The ladies, wives of officers, attendants, etc., were more difficult to manage, for dread of the “Yankees,” combined with the pain of parting with their husbands or friends, who would soon go into battle, distracted them.  Fabulous prices were offered for means of conveyance.  As fast as one was procured it was filled and crowded.  At last, all were sent off except one two-horse buggy, which Dr. McAllister had held for his wife and myself, and which was driven by his own negro boy, Sam.  Meantime, I had visited all the wards, for some of the patients were very near death, and all were in a state of great and injurious excitement.  I did not for a moment pretend to withstand their entreaties that I would remain with them, having already decided to do so.  Their helplessness appealed so strongly to my sympathies that I found it impossible to resist.  Besides, I had an idea and a hope that even in the event of the town being taken I might prevail with the enemy to ameliorate their condition as prisoners.  So I promised, and quietly passed from ward to ward announcing my determination, trying to speak cheerfully.  Excitement, so great that it produced outward calm, enabled me to resist the angry remonstrances of the surgeon and the tearful entreaties of Mrs. McAllister, who was nearly beside herself with apprehension.  At last everybody was gone; intense quiet succeeded the scene of confusion.  I was alone,—­left in charge.  A crushing sense of responsibility fell upon my heart.  The alarm had been first given about eight o’clock in the morning.  By three the same afternoon soldiers, citizens, all had disappeared.

Only a few men who, by reason of wounds too recently healed or from other causes, were unable to march or to fight had been left to act as nurses.

I sat down upon the steps of my office to think it over and to gather strength for all I had to do.  On either side of me were two-story stores which had been converted into wards, where the sickest patients were generally placed, that I might have easy access to them.  Suddenly, from one of the upper wards, I heard a hoarse cry, as if some one had essayed to give the rebel yell.  Following it a confused murmur of voices.  Running hastily up-stairs, I met at the door of the ward a ghastly figure, clad all in white (the hospital shirt and drawers), but with a military cap on his head.  It was one of my fever patients who had been lying at death’s door for days.  The excitement of the morning having brought on an access of fever with delirium, he had arisen from his bed, put on his cap, and started, yelling, “to join the boys!” Weak as I had supposed him to be, his strength almost over-mastered my own.  I could hardly prevent him from going down the stairs.  The only man in the ward able to assist me at all was minus an arm and just recovering after amputation.  I was afraid his wound might possibly begin to bleed, besides, I knew that any man’s