apart and shelved, the articles were placed upon large tables to be sorted and piled upon the shelves, ready for reclamation by the convalescents and others who were not too ill to identify their own.  Some of these clothes were torn and buttonless.  My detailed men could not sew.  The demands of the sick and the duties of general supervision left me no time.  Taught by my experience of the devoted women of Virginia and Alabama, I resolved to visit some of the ladies of Gainesville, and to solicit their aid.  The response was hearty and immediate.  Next day the linen-room was peopled by bright, energetic ladies, at whose hands the convalescents received their renovated garments with words of warm sympathy and encouragement that cheered their hearts.

The lack of clean bedding being made known, these generous, patriotic women sent in soft, clean old sheets, pillow-slips, etc., also a few old shirts,—­some of them even bearing with me the horrors of the scurvy and gangrene wards to assist in making the sufferers more comfortable.  Details for all purposes were made as soon as I asked for them, and as “many hands make light work,” order and system began to pervade all departments.  A baggage-master, with several temporary assistants, found work for several days in disposing of the knapsacks, haversacks, blankets, etc.  As fast as they were claimed, they were ticketed with the number of the ward and bed of the claimant, and piled away to await his return to his regiment.  Those unreclaimed and known to have belonged to the dead were labelled as far as possible with the name and date of death, company, and regiment, and stored until friends should come or write for them.

The work of organization was not nearly complete, when Dr. McAllister received orders to report with his hospital staff at Ringgold, Georgia.  The sick were to be removed elsewhere,—­at any rate were not to accompany us.  Hospital stores would be supplied at Ringgold.  The doctor and his attendants awaited transportation, which seemed difficult to obtain.  Many bodies of soldiers crowded every train,—­passenger, freight, and even cattle cars.

Dr. McAllister decided to send his wife and myself by private conveyance to Marion, Alabama, to remain there until we should receive final directions.  Two servants belonging to Mrs. McAllister accompanied us.  Our kind hostess had put up a basket of provisions.

I took a sad leave of the patients who had become so dear to me, and one bright morning we drove rapidly out of Gainesville on our way to Marion.

The ride was a perfect delight, over excellent roads, or through aisles of the forest, where the healthful odor of the pines perfumed the air, and myriads of birds made sweetest music.  Stopping beside some sparkling spring to lunch and dine, chatting gayly all day, growing thoughtful and silent, as, borne upon the breeze of evening, there came to us the whispering voices of memory, renewing the sorrow of parting, awakening afresh anxious fears for the absent.