Night gathered her sable mantle about earth and sky, and the cold, wintry wind swept around the temporary hospital with a mournful wail, a rude lullaby, and a sad requiem to the wounded and dying soldier boys who crowded its rankling wards. Through the dark, sickly atmosphere, by the flickering lamp-lights, are just discernible the long rows of suffering, dying humanity. As the wind lulls, the sighs and groans of the unfortunate sufferers greet your ears on every side. "Water, water!" is the general request. Every moment new ones are added to the mangled and suffering throng, as they are brought in from the battle-field and the amputating-room. The surgeons are busily at work. Every able-bodied soldier must be at the front, for the emergency is great. Ah! who shall give the "water" which raging thirst momentarily demands? Who is to soothe the fearful anguish, from lacerated nerve and muscle, by cruel shot and shell? And who shall smooth the dying pillow, hear the last prayer, for self, and for loved ones far away in the northern homes? And who will kindly receive the dying messages for those dear ones,--wife, children, father, mother,--whom he never will see again, and kiss the pallid cheek, commend the soul to God, and close the eyes forever of the poor soldier boy, who died away from home and friends, in the hospital? God himself had raised up those to fill this sacred office, in the form of frail women--woman, because no man could fill the hallowed sphere. Flitting from couch to couch, like a fairy thing, noiselessly; like an angel of mercy, administering, soothing; but like a _woman_, beautiful, frail, and slender, with a cheering smile, and sympathy, as much expressed in the light of the eye as the sound of the voice, she moistened the parched lips, lightened the pillows, and the hearts, and seemed never to tire in deeds of love and kindness to the distressed soldiers. Next to the soldiers, the physicians know how to appreciate the true women at the hospital couch. After the manifestations of skill, labor, anxiety, and devotion to the cause by the physicians, thousands of men would have perished but for the hand and heart of woman, and who now live to speak her praise and cherish her memory forever. "Ain't she an angel?" said a gray-haired veteran, as she gave the boys their breakfast. "She never seems to tire; she is always smiling, and don't seem to walk, but flies from one to another. God bless her." "Ma'am, where did you come from?" asked a fair boy of seventeen summers, as she smoothed his hair, and told him, with gleaming eyes, he would soon see his mother, and the old homestead, and be won back to life and health. "How could such a lady as you come way down here to take care of us poor, sick, dirty boys?" "I consider it an honor," she said, "to wait on you, and wash off the mud you have waded through for me."