the hospitals where diseased and aged people were kindly cared for by
them. She said they were active in the societies for the prevention of
cruelty to children and to animals. They fed armies of tramps out of
sheer pity; even the debauched drunkard was the object of their
tenderest care and their earnest prayers. They held out a friendly
hand to the prisoners in the jails and sent them flowers and Bibles;
they pitied and cheered the outcast with kind words. They offered
themselves as missionaries for foreign lands to convert the heathen and
bring them to Christ. They soothed the sick and made easy the last
days of the dying.

On the battlefield, when blood was flowing and cannon smoking, my
grandmother had seen the Red Cross women like angels of mercy binding
up the gaping wounds and gently closing the glazed eyes of the expiring
soldier. In woman's ear was poured his last message to his loved ones
far away, and when death was near it was woman who spoke the words of
consolation and her finger that pointed hopefully to the stars.

Did not all this prove her to be sweet and tender and loving and gentle
and kind? Yes--a thousand times yes.

My grandmother once had her nest near a cemetery, and often related
pathetic incidents which had come under her observation at that time.
One in particular I now recalled. It was of a woman who came every day
to weep over the mound where her babe was buried. She was worn to a
shadow from her long watching through its illness, and when it was
taken from her, her grief was deep. The bright world was no longer
bright since she was bereft of her darling, and her moans for the lost
loved one were heartrending.