CECILIA FINDLAY. “People say that I must have been born brave,” said Clara Barton. “Why, I seem to remember nothing but terrors in my early days, I was a shrinking little bundle of fears, fears of thunder, fears of strange faces, fears of my strange self.” MARY R. PARKMAN—In _Heroines of Service_. Fear loves the idea of danger. S. CROXALL. The moment my fear begins, I cease to fear. SCHILLER. The weak most fear, the timid tremble, but the brave and stout of heart will work and hope and trust. CLARA BARTON. YOU’RE RIGHT, MADAM—GOOD DAY Immediately following the Battle of Fredericksburg, every house in the city became a hospital. Among the thousands of wounded Clara Barton, in her usual unobtrusive manner, passed in and out of the houses, first on one side of the street then on the other, on her mission of mercy. Provost Marshal General Patrick seeing her alone among the soldiers mistook her for a resident driven from her home. The general did not seem to know that any good woman is safe among men, brave and true, and nowhere else more so than among soldiers. He did not fully appreciate that when a woman is true to herself So dear to heav’n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her; and he did not know Clara Barton. So, with admirable southern chivalry, he dashed to her side, bowing with hat in hand, and said: “Madam, you are alone and in great danger here!” “No, I think not, Marshal.” “Yes, you are, Madam. May I offer you my protection?” “No, Marshal, I think it is not necessary.” Then turning to the ranks of the soldiers she further commented: “No, Marshal, I am the best protected woman in the United States.” The soldiers appreciating the compliment sent up cheer after cheer, accompanied with “That’s so! that’s so!” The Marshal, taking in the situation and waving his hand towards Miss Barton with a broad smile, said: “I think you are right, Madam, Good day!” XXXI Clara Barton dared the bullets on the battlefield with the abandon of a dashing cavalry leader. Pawtucket (R. I.) _Times_. In Clara Barton, the world has lost a guardian angel. PUEBLO CHIEFTAIN. Death grinned a horrible ghastly smile. JOHN MILTON. Says Clara Barton, in one of the battles of the Civil War, “A little sibley tent had been hastily pitched for me in a slight hollow upon a hillside. How many times I fell from sheer exhaustion in the darkness and mud of that slippery hillside I have no knowledge; but at last I grasped the welcome canvas, and a well established brook which washed in on the upper side, at the opening which served as the door, met me on my entrance to the tent.”