The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1864-12-16
The Hospital Nurse,

Reader, do you know the exquisite pleas
ure to be derived from doing good to 9TH
ers? Unless you have realized 1T from
actual experience, you can form no concep.
ton Of it. During my stay at Memphis,
Tennessee, there was a call for woman 3
aid in the military hospitals l had never
in my life been within hospital, and had
no very definite ideas of the place; but
hesitated not 4; seemed to hear a voice
whisper" Go! do what thou canst, and
sweet shall be thy reward"
Iwent, and oh sweet, indeed, was my
reward. For nine months tarried within
the walls of the Jefferson q. s. General
Hospital, ministering to the sick and
wounded soldiers who languished there.
And though, in years before, in the fair
southern scenes, l had thought knew
happiness, and thought there might be
many a year of unalloyed happiness. in
store for me, yet shall always look back
upon those nine months spent beside the
cot of the wounded and dying as the hap
piest season of my whole life.
l witnessed scenes of sadness there, OF
course. Ah, yes! Sever till then had
looked upon death. But there, almost
daily, was it my lot to stand beside some
dying couch and mark the change, the look
that comes but once in the human face {;
wipe the death-dew from the pallid brow /;
cool the parched lip; listen to the dying
message of love breathed for the dear ones
left III the far home; received into my
heart the last earth-sigh, closed the death
dimmed eye, and leave upon the soldiers
brow kiss for the mother, the wife, the
sister afar. Yes, those were hours, and
yet rot without alloy, of peaceful satisfac-
ton. For it was sweet that to me was
youchsafed the sad privilege of ministering
to these in their dying hour, as only wo-
man can these noble ones, dying in the
arms of the stranger, 80 far from their
friends, where no tender mother, nor wife,
nor sister could smooth their dying pillow.
There were hours Of sadness and scenes
painful enough to move the most hardened
heart. Yet, oh! there was joy-there
was exquisite pleasure, there was happi-
ness unutterable arising from the con-
sciousness that I was doing good to those
suffering fellow beings, though ever so lit
tie, and that my efforts were appreciated,
and had gained for me the grateful love of
those whom l was trying to serve. My
only regret was, that lack of physical
strength would not permit me to do more
for their benefit. Yet what / did brought
truly the sweet reward which the whisper
ing voice had promised me at the outset.
Oh! for all the wealth of Golcondas
mines 1 would not exchange the recollec-
tions of the thrill of sweet, strange happi-
ness which would sweep over my soul
when, as I went through the wards, 1
could see each wan, pallid face light up
with gladness as came, and listen to the
words of gratitude poured forth to me.
oh, how thank you'll" "MaN God
bless you for your kindness to me" "Ah!
no one has ever spoken to me as you do
since l left my mother" "You seem just
like my sister" "My wife says l must
tell you she never forgets to mention your
name in her prayers for your goodness to
me; and my little boy and girl each send
you kiss for your kindness to their father.
There is my wifes last letter, which /
want you to read to me-"
These and many other kindred words
were daily breathed to me, and were to
my soul the sweetest music it had ever
heard, echoing through the silent cham.
bers of my heart long after they had fallen
upon the outward ear.
On one of the hottest days of South