiers' Journal," which should be a medium of contributions from all the more intelligent soldiers in the camp, and the profits from which (if any accrued), should be devoted to the relief of the children of deceased soldiers. On the 17th of February the first number of "The Soldiers' Journal" appeared, a quarto sheet of eight pages; it was conducted with considerable ability and was continued till the breaking up of the Rendezvous and hospital, August 22, 1865, just a year and a half. The profits of the paper were twenty-one hundred and fifty-five dollars and seventy-five cents, beside the value of the printing-press and materials, which amount was held for the benefit of orphans of soldiers who had been connected with the camp, and was increased by contributions from other sources. Miss Bradley, though the proprietor, was not for any considerable period the avowed editor of the paper, Mr. R. A. Cassidy, and subsequently Mr. Thomas V. Cooper, acting in that capacity, but she was a large contributor to its columns, and her poetical contributions which appeared in almost every number, indicated deep emotional sensibilities, and considerable poetic talent. Aside from its interesting reading matter, the Journal gave instructions to the soldiers in relation to the procurement of the pay and clothing to which they were entitled; the requisites demanded by the government for the granting of furloughs; and the method of procuring prompt settlement of their accounts with the government without the interference of claim agents. During the greater part of 1864, and in 1865, until the hospital was closed, Miss Bradley, in addition to her other duties, was Superintendent of Special Diet to the Augur General Hospital, and received and forwarded from the soldiers to their friends, about forty-nine hundred and twenty-five dollars.