departed from her features, and her love of dress, if she had ever possessed any, had gone the way of the world's vanities. She wore a "horrible" bonnet, and a pair of scissors hanging from her left side conspicuously. She persisted in heaping opprobrious epithets on Miss Dix and "old Abe Lincoln," till we wearied of her tongue. Yet, in the kindness of her heart, she was going into the hospital city to do a woman's work amidst suffering men.
We arrived at Belle Plain on the afternoon of the 13th, and there the horror of battle burst upon us in sad, sad sights. Hundreds of wounded lay around in every stage of exhaustion, waiting for transportation to Washington.
I shall never forget the pale faces grimmed even then with the powder-smoke; eyes hollow, telling of long and intense agony, and patches of gore staining the uniform which bore the marks of swamp and thicket.
I remained all night with Mrs. Spencer, of the New York Relief, my companion a Miss Robertson, of the Cavalry Corps, who was going to Fredericksburg also. Our tent was pitched on the hill-side, and the rain began to fall in drenching showers, completely saturating everything about us—driving away sleep, even in our tired condition. I was glad when the gray morning dawned, and I could go out and help make the coffee for breakfast for the wounded boys.
I had assisted about an hour when the doctor on board of the transport sent for me to come and
