How few, even of the army veterans, remember the sacrifices of the “Women of the War” in hospitals, homes and elsewhere! In the many G. A. R. annual Memorial services held since the war, when they are received in churches to hear their heroic deeds extolled, never have I heard a chaplain or minister give a thought of the women workers, by whose faithful care many of these brave soldiers were nursed back to life, and restored to their anxious families and to the country.
Miss Jones, of Philadelphia, was one of these rare, forgotten workers. Accomplished, refined, though delicate, she left her luxurious home with its order and comforts, to give her time, strength and means to the principles of national liberty, inbred into the life of every citizen of Philadelphia by the frequent sight of the old cradle of the American flag, the little home of Betsey Ross, where, under the direction of General Washington, Lafayette and others—she sewed into the bunting the thirteen stars and stripes of our national emblem. A million subscribers, at ten cents each, have enabled the Association to make it a national or State reservation in the densest business section of the city, where it has become a national Mecca to thousands yearly visiting the City of Brotherly Love.
Miss Jones, on arriving at City Point Hospital, at once took up the rough camp life in an army tent with earth floor,—often damp and wet,—a little cot, an apology for a table, barrel chairs, the usual chimney built roughly of logs and mud with barrel top, the plain and sometimes distasteful food, and the atmosphere of the sick wards. Here, however, she worked for many weeks in that enthusiastic ardor which inspired her kindly heart, feeling that she was giving help, comfort, and perhaps life, to the sick who came under her care.
Thoughtless of self, and with failing strength, she continued to work ceaselessly, till, contracting typhoid fever, she collapsed quite suddenly, but still hoped that rest in the bare lonely tent might restore her to her hospital work.
I had been too much occupied with my sick Boys even to see Miss Jones, though much interested in her, having lived near her in Philadelphia some years before the war; and the sad news came with a shock that this frail, devoted soul had sacrificed her life to her country and died in the field, like many a true soldier and patriot, far from friends and the home where every tender luxury was awaiting her.
Doctor Painter and I volunteered to sit beside her slight form during the night, which was intensely cold, while a full moon shed its silvery rays over the phantom of midnight silence in camp, and glittered like rare crystals on the pure white snow that seemed to reach the distant horizon, whence the brilliant stars looked down in love and pity. Mrs. Painter and I sat on rough chairs with our feet on logs, while the fire logs in the crude chimney burned brightly. Mrs. Painter, who had been among the first women to reach the front, meanwhile told me many a tale of her strange experiences when system had not reached the improvised temporary hospital tents, where many suffered for help and nourishment then unattainable. So the night passed, while the moaning wind sang “Rest, sweet soul,” often slightly swaying the white sheet that covered the pallid body. More than once we started quickly to the seeming motion of life, hoping it might be real, but the pure spirit had passed on, while the frail body rested with a pleasant smile, calmly, as if tended by the friends of home and the formalities of a last funeral service for the dead.
Her brother, Horatio, came for the body, and at last it was laid away among her ancestors in the family lot near Philadelphia.
Recognition of her services has been given in Philadelphia by the naming of one of the G. A. R. Posts “the Hetty Jones Post.”
The only other post that I have ever heard of named after a woman is the Betsey Ross Post, also of Philadelphia.
From Harper’s Weekly
Saturday April 30th, 1864
(By Private Miles O’Reilly)
Gen. Chas. Halpin.