My Dear S.: - As inquiries like your own have come to me fromvarious friendly readers of the Sketches, I will answer them enmasse and in printed form, as a sort of postscript to what hasgone before. One of these questions was, "Are there no servicesby hospital death-beds, or on Sundays?"

In most Hospitals I hope there are; in ours, the men died, andwere carried away, with as little ceremony as on a battle-field.The first event of this kind which I witnessed was so very brief,and bare of anything like reverence, sorrow, or piousconsolation, that I heartily agreed with the bluntly expressedopinion of a Maine man lying next his comrade, who died with novisible help near him, but a compassionate woman and a tender-hearted Irishman, who dropped upon his knees, and told his beads,with Catholic fervor, for the good of his Protestant brother'sparting soul:

"If, after gettin' all the hard knocks, we are left to die thisway, with nothing but a Paddy's prayers to help us, I guessChristians are rather scarce round Washington."

I thought so too; but though Miss Blank, one of my mates, anxiousthat souls should be ministered to, as well as bodies, spoke morethan once to the Chaplain, nothing ever came of it. Unlikeanother Shepherd, whose earnest piety weekly purified the SenateChamber, this man did not feed as well as fold his flock, normake himself a human symbol of the Divine Samaritan, who neverpasses by on the other side.

I have since learned that our non-committal Chaplain had been aProfessor in some Southern College; and, though he maintainedthat he had no secesh proclivities, I can testify that he secededfrom his ministerial duties, I may say, skedaddled; for, beingone of his own words, it is as appropriate as inelegant. He readEmerson, quoted Carlyle, and tried to be a Chaplain; but judgingfrom his success, I am afraid he still hankered after the hominypots of Rebeldom.

Occasionally, on a Sunday afternoon, such of the nurses,officers, attendants, and patients as could avail themselves ofit, were gathered in the Ball Room, for an hour's service, ofwhich the singing was the better part. To me it seemed that ifever strong, wise, and loving words were needed, it was then; ifever mortal man had living texts before his eyes to illustrateand illuminate his thought, it was there; and if ever hearts wereprompted to devoutest self-abnegation, it was in the work whichbrought us to anything but a Chapel of Ease. But some spiritualparalysis seemed to have befallen our pastor; for, though manyfaces turned toward him, full of the dumb hunger that often comesto men when suffering or danger brings then nearer to the heartof things, they were offered the chaff of divinity, and its wheatwas left for less needy gleaners, who knew where to look. Eventhe fine old Bible stories, which may be made as lifelike as anyhistory of our day, by a vivid fancy and pictorial diction, wererobbed of all their charms by dry explanations and literalapplications, instead of being useful and pleasant lessons tothose men, whom weakness had rendered as docile as children in afather's hands.

I watched the listless countenances all about me, while a mildDaniel was moralizing in a den of utterly uninteresting lions;while Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego were leisurely passingthrough the fiery furnace, where, I sadly feared, some of ussincerely wished they had remained as permanencies; while theTemple of Solomon was laboriously erected, with minutedescriptions of the process, and any quantity of bells andpomegranates on the raiment of the priests. Listless they were atthe beginning, and listless at the end; but the instant somestirring old hymn was given out, sleepy eyes brightened, loungingfigures sat erect, and many a poor lad rose up in his bed, orstretch an eager hand for the book, while all broke out with aheartiness that proved that somewhere at the core of even themost abandoned, there still glowed some remnant of the nativepiety that flows in music from the heart of every little child.Even the big rebel joined, and boomed away in a thunderous bass,singing -

as energetically as if he felt the need of a speedy execution ofthe command.

That was the pleasantest moment of the hour, for then it seemed ahomelike and happy spot; the groups of men looking over oneanother's shoulders as they sang; the few silent figures in thebeds; here and there a woman noiselessly performing somenecessary duty, and singing as she worked; while in the arm chairstanding in the midst, I placed, for my own satisfaction, theimaginary likeness of a certain faithful pastor, who took alloutcasts by the hand, smote the devil in whatever guise he came,and comforted the indigent in spirit with the best wisdom of agreat and tender heart, which still speaks to us from its Italiangrave. With that addition, my picture was complete; and I oftenlonged to take a veritable sketch of a Hospital Sunday, for,despite its drawbacks, consisting of continued labor, the want ofproper books, the barren preaching that bore no fruit, this daywas never like the other six.

