I cannot recall the names of all the ladies who attended at the Soldiers’ Rest.  Those whom I knew best were Mrs. Gawthmey, Mrs. Booker, Mrs. Grant, Miss Catherine Poitreaux, Mrs. Edmond Ruffin, and Miss Susan Watkins.

A few steps below, between Ninth and Tenth Streets, was another private hospital, similar in almost every respect to the one just described, organized and presided over by Mrs. Caroline Mayo.  She also was assisted by several ladies, but had entire direction, and threw herself into the work with all her soul.  Her patriotism was boundless, her courage and endurance unfailing.  Not only at that time, but for three years, every hour of her time, every thought of her heart, was given to the sick and wounded Confederates.

Sometimes, alas! the care and nursing lavished upon the sick was unavailing.  Death often invaded the “Rest.”  In every case the rites of burial were accorded.  Women remembered tenderly the far-distant mother or wife, and therefore honored their dead.

For a few days after my patient had ceased to need special nursing I continued to serve with, the ladies attached to the little hospital on Clay Street, still longing, however, for a larger sphere of usefulness.

One morning, just as I had arrived there and was preparing to begin my daily duties, a carriage stopped at the door, from which Mrs. Judge Hopkins descended, and, hastily entering the hospital, announced to the ladies that she had “come for Mrs. Beers.”  They strongly demurred, and I felt at first great hesitation in obeying so hasty a summons.  But Mrs. Hopkins was very much in earnest.  “Indeed, you must come,” said she, “for I have great need of you.  A large number of sick and wounded Alabamians will arrive this morning.  I have found a place to put them, but some one must be there to prepare for their accommodation, to receive hospital supplies, and direct their arrangement, while I make purchases and attend to other matters.  Come,” holding out both hands towards me; “no hireling can fill the place.  Come, now; with me:  we have no time to lose.”  I hesitated no longer, but entered the carriage.  We were at once driven down-town, stopping to order cots, mattresses, etc., then to the corner of ——­ and ——­ Streets, where stood an immense tobacco factory, owned by Messrs. Turpin & Yarborough.

Arrived here, a pitiful sight met our eyes.  Perhaps fifty sick men had arrived unexpectedly, and were sitting or lying about in every conceivable position expressive of feebleness, extreme illness, utter exhaustion.  Mr. Yarborough, having given up the keys to Mrs. Hopkins, was impatiently pacing in and out among the prostrate men.  Coming upon this scene, both Mrs. Hopkins and myself at once realized all that lay before us, and braced our nerves to meet the emergency.

The men were soon under shelter, but no beds had yet arrived.  Mrs. Hopkins led me into the factory, introduced me to Dr. Clark, who had come to take charge as surgeon, and placed me under him at the head of affairs as her deputy.  A corps of nurses, hastily summoned, were ordered to report to me.