The winter of 1864, during Mrs. Brainard’s absence, and while boarding myself, was a season of fatiguing labor, from early dawn until late at night. Returning to my room after a busy day’s work, I had the privilege of getting my supper or going without it--and the going without was often preferable. Supper disposed of, the next thing in order was to transfer my new list of names to the register, and note down any removals from the hospitals, by death or otherwise (I here refer particularly to Michigan men). Then the long list of “wants,” noted down during the day for individual cases in the different hospitals visited, must be examined, and the article prepared for distribution. Then the mail, which night was sure to bring, must be examined--and many of those letters demanded not only a prompt reply, but often brought additional work. Here is one from a father, containing inquiries concerning his son, who, the last time he heard from him, was stationed in one of the forts on the south side of the Potomac; but for several weeks he has lost all trace of him, and requests me to try and find him and deliver the enclosed letter. My visit to the fort, a few days after, was unsuccessful; the boy had been sent to the army. The letter is returned to the father, with what information could be gathered. The next is from an anxious wife, earnestly requesting me to see her husband, who is sick in Washington; but she forgets to mention his regiment, or the hospital he is in. Another is from a young lady wishing to obtain a situation as nurse, and asks my advice and influence. Here is one from a soldier at the front who wishes me to store a box and valise for him until he shall call for them, designating the place where they may be found. In my search for these I was successful, as may be seen from an extract from my journal of February 23d, 1864, which I will quote: “This afternoon I have been in search of a box and valise belonging to a soldier of the Seventh Michigan Cavalry, which he left at a private house when he was sent from dismounted camp to his regiment several months ago. I succeeded at length in finding them, about four miles from here, on the Alexandria road, at a small wood-colored house, with high rickety steps, whose occupants evidently belonged to that class known as ‘poor white trash;’ but they were very kind and obliging. The articles had been carefully stored, and were readily delivered up as soon as they found I was authorized to get them.”