True to their home training, our New England boys did their bestto make it what it should be. With many, there was much readingof Testaments, humming over of favorite hymns, and looking atsuch books as I could cull from a miscellaneous library. Some layidle, slept, or gossiped; yet, when I came to them for a quietevening chat, they often talked freely and well of themselves;would blunder out some timid hope that their troubles might "do'em good, and keep 'em stiddy;" would choke a little, as theysaid good night, and turned their faces to the wall to think ofmother, wife, or home, these human ties seeming to be the mostvital religion which they yet knew. I observed that some of themdid not wear their caps on this day, though at other times theyclung to them like Quakers; wearing them in bed, putting them onto read the paper, eat an apple, or write a letter, as if, like anew sort of Samson, their strength lay, not in their hair, but intheir hats. Many read no novels, swore less, were more silent,orderly, and cheerful, as if the Lord were an invisibleWardmaster, who went his rounds but once a week, and must findall things at their best. I liked all this in the poor, roughboys, and could have found it in my heart to put down sponge andtea-pot, and preach a little sermon then and there, whilehomesickness and pain had made these natures soft, that some goodseed might be cast therein, to blossom and bear fruit here orhereafter.

Regarding the admission of friends to nurse their sick, I canonly say, it was not allowed at Hurly-burly House; though oneindomitable parent took my ward by storm, and held her position,in spite of doctors, matron, and Nurse Periwinkle. Though it wasagainst the rules, though the culprit was an acid, frost-bittenfemale, though the young man would have done quite as wellwithout her anxious fussiness, and the whole room-full been muchmore comfortable, there was something so irresistible in thispersistent devotion, that no one had the heart to oust her fromher post. She slept on the floor, without uttering a complaint;bore jokes somewhat of the rudest; fared scantily, though herbasket was daily filled with luxuries for her boy; and tendedthat petulant personage with a never-failing patience beautifulto see.

I feel a glow of moral rectitude in saying this of her; for,though a perfect pelican to her young, she pecked and cackled (Idon't know that pelicans usually express their emotions in thatmanner,) most obstreperously, when others invaded her premises;and led me a weary life, with "George's tea-rusks," "George'sfoot bath," "George's measles," and "George's mother;" till aftera sharp passage of arms and tongues with the matron, shewrathfully packed up her rusks, her son, and herself, anddeparted, in an ambulance, scolding to the very last.

This is the comic side of the matter. The serious one is harderto describe; for the presence, however brief, of relations andfriends by the bedside of the dead or dying, is always a trial tothe bystanders. They are not near enough to know how best tocomfort, yet too near to turn their backs upon the sorrow thatfinds its only solace in listening to recitals of last words,breathed into nurse's ears, or receiving the tender legacies oflove and longing bequeathed through them.

To me, the saddest sight I saw in that sad place, was thespectacle of a grey-haired father, sitting hour after hour by hisson, dying from the poison of his wound. The old father, hale andhearty; the young son, past all help, though one could scarcelybelieve it; for the subtle fever, burning his strength away,flushed his cheeks with color, filled his eyes with lustre, andlent a mournful mockery of health to face and figure, making thepoor lad comelier in death than in life. His bed was not in myward; but I was often in and out, and for a day or two, the pairwere much together, saying little, but looking much. The old mantried to busy himself with book or pen, that his presence mightnot be a burden; and once when he sat writing, to the anxiousmother at home, doubtless, I saw the son's eyes fix upon hisface, with a look of mingled resignation and regret, as ifendeavoring to teach himself to say cheerfully the long good bye.And again, when the son slept, the father watched him as he hadhimself been watched; and though no feature of his gravecountenance changed, the rough hand, smoothing the lock of hairupon the pillow, the bowed attitude of the grey head, were morepathetic than the loudest lamentations. The son died; and thefather took home the pale relic of the life he gave, offering alittle money to the nurse, as the only visible return it was inhis power to make her; for though very grateful, he was poor. Ofcourse, she did not take it, but found a richer compensation inthe old man's earnest declaration:

"My boy couldn't have been better cared for if he'd been at home;and God will reward you for it, though I can't."

