V

WITH THE DOCTOR IN CAMP


"Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms."

--SHAKESPEARE.

When I awoke in Dr. Khayme's tent toward four o'clock of the afternoon
of July 22, I felt that my mind was clear; I had slept dreamlessly.

On the cover of my bed an envelope was lying--a telegram. I hastily tore
it open, and read: "Dr. Khayme tells me you are safe. Continue to do
your duty." My heart swelled,

I rose, and dressed, and went out. The Doctor was standing under a tree,
near a fire; a negro was cooking at the fire. Under an awning, or fly,
beneath which a small eating table was dressed, a woman was sitting in a
chair, reading. I thought I had seen her before, and looking more
closely I recognized the woman who had given the Doctor a cup of coffee
on Pennsylvania Avenue.

The Doctor stepped forward to meet me, "Ah, I see you have rested well,"
said he; then, "Lydia, here is Mr. Berwick."

I was becoming accustomed to surprises from the Doctor, so that I was
not greatly astonished, although I had received no intimation of the