There were, besides, three men sick of fever and dysentery, desperately ill, considered hopeless when sent to the “Refuge,” but who all recovered.  This is certainly a remarkable record, and one to be proud of.  Among the patients was that noble patriot, Colonel Alcibiades de Blanc, of St. Martin’s Parish, Louisiana, of whom Lousianians proudly relate that he refused to be made a brigadier-general, saying he did not feel competent to fill such a position, and was content to serve his country as a private soldier, feeling that no position could be more honorable.

Of Company K, Eighth Louisiana, and Company H, Seventh Louisiana, nearly all the sick and wounded enjoyed, at one time or another during the war, the hospitalities of the “Refuge.”  General Hays was a personal friend and honored guest.  Henry Weir Baker there recovered from typhoid fever.  This gentleman was a member of Washington Artillery, a distinction which is enough of itself, without an added word of praise.  He is now residing in New Orleans, a successful journalist, and has been untiring in his patriotic efforts to develop the splendid resources of Louisiana.  Fred Washington, of New Orleans, was also saved to his country by the kindly attentions of Mrs. Caldwell.  He also is an honored citizen of New Orleans, engaged as a journalist, and is one of the faithful few who do not forget.

He is an active member of the association A.N.  Va., always “to the fore” when opportunities occur to honor the dead Confederates or to succor the living.

Of the hundreds who now live to remember with liveliest gratitude the “Refuge” they once found from the horrors and toils and pains of battle, and the gentle hostess who so unweariedly ministered to them, I can gather only a few names besides those already mentioned,—­those of Lieutenant Brooks, Seventh Louisiana; Dr. Henry Larreux, ——­ ——­; Lieutenant Henri Puisson, Tenth Louisiana.

Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell were New Orleans people.  Their temporary home in Virginia was taken with the definite object in view of offering a “refuge” to sick and wounded Louisiana soldiers.  She is, of course, proud of its “record” and her own, but simply says in her letter to me, “On opening the ‘Refuge’ (Mr. John Edwards Caldwell said to his wife) we will each do all we find to do, and all we can do, without consulting or telling each other what we do.  And this we carried out.”

While seeking materials for this sketch, I have interviewed several of the veterans who were in Virginia her guests and patients.  I had but to mention her name to ask, “Do you know Mrs. Caldwell, of the ‘Refuge?’” and forthwith the eyes of stern men grew misty, and an indescribable look brightened careworn faces, the look I know so well and have learned to think more beautiful than “any light that falls on land or sea.” “Know her! Why, but for her I must have died.”  Thus to become of blessed memory is worth a lifetime of toil and self-devotion.  And yet the cause and its defenders were worth it all, and more.  As far as the wounded and sick soldiers are concerned, I am sure that Mrs. Caldwell, equally with myself and all others, who during the war were so blessed as to be permitted to minister to them, will be willing to declare that magnificent as were their brave deeds, their patient endurance seemed almost “the better part of valor.”