hero-dust. I have worn out my feet, as I did at Fredericksburg, for so many are wounded through the mouth, that all they eat has to be fed them by our hands. I had a letter from home, but hardly had time to be glad over it.
Our President has this day honored our hospital with a call. It has been one of our sunshiny days, and in anticipation of his coming, every one who was able to do light duty had a share in the work of cleansing and beautifying the camp. He looked pale and careworn, but had a smile for every one, as with pleasant words he passed through the Hues formed, and shook hands with the men, telling them they should all go home soon.
He was accompanied by a number of people, who seemed so gay and careless that I felt a sort of contempt for them, where so many were groaning with wounds.
One lady in rich garb sauntered through our worn walks, leaning on the arm of a Congressman, noting what we lacked in our appointments. My bed-tick dress made a sorry contrast to her costly-attired figure, but I looked at my hands, which were not afraid to touch the dirty blouse of a wounded soldier, and wondered if her jewelled fingers would shrink from the contact.
"There should be a greenhouse yonder," she said, pointing out the spot, and as her companion spoke of the cost, said disdainfully," "What of the expense?"
