hurry and confusion; the hall was full of these wrecks of
humanity, for the most exhausted could not reach a bed till duly
ticketed and registered; the walls were lined with rows of such
as could sit, the floor covered with the more disabled, the steps
and doorways filled with helpers and lookers on; the sound of
many feet and voices made that usually quiet hour as noisy as
noon; and, in the midst of it all, the matron's motherly face
brought more comfort to many a poor soul, than the cordial
draughts she administered, or the cheery words that welcomed all,
making of the hospital a home.

The sight of several stretchers, each with its legless, armless,
or desperately wounded occupant, entering my ward, admonished me
that I was there to work, not to wonder or weep; so I corked up
my feelings, and returned to the path of duty, which was rather
"a hard road to travel" just then. The house had been a hotel
before hospitals were needed, and many of the doors still bore
their old names; some not so inappropriate as might be imagined,
for my ward was in truth a ball-room, if gun-shot wounds could
christen it. Forty beds were prepared, many already tenanted by
tired men who fell down anywhere, and drowsed till the smell of
food roused them. Round the great stove was gathered the
dreariest group I ever saw--ragged, gaunt and pale, mud to the
knees, with bloody bandages untouched since put on days before;
many bundled up in blankets, coats being lost or useless; and all
wearing that disheartened look which proclaimed defeat, more
plainly than any telegram of the Burnside blunder. I pitied them
so much, I dared not speak to them, though, remembering all they
had been through since the route at Fredericksburg, I yearned to
serve the dreariest of them all. Presently, Miss Blank tore me