The boys in white : $b The experience of a hospital agent in and around WashingtonWheelock, Julia S. (Julia Susan)
History
The boys in white : $b The experience of a hospital agent in and around Washington
Wheelock, Julia S. (Julia Susan)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Hospitals
Arriving in Washington, I was taken to the house of a lady widely
known for her labors of love for the soldiers--a loyal Washingtonian,
the only one of her family who remained true to the cause of freedom
and right during the dark days of the rebellion. The fatigue of the
journey brought on a relapse, so that I was not able to leave the city
for five weeks. I then returned to Michigan, and remained through the
winter, recruiting my health and collecting money for the benefit of
the soldiers.
I learned during that illness, as I never could in health, how to
appreciate the gratitude so often manifested by soldiers, even for
trifling favors. I can now understand the feelings expressed by a
wounded soldier in a letter received from him since the close of the
war, in which he asks if I remember the flowers I gave him while in a
hospital at Fredericksburg; and then spoke of the good they did him,
and the tears he shed over them. “Why,” he added, “for a while they
caused me to forget my pain, and I felt a renewed courage to bear my
sufferings more bravely, for to me they were a token of sympathy, and I
felt that I was not forgotten.” As I perused this letter, how vividly
I recalled a little incident that occurred in my own experience,
while sick at City Point. One afternoon, Dr. Smith, of the First
Michigan Cavalry, brought me a bunch of beautiful wild-flowers, most
delicately tinted. I had not seen a flower, or scarcely a green leaf
or a spire of grass for weeks before, which caused them to be the more
fully appreciated. Oh, how many times during those lonely hours they
were as a friend to me, with whom I conversed; and often-times tears
would unbidden start as I gazed upon their loveliness, for of all the
beautiful things in this beautiful world, they alone adorned my “canvas
home.” They were placed in a cup by my bed, where they remained until
they began to wither, and their little petals to fall off; then I
pressed them in my Bible, and I still cherish them as sweet mementoes
from a fragrant oasis in that sandy desert.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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