L. P. Brockett, The camp, the battlefield, and the hospital: or, lights and shadows of the great rebellion

“You must be guided by your circumstances,” was the answer made her; “we need both money and supplies, and you must do that which is most convenient for you.”

“ I prefer to give you money, if it will do as much good.”

“ Very well; then give money, which we need badly, and without which we cannot do what is most necessary for our brave sick men.”

“Then I will give you the entire earnings of the next two weeks. I'd give more, but I have to help support my mother, who is an invalid. Generally, I make but one vest a day, but I will work earlier and later these two weeks.”

In two weeks she came again, the poor sewing girl, her face radiant with the consciousness of philanthropic intent. Opening her portemonnaie, she counted out-how much do you think, reader?-nineteen dollars and thirty-seven cents! Every penny was earned by the slow needle, and she had stitched away into the hours of midnight, on every one of the working days of the week. We call that an instance of patriotism married to generosity.

Some farmers' wives in the north of Wisconsin, eighteen miles from a railroad, had given to the Commission of their bed and table linen, their husbands' shirts and drawers, their scanty supply of dried and canned fruits, till they had exhausted their ability to do more in this direction. Still they were not satisfied. So they cast about to see what could be done in another way. They were all the wives of small farmers, lately