space), than any house, and such piles of letters and books and Neddy’s picture over the table, and the quiet little boy, following close and looking up in his master’s face, like any pet, all presented a scene which I wished his intelligent and appreciative wife, at least, could have looked in upon. Oh, yes, I must not “forget” to mention the conspicuous position which _Grandma’s mittens_ occupied upon the table. Mr. James put them on to show what a nice fit they were and wondered what “Grandma” would say if she were to look in upon him in his tent. Clara Barton was still in Washington through January and apparently through February, 1862. Not always was she able to include pleasant weather among the occasions of her thanksgiving. Every now and again a pitiless storm beat down upon the soldiers, who were poorly provided with tents and blankets. Frequently she met among the soldiers in Washington some of her old pupils. She was never able to look upon armies as mere masses of troops; she had to remember that they were individual men, each capable of suffering pain in his own person, and each of them carrying with him to the front the anxious thought of loved ones at home. This was the burden of a letter which she wrote on January 9, 1862: WASHINGTON, D.C., Jan’y 9th, 1862 Thursday morning MY DARLING SIS FANNIE: In spite of everything, I shall this moment commence this note to you, and I shall finish it as soon as I can, and when it is finished, I shall send it. In these days of “Proclamations,” this is mine.