The ladies of Richmond, as of Lynchburg, and indeed of the whole country, are making for themselves a fame which will live in all future history, and brilliantly illuminate the brightest pages of the Republic’s history.
Discarding all false ceremony and giving full vent to those feelings and sentiments of devotion which make her the noblest part of God’s creation and the fondest object of man’s existence, the ladies of this city from all ranks have gone into the hospitals and are hourly engaged in ministering to the wants and relieving the sufferings of their countrymen.
Mothers and sisters could not be more unremitting in their attention to their own blood than these women are to those whom they have never seen before, and may never see again. They feed them, nurse them, and by their presence and sympathy cheer and encourage them. “Man’s inhumanity to man makes countless millions mourn,” but woman’s sympathy would heal every wound and make glad every heart.
THE HOSPITAL AFTER SEVEN PINES
[Richmond During the War, pages 135-136.]
On this evening, as a kind woman bent over the stalwart figure of a noble Georgian, and washed from his hair and beard the stiffened mud of the Chickahominy, where he fell from a wound through the upper portion of the right lung, and then gently bathed the bleeding gash left by the Minie ball, as he groaned and feebly opened his eyes, he grasped her hand, and in broken whispers, faint from suffering, gasping for breath, “I could-bear-all-this-for-myself-alone-but my-wife and my-six little-ones,” (and then the large tears rolled down his weather-beaten cheeks,) and overcome he could only add, “Oh, God! oh, God!-how will-they endure it?” She bent her head and wept in sympathy. The tall man’s frame was shaking with agony. She placed to his fevered lips a cooling draught, and whispered: “Think of yourself just now; God may raise you up to them, and if not, He will provide for and comfort them.” He feebly grasped her hand once more, and a look of gratitude stole over his manly face, and he whispered, “God bless you! God bless you! God bless you! kind stranger!”
BURIAL OF LATANE
[“The next squadron moved to the front under the lamented Captain Latane, making a most brilliant and successful charge with drawn sabres upon the enemy’s picked ground, and after a hotly-contested, hand-to-hand conflict put him to flight, but not until the gallant captain had sealed his devotion to his native soil with his blood.”—Official Report of the Pamunkey Expedition, Gen. J. E. B. Stuart, C. S. A., 1862.]