XXVI And when at morning and evening repast, with folded hands and grateful heart, you bless God for the bounties He has placed before you, let your thoughts wander a little to find if there is not another than yourself. CLARA BARTON. Paradise is open to all kind hearts. BERANGER. Kind words are the music of the world. F. W. FABER. Happiness must be unselfish; only in the happiness of all can one find happiness. TOLSTOI. Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks Shall win my love. SHAKESPEARE. I have always refused a tent unless the army had tents also, and I have never eaten a mouthful of my own soft bread or fresh meat, until the sick of the army were abundantly supplied with both. CLARA BARTON. Clara Barton is the noblest, bravest, and most unselfish woman God Almighty ever made. JUDGE JOSEPH SHELDON. HIS COMFORT, NOT HERS; HIS LIFE, NOT HERS In the winter of 1863–64 Clara Barton lived for a time in an old plantation house on Chapin’s farm, in Virginia. Chapin’s farm was not far from the field hospital. In the hospital were the sick and wounded; her services there were greatly needed. An ambulance was sent as a detail to bring her to the hospital. The soldier-messenger arrived at the house, and called for her. It was in the midst of a snow storm, the thermometer indicator hovering around zero. “Wait a minute,” she said; “tie your horses and come in. Have you had any dinner?” “No marm,” he replied. The soldier sat down to a dinner of cold meat, hot biscuit, cake and cocoa,—a refreshing change from “hardtack” and “salt hash,” the daily rations of the soldier. While the soldier-messenger was eating his meal she had been thinking. “The soldier has generally no part nor voice in creating the war in which he fights. He simply obeys, as he must, his superiors and the laws of his country.” The soldier is under orders, but he is under _my_ orders now. It’s bitter cold and, while I can ride comfortably on the inside of the ambulance, he must ride outside on the seat in the snow. She considered his comfort, not her own; his life, not hers. She _ordered_ him to put his horses in the barn and care for them. She made him her guest, standing sponsor for him at military headquarters—awaiting a pleasant day for the trip. In soliloquizing on her conduct she said: “God forbid that I should ask the useless exposure of _one_ man, the desolation of _one_ home.” XXVII Advice is seldom welcome. LORD CHESTERFIELD. Men give away nothing so liberally as their advice. ROCHEFOUCAULD. I do not like giving advice; it is incurring an unnecessary responsibility. BEACONSFIELD. Those who give bad advice to the prudent both lose their pains and are laughed to scorn. PHAEDRUS.