The amputations were reserved till the morrow,and the merciful magic of ether was not thought necessary that day,so the poor souls had to bear their pains as best they might.It is all very well to talk of the patience of woman;and far be it from me to pluck that feather from her cap,for,heaven knows,she isn't allowed to wear many;but the patient endurance of these men,under trials of the flesh,was truly wonderful.Their fortitude seemed contagious,and scarcely a cry escaped them,though I often longed to groan for them,when pride kept their white lips shut,while great drops stood upon their foreheads,and the bed shook with the irrepressible tremor of their tortured bodies.One or two Irishmen anathematized the doctors with the frankness of their nation,and ordered the Virgin to stand by them,as if she had been the wedded Biddy to whom they could administer the poker,if she didn't;but,as a general thing,the work went on in silence,broken only by some quiet request for roller,instruments,or plaster,a sigh from the patient,or a sympathizing murmur from the nurse.
It was long past noon before these repairs were even partially made;and,having got the bodies of my boys into something like order,the next task was to minister to their minds,by writing letters to the anxious souls at home;answering questions,reading papers,taking possession of money and valuables;for the eighth commandment was reduced to a very fragmentary condition,both by the blacks and whites,who ornamented our hospital with their presence.Pocket books,purses,miniatures,and watches,were sealed up,labelled,and handed over to the matron,till such times as the owners thereof were ready to depart homeward or campward again.The letters dictated to me,and revised by me,that afternoon,would have made an excellent chapter for some future history of the war;for,like that which Thackeray's "Ensign Spooney"wrote his mother just before Waterloo,they were "full of affection,pluck,and bad spelling;"nearly all giving lively accounts of the battle,and ending with a somewhat sudden plunge from patriotism to provender,desiring "Marm,""Mary Ann,"or "Aunt Peters,"to send along some pies,pickles,sweet stuff,and apples,"to yourn in haste,"Joe,Sam,or Ned,as the case might be.
My little Sergeant insisted on trying to scribble something with his left hand,and patiently accomplished some half dozen lines of hieroglyphics,which he gave me to fold and direct,with a boyish blush,that rendered a glimpse of "My Dearest Jane,"unnecessary,to assure me that the heroic lad had been more successful in the service of Commander-in-Chief Cupid than that of Gen.Mars;and a charming little romance blossomed instanter in Nurse Periwinkle's romantic fancy,though no further confidences were made that day,for Sergeant fell asleep,and,judging from his tranquil face,visited his absent sweetheart in the pleasant land of dreams.
At five o'clock a great bell rang,and the attendants flew,not to arms,but to their trays,to bring up supper,when a second uproar announced that it was ready.The new comers woke at the sound;and I presently discovered that it took a very bad wound to incapacitate the defenders of the faith for the consumption of their rations;the amount that some of them sequestered was amazing;but when I suggested the probability of a famine hereafter,to the matron,that motherly lady cried out:"Bless their hearts,why shouldn't they eat?It's their only amusement;so fill every one,and,if there's not enough ready to-night,I'll lend my share to the Lord by giving it to the boys."And,whipping up her coffee-pot and plate of toast,she gladdened the eyes and stomachs of two or three dissatisfied heroes,by serving them with a liberal hand;and I haven't the slightest doubt that,having cast her bread upon the waters,it came back buttered,as another large-hearted old lady was wont to say.
Then came the doctor's evening visit;the administration of medicines;washing feverish faces;smoothing tumbled beds;wetting wounds;singing lullabies;and preparations for the night.By twelve,the last labor of love was done;the last "good night"spoken;and,if any needed a reward for that day's work,they surely received it,in the silent eloquence of those long lines of faces,showing pale and peaceful in the shaded rooms,as we quitted them,followed by grateful glances that lighted us to bed,where rest,the sweetest,made our pillows soft,while Night and Nature took our places,filling that great house of pain with the healing miracles of Sleep,and his diviner brother,Death.
