REPRESENTATIVE TEMPERANCE ADVOCATES [Illustration: MARY STEWART POWERS Clara Barton was prominent among women as an advocate of the cause of temperance. Through her leadership in practical humanitarianism she endeared herself to the whole world. Her good name will live forever.—MRS. MARY STEWART POWERS, Public Lecturer and State Superintendent of Scientific Temperance of Ohio. ] [Illustration: FRANCES WILLARD President W. C. T. U. In the name of your God and my God, ask your people and my people not to be discouraged in the good work (Red Cross) they have undertaken.—CLARA BARTON. From Armenia, in 1896, to Miss Willard. See page 347. ] XIII The Mother, patriot though she were, uttered her sentiments through choking voice and tender trembling words, and the young man caring nothing, fearing nothing, rushed gallantly on to doom and to death. CLARA BARTON. The soldier’s fear is the fear of being thought to fear. BOVEE. Self trust is the essence of heroism. EMERSON. I have no fear of the battle field; I want to go to the suffering men. CLARA BARTON. I was always afraid of everything except when someone was to be rescued from danger or pain. CLARA BARTON. Like the true Anglo-Saxon, loyal and loving, tender and true, the Mother held back her tears with one hand while with the other she wrung her fond farewell and passed her son on to the State. CLARA BARTON. FELL DEAD ON THE GROUND BESIDE HER The first time Clara Barton visited in New Haven, she wore a gray dress that had bullet holes in it—received in caring for the wounded at Fredericksburg. In describing the battle scene Clara Barton said: “Over into that City of Death; its roofs riddled by shells, its very Church a crowded hospital, every street a battle line, every hill a rampart, every rock a fortress, and every stone wall a blazing line of forts!” At Fredericksburg They rated blood as water, And all the slope shone red, Past Valor’s call By bristling wall; Defeat linked arms with slaughter Astride the blue-robed dead. As Miss Barton was being assisted off the bridge by an officer, an exploding shell hissed between them, passing below their arms as they were upraised, carrying away both the skirts of his coat and her dress. A moment later, on his horse, the gallant officer was struck by a solid shot from the enemy; the horse bounded in the air and the officer fell to the ground dead, not thirty feet in the rear. In her usual modest manner, in relating _war incidents_, she described the experience to a lady friend and said: “I never mended that dress. I wonder whether or not a soldier ever mends a bullet hole in his clothes.”