A few steps below, between Ninth and Tenth Streets, was another
private hospital, similar in almost every respect to the one just
described, organized and presided over by Mrs. Caroline Mayo. She also
was assisted by several ladies, but had entire direction, and threw
herself into the work with all her soul. Her patriotism was boundless,
her courage and endurance unfailing. Not only at that time, but for
three years, every hour of her time, every thought of her heart, was
given to the sick and wounded Confederates.

Sometimes, alas! the care and nursing lavished upon the sick was
unavailing. Death often invaded the "Rest." In every case the rites of
burial were accorded. Women remembered tenderly the far-distant mother
or wife, and therefore honored their dead.

For a few days after my patient had ceased to need special nursing I
continued to serve with, the ladies attached to the little hospital on
Clay Street, still longing, however, for a larger sphere of
usefulness.

One morning, just as I had arrived there and was preparing to begin my
daily duties, a carriage stopped at the door, from which Mrs. Judge
Hopkins descended, and, hastily entering the hospital, announced to
the ladies that she had "_come for Mrs. Beers_." They strongly
demurred, and I felt at first great hesitation in obeying so hasty a
summons. But Mrs. Hopkins was very much in earnest. "Indeed, you
_must_ come," said she, "for I have great need of you. A large number
of sick and wounded Alabamians will arrive this morning. I have found
a place to put them, but some one must be there to prepare for their
accommodation, to receive hospital supplies, and direct their