Why, of course it could not fall, Guarded by the Lord of all, Who through choiring songs of heaven Hears the cry of earth’s forgiven. And till now its honest face Is a witness of His grace. SHARING POOR QUARTERS WITH DOROTHY L. DIX. In the winter of 1864-1865, the Union forces were concentrated in front of Petersburg and Richmond. There was more or less skirmishing and fighting all the while between the two great armies facing each other for the last desperate struggle. The hospitals were overcrowded at City Point and Point of Rocks. Every cot was occupied, every tent was crowded, and the thousands of troops coming down quartered wherever they could find a vacant place. I had not been in the cabin of a steamer bound for City Point very long till Miss Dorothy L. Dix came in. After the usual greetings, she informed me that she, too, was going to City Point. Miss Dix was the stateliest woman I ever saw, and she was very dignified in manner and conversation. Although at that time she was about sixty years old, she was tall, straight as an arrow, and unusually slender. Her hair, which was abundant, was very dark brown, almost black, and was combed and coiled on the top of her head, except two locks in front, which were combed smoothly over each ear and carried in a loop up over the coil on top of her head. This peculiar manner of dressing her hair seemed to add to her height and dignity. Her dress was always exceedingly plain, but neat, and her linen collar and cuffs were always immaculate. She wore no jewels, not even a breastpin. She required the same degree of plainness on the part of her nurses. It was not long after the boat left the dock at Washington till we had passed Alexandria and Mount Vernon, and were steaming on to Fortress Monroe at the mouth of the Potomac, with the ocean in full view. There was always a long stop at this point, as it was not only a strong military station, well-fortified and strongly guarded by troops and gunboats, but it was a great hospital centre. Thousands of sick and wounded lay sorely stricken in these great barracks and tents by the sea. It was about nine o’clock that evening when we reached City Point. We had discussed the question of lodging before we left the boat, and Miss Dix had said,-- “I have no concern. There are always plenty of cots, and I’ll find room in some of the nurses’ tents,” and she urged me to go with her. But I was equally confident, and assured her that the Christian Commission would take care of me. Mr. Cole, of Boston, the chief agent, was standing beside a tent, in deep thought, when I approached. When he saw me he lifted up his hand in dismay. “I have no place for you; every foot of space is occupied,” was his greeting. “How about the little tent where I stayed the last time?” “It is full of delegates lying on the ground on their blankets. I’ve given up my little corner to Dr. ----, and have no place to sleep myself.” “How about the storeroom?”