in a stupor for hours.
One day I rallied and found the church deserted except Lucy and myself.
Soon two men came in. “Are you going?”
Lucy said, “No.
Mother told me if any were not able to be moved to bring them home, and we would care for them; he is not able, and must not go.”
The temptation was strong to stay, but a moment's reflection told me that I required hospital treatment, and I explained the danger to her. The men then carried me to the train and placed me on the floor of a baggage car. Lucy came with us, fixed my head all right, and, as a good sister should, kissed me good-by, and we were off for Baltimore
I was so weak that the rear
name of Lucy passed out of my mind, and I have never seen her since, but have ever prayed that the blessings of Heaven be showered upon her, for her constant care the last day in the old church saved me from fever.
The ride to Baltimore
The air was bad. Groans of the wounded were constant, and could be heard above the rattle of the car. I did not believe it was possible for me to live to reach the station, but I survived, although many of our number did not.
We arrived in Baltimore
about three o'clock in the morning, were placed in ambulances and driven over the rough pavements to the Newton University Hospital
The next day, for the first time, my wounds were dressed; the surgeon placed a large syringe where the ball had entered and forced water through the opening; maggots, pieces of clothing and bone came out; then they probed for the ball which had entered the groin, found it had struck the bone and glanced downward, lodging in the leg, where it yet remains.
We received the best possible care from the surgeons and