I waited for New Year's day with more eagerness than I had ever known before;and,though it brought me no gift,I felt rich in the act of justice so tardily performed toward some of those about me.As the bells rung midnight,I electrified my room-mate by dancing out of bed,throwing up the window,and flapping my handkerchief,with a feeble cheer,in answer to the shout of a group of colored men in the street below.All night they tooted and tramped,fired crackers,sung "Glory,Hallelujah,"and took comfort,poor souls !in their own way.The sky was clear,the moon shone benignly,a mild wind blew across the river,and all good omens seemed to usher in the dawn of the day whose noontide cannot now be long in coming.If the colored people had taken hands and danced around the White House,with a few cheers for the much abused gentleman who has immortalized himself by one just act,no President could have had a finer levee,or one to be prouder of.
While these sights and sounds were going on without,curious scenes were passing within,and I was learning that one of the best methods of fitting oneself to be a nurse in a hospital,is to be a patient there;for then only can one wholly realize what the men suffer and sigh for;how acts of kindness touch and win;how much or little we are to those about us;and for the first time really see that in coming there we have taken our lives in our hands,and may have to pay dearly for a brief experience.
Every one was very kind;the attendants of my ward often came up to report progress,to fill my wood box,or bring messages and presents from my boys.
The nurses took many steps with those tired feet of theirs,and several came each evening,to chat over my fire and make things cozy for the night.
The doctors paid daily visits,tapped at my lungs to see if pneumonia was within,left doses without names,and went away,leaving me as ignorant,and much more uncomfortable than when they came.Hours began to get confused;people looked odd;queer faces haunted the room,and the nights were one long fight with weariness and pain.Letters from home grew anxious;the doctors lifted their eyebrows,and nodded ominously;friends said "Don't stay,"and an internal rebellion seconded the advice;but the three months were not out,and the idea of giving up so soon was proclaiming a defeat before I was fairly routed;so to all "Don't stays"I opposed "I wills,"till,one fine morning,a gray-headed gentleman rose like a welcome ghost on my hearth;and,at the sight of him,my resolution melted away,my heart turned traitor to my boys,and,when he said,"Come home,"I answered,"Yes,father;"and so ended my career as an army nurse.
I never shall regret the going,though a sharp tussle with typhoid,ten dollars,and a wig,are all the visible results of the experiment;for one may live and learn much in a month.A good fit of illness proves the value of health;real danger tries one's mettle;and self-sacrifice sweetens character.Let no one who sincerely desires to help the work on in this way,delay going through any fear;for the worth of life lies in the experiences that fill it,and this is one which cannot be forgotten.
All that is best and bravest in the hearts of men and women,comes out in scenes like these;and,though a hospital is a rough school,its lessons are both stern and salutary;and the humblest of pupils there,in proportion to his faithfulness,learns a deeper faith in God and in himself.I,for one,would return tomorrow,on the "up-again,-and-take-another "principle,if I could;for the amount of pleasure and profit I got out of that month compensates for all after pangs;and,though a sadly womanish feeling,I take some satisfaction in the thought that,if I could not lay my head on the altar of my country,I have my hair;and that is more than handsome Helen did for her dead husband,when she sacrificed only the ends of her ringlets on his urn.Therefore,I close this little chapter of hospital experiences,with the regret that they were no better worth recording;and add the poetical gem with.
Which I console myself for the untimely demise of "Nurse Periwinkle:"Oh,lay her in a little pit,With a marble stone to cover it;And carve thereon a gruel spoon,To show a "nuss"has died too soon.
