whom last I beheld in the lusty pride of life, now lying, so low, with death near one, at least, of the number.
Shuddering as I heard a few groans escape him in his agony, the faintness passed away, and I felt equal to almost anything. In the second story I found ten more suffering extremely.
As I looked from the upper window to shut out the terrible sight of blood and wounds, my eyes fell upon another still as dreadful, and appealing urgently to my heart for help. A soldier lay on the bare ground—his head raised upon a pile of stones, the hot sun pouring down upon his pallid face, in which was no sign of life. Some moments passed, and he stirred not—then I questioned a nurse who was passing, and he replied to my inquiry of "Is that man dead?" "No, but about as good as dead—he can't live."
I never paused till I reached his side, and seeming to gather supernatural strength I helped to bring him into the house, after feeling his pulse, and ascertaining that there was life still in the body.
I gave him brandy, and in an hour he opened his eyes, and seemed to be a little conscious of what was going on about him. While striving to revive him the Doctor passed that way, and paused, asking, "What are you doing with that dead man?"
"Going to raise him for myself," I replied very deferentially, and he went his way, muttering about "calico nurses" being such plagues in a hospital, but I had come to Fredericksburg to meet just such rude sneers from just such men, while I strove to take up
