either to the right or left, I do not remember which.  Not a wheel must move, not a column of smoke arise; so, with the engine fires extinguished, the train stood motionless in the midst of a barren pine forest.  The small supply of cooked food was soon exhausted, the ladies on the train assisting to feed the wounded soldiers.  All were parched with thirst.  The only water to be procured lay in ruts and ditches by the roadside, and was filthy and fetid.  So the day passed.  All through the night every one was on the alert, listening intently for sounds that might mean danger.  No lights, no roadside fires could be allowed; but the moon shone brightly, and by its light the surgeons moved about among the suffering men, whose groans, united with the plaintive sigh of the chill wind through the pine forest, served to make night dismal indeed.  In the intervals of attending upon the sick we slept as we could, leaning up against boxes, tilted back in chairs against the side of the car, or lying down, with anything we could get for pillows.  Some of the surgeons and attendants bivouacked under the trees in spite of the cold.  In the morning we were hungry enough to eat the stale corn-bread, and tried to like it, but even of that there was very little, for the wounded men were ravenous.  Drs. Gore and Yates set themselves to whittle some “army-forks,” or forked sticks, and, cutting the bacon in thin slices, made little fires which they carefully covered with large pans to keep the smoke from arising.  By these they toasted slices of bacon.  Ah, how delicious was the odor, how excellent the taste!  Several hands were set at this work, but it was necessarily very slow.  I remained among my own patients, while my servant climbed in and out of the car, bringing as much meat as she could get, which I distributed while she returned for more.  The wounded men were clamorous for it, crying out, “Give it to us raw; we can’t wait.”  This we were soon compelled to do, as it was feared the smoke might escape and betray us.  I cannot now recollect by what means we received the welcome order to move on, but it came at last, and on the morning of the third day we reached Newnan, Georgia, where, after a few days’ bustle and confusion, we were pleasantly settled and had fallen into the old routine, Dr. Bemiss having arranged not only for excellent quarters but for fresh supplies of rations and hospital stores.

CHAPTER V.

NEWNAN, GEORGIA.

Just here Memory lays a restraining hand upon my own.  Turning to meet her gaze, it pleads with me to linger a while in this sweet and pleasant spot, peopled with familiar forms, and kindly faces, well-beloved in the past, fondly greeted once again.  Ah, how closely our little band clung together, how enduring were the ties that bound us!  Ignoring the shadow, seeking always to stand in the sunshine, we welcomed with yet unshaken faith the heavenly guest who stood in our midst, turning upon us almost for the last time an unclouded face, and eyes undimmed by doubt or pain,—­the angel of Hope.