IN THE MIDST OF DEATH.
In due course of time Agnes approached Shreveport. While in the cars she had formed the acquaintance of three Sisters of Mercy, who were bound upon a similar errand of kindness and peril to her own.
At first, upon learning whither she was going, and what her object was, these pious ladies were thoroughly astonished; but when they found by interrogation that she was really in earnest, their friendly admiration became equal to their previous astonishment.
"Your services will be most welcome, Miss Arnold, I assure you," said the eldest of the Sisters. "This is the third time I have been summoned to nurse in yellow fever, and I know that there are never one-half the number of nurses necessary."
A little short of the stricken city they were all stopped, and it required the positive statement of the Sisters of Mercy that their youthful, lovely companion was really going into the place for the purpose of nursing the sick.
"Miss," asked an elderly gentleman, "were you ever acclimated here? Because if you were not, we cannot let you pass, for you would only get the fever yourself, and become a care instead of a help to us. Not only that, but you would surely be a corpse inside of twenty-four hours."
Agnes explained to the firm but kind gentleman, her New Orleans experience, and he relaxed and said:
"In that case, Miss Arnold, I sincerely welcome you, and in the name of the sick and dying people here, pray God that you may be spared to help them. Pass through, and heaven bless your brave and noble heart!"
Reader, if you are a man, possibly you have been in the army, and then possibly you have been in a column, to which has been assigned the task of storming a well-served battery of pieces. If so, you may remember the feelings that were within your heart as you left the last friendly cover of woods, and double-quicked across the open space up hill, and saw the artillery-men waiting till you got close up before pulling the primer lanyards, so as to make sure work of you all.
To Agnes Arnold going into Shreveport, the emotions must have been very much like yours in front of that battery. Yet there was no fluttering of her pulse.