"For a brief space the pair sat on the shores of time, the extreme cape and promontory of life. All around rolled the ocean of eternity. Then one went forward into the unknown, and the curtain between the two worlds fell. In wild agony she clasped his lifeless form. The ward-master sought tenderly to lift her and lead her away. For a moment the tempest in her soul found expression and she sprang upon him like a tigress. Then came again the strange, unnatural calm like that when the Master said, 'Peace, be still!' Quietly, thoughtfully she made all her arrangements and soon went northward to her dying mother, taking the precious dust of him she had loved with her, and we saw her no more. But her sad, pale, patient face will haunt me through life.
"If all the bits of romance in these hospitals were gathered up they would make volumes. I will instance only two cases.
"It is somewhat common to get shot now, and yet for all that it is none the less rather a painful and tragical experience. Well, two of our soldiers were shot; one had his arm taken off, and the other lost an arm and a leg also. They both wrote to their respective fair ones, expressing the fear that they would no longer wish to unite themselves with such mutilated specimens of humanity, and if such were their feelings they were free. The female engaged to the man who had lost an arm availed herself of his release. She could not think of marrying him under such circumstances. The blow was fatal to the poor fellow. He became hopelessly deranged, and is now in the asylum in this city. Still, considering her character, perhaps he escaped a worse fate.
"The lady engaged to the soldier who had lost both his arm and leg replied that she honored him for his wounds; that she loved him all the more for his patriotism and the heroism which led him to incur them; and that if he would permit her she would come on, and take care of him. She did so, and married him."
One turns with a feeling of relief, after the harrowing details in the letters already given, to this account of the Christmas festivities at Hampton Hospital.
"We are told that 'the desert shall blossom as the rose.' We believe it, for even the hospital,—the house of disease and wounds, the spot ever shadowed by the wings of the dark angel,—even this place of sombre associations can wreathe itself in festive garlands and resound with songs. Doctor McClellan, surgeon in charge, has the enlightened opinion that pills and physics are not the only health-restoring influences that can be brought to bear upon his patients. All efforts to celebrate the holidays with spirit have received his hearty sympathy and coöperation. The joyous season, so full of happy memories, has not passed in dull monotony. Though winds blew high and cold, still, throughout Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, the axes rang merrily in the woods. Huge masses of holly, cedar, and pine might be seen moving towards the different wards, and approaching near you would find a nurse or convalescent staggering along beneath the green and fragrant burden. Under the magic of many skilful hands the pliant boughs are soon tied and twisted into a thousand devices. Men with only one hand worked with the rest. Men possessing but a single leg were busy as the others. Thump, thump, over the floor go the crutches, as old battered veterans hobbled about in all directions, to view in different lights the artistic and fantastic results of their labors. Even the dull face of chronic pain lights up and wanly smiles, while dim eyes, fast closing on earthly scenes, gaze wistfully on the fragrant evergreens and query to themselves if they are to be the symbols of their memories at distant homes.
"But though many wards blossomed out into holiday garlands, the crowning glories of the kind were to be found in Ward C. Quaint devices, hanging festoons, wreaths and shields and graceful arches, draped the place in varied beauties like the tapestry of old, which turned rough and gloomy apartments into warm and silken bowers. The feathery cedar, tasselled pine, and far-famed laurel formed the rich background for the bright berries of the Christmas holly which glistened like rubies set in emerald folds. Flags were looped across the stage, and the curtains in the rear also showed the stars and stripes. The hospital choir and glee-club had here prepared an entertainment most agreeable to the tastes of all. Their motto, a beautiful transparency, explains its character, 'We come with songs to greet you.' As darkness fell a throng surrounded every door. Up the high steps to the main entrance, an hour before the doors were opened, crowding, jostling hundreds gathered, seeming like a human wave lifted by some powerful impulse from the sea of heads below. Around the building in circling eddies, knots of men sauntered talking, wondering, and anticipating concerning the pleasures of the evening. Above the swaying masses numerous crutches might be seen. Thus raised aloft they seemed like standards, showing well the spirit of our soldiers. It is not in wounds to keep them at home. If they have the sad misfortune not to have two legs beneath them, they are sure to go on one if anything unusual calls them out. Within, now, the lamps are lighted, down the long and echoing ward, and through the festoons and glistening arches, they wink and twinkle like fireflies in a cedar forest. The doors are opened and, under Doctor McClellan's wise and careful supervision, at least a thousand persons are soon admitted and seated. Those not so fortunate as to get seats fill every space of standing room. The hall is full, and those who cannot gain admittance crowd around outside the windows, where faces gleam in the fitful light, like framed and grotesque pictures.
"At a given signal the orchestra commenced, and the hum and buzz of many voices died away like a breeze in the forest. But it is useless to attempt to describe music—songs and anthems that seem like living spirits which by powerful spells may be called up to float and pass before you, and stir the soul with magic influences. It was no rude affair. Ears that have been educated at the Academy of Music would have tingled with novel and delightful sensations, could they have heard those deep, rich soldiers' voices accompanied by our lady nurses, and the lady teachers of the Tyler House, chanting our national anthems, or exciting irresistible mirth by their comic songs. Mr. Tilden's ripe, powerful, mellow voice moved every heart, and more than satisfied the nicest and most critical ear. Mr. George Terry, changeful as an April day, now convulsed the audience with laughter, and again, a moment afterwards, caused all eyes to overflow. Mrs. Meachann, Miss Eastman, Mr. Sears, and Mr. Allen sustained their parts with marked ability, and little Miss Mary White brought down the house by singing a ballad whose simple beauty was universally appreciated. But where all perfectly performed the parts assigned to them, it is almost invidious to make distinctions. Mr. Metcalf, the leader of the choir, must have been satisfied with the performances, as certainly all others were. 'Home, Sweet Home,' closed the entertainment, and carried us all back to that dear and never-to-be-forgotten place. Again in fancy we gathered around the familiar hearthstone, made warm and bright by blazing fire and sweet memories of other days. God grant that another Christmas day may find us all there.
"But in the hospital there were hundreds confined by sickness, wounds, and weakness to their beds. However good their will may have been they were physically unable to join with their more fortunate companions in outside enjoyments. They were not forgotten or neglected. On Sabbath afternoon the choir again assembled, and commencing with Ward One, we passed through fourteen wards, making the old walls ring again with Christmas anthems. This, with wishing the patients a merry Christmas, and that another return of the happy day might find them all safe at home, and the reading, in Luke ii., of the angelic announcement to the shepherds of the 'unspeakable gift' to us all, constituted the simple service. On Monday there was much high feeding. Sleek cattle and corpulent pigs were roasted whole, and there was a powerful mortality in the hospital poultry-yard. Men who could never carve their fortunes showed wonderful ability in carving turkey. These substantial luxuries, seasoned by the recent victories, made for us a royal feast, to which the sovereigns in blue sat down with unmingled satisfaction."