circumstances required. The beds were miracles of whiteness, and clean
linen sheets, in almost every case, draped and covered them. Softest
pillows in slips of odorous linen supported the restless heads of the
sick. By the side of each cot stood a small table (one or two
old-fashioned stands of solid mahogany among them). Upon these were
spread fine napkins. Fruit, drinks, etc., were set upon them, not in
coarse, common crockery, but in delicate china and glass. _Nothing was
too good for the soldiers_. The school-house contained three rooms.
The school-room proper was quite large, and here were ranged about
thirty beds. One of the recitation-rooms was set apart for patients
who might need special attention or seclusion. The other was occupied
by the ladies whose duty it was to receive and distribute the delicate
and nutritious supplies of food which unfailingly arrived at stated
hours, borne by aristocratic-looking colored servants, on silver
waiters or in baskets covered with snowy damask. During every hour of
the day, gentle women ministered untiringly to the sick. They woke
from fevered dreams to behold kindly faces bending above them, to feel
the touch of soft hands, to receive the cooling draught or welcome
food. Every evening brought carriage-loads of matrons and young girls
laden with flowers or fruit, bringing books, and, better than all,
smiles and pleasant words. The sick soldiers were objects of interest
to all. All hearts yearned over them, all hands were ready to serve
them. As night came on, the ladies who had served during the day were
replaced by others. No one ever failed to meet her self-imposed
duties. No patient was for a moment neglected.

I cannot recall the names of all the ladies who attended at the
Soldiers' Rest. Those whom I knew best were Mrs. Gawthmey, Mrs.
Booker, Mrs. Grant, Miss Catherine Poitreaux, Mrs. Edmond Ruffin, and
Miss Susan Watkins.