My own experiences of this sort began when my first man died. Hehad scarcely been removed, when his wife came in. Her eye wentstraight to the well-known bed; it was empty; and feeling, yetnot believing the hard truth, she cried out, with a look I nevershall forget:

"Why, where's Emanuel?"

I had never seen her before, did not know her relationship to theman whom I had only nursed for a day, and was about to tell herhe was gone, when McGee, the tender-hearted Irishman beforementioned, brushed by me with a cheerful - "It's shifted to abetter bed he is, Mrs. Connel. Come out, dear, till I show ye;"and, taking her gently by the arm, he led her to the matron, whobroke the heavy tidings to the wife, and comforted the widow.

Another day, running up to my room for a breath of fresh air anda five minutes rest after a disagreeable task, I found a stoutyoung woman sitting on my bed, wearing the miserable look which Ihad learned to know by that time. Seeing her, reminded me that Ihad heard of some one's dying in the night, and his sister'sarriving in the morning. This must be she, I thought. I pitiedher with all my heart. What could I say or do? Words always seemimpertinent at such times; I did not know the man; the woman wasneither interesting in herself nor graceful in her grief; yet,having known a sister's sorrow myself, I could have not leave heralone with her trouble in that strange place, without a word. So,feeling heart-sick, home-sick, and not knowing what else to do, Ijust put my arms about her, and began to cry in a very helplessbut hearty way; for, as I seldom indulge in this moist luxury, Ilike to enjoy it with all my might, when I do.

It so happened I could not have done a better thing; for, thoughnot a word was spoken, each felt the other's sympathy; and, inthe silence, our handkerchiefs were more eloquent than words. Shesoon sobbed herself quiet; and leaving her on my bed, I went backto work, feeling much refreshed by the shower, though I'dforgotten to rest, and had washed my face instead of my hands. Imention this successful experience as a receipt proved andapproved, for the use of any nurse who may find herself calledupon to minister to these wounds of the heart. They will find itmore efficacious than cups of tea, smelling-bottles, psalms, orsermons; for a friendly touch and a companionable cry, unite theconsolations of all the rest for womankind; and, if genuine, willbe found a sovereign cure for the first sharp pang so many sufferin these heavy times.

I am gratified to find that my little Sergeant has found favor inseveral quarters, and gladly respond to sundry calls for news ofhim, though my personal knowledge ended five months ago. Next tomy good John - I hope the grass is green above him, far away therein Virginia! - I placed the Sergeant on my list of worthy boys; andmany jovial chat have I enjoyed with the merry-hearted lad, whohad a fancy for fun, when his poor arm was dressed. While Dr. P.poked and strapped, I brushed the remains of the Sergeant's brownmane - shorn sorely against his will - and gossiped with all mymight, the boy making odd faces, exclamations, and appeals, whennerves got the better of nonsense, as they sometimes did:

"I'd rather laugh than cry, when I must sing out anyhow, so justsay that bit from Dickens again, please, and I'll stand it like aman." He did; for "Mrs. Cluppins," "Chadband," and "Sam Weller,"always helped him through; thereby causing me to lay anotheroffering of love and admiration on the shrine of the god of myidolatry, though he does wear too much jewelry and talk slang.

The Sergeant also originated, I believe, the fashion of callinghis neighbors by their afflictions instead of their names; and Iwas rather taken aback by hearing them bandy remarks of thissort, with perfect good humor and much enjoyment of the new game.

"Hallo, old Fits is off again!" "How are you, Rheumatiz?" "Willyou trade apples, Ribs?" "I say, Miss P. may I give Typus a drinkof this?" "Look here, No Toes, lend us a stamp, there's a goodfeller," etc. He himself was christened "Baby B.," because hetended his arm on a little pillow, and called it his infant.

Very fussy about his grub was Sergeant B., and much trotting ofattendants was necessary when he partook of nourishment. Anythingmore irresistibly wheedlesome I never saw, and constantly foundmyself indulging him, like the most weak-minded parent, merelyfor the pleasure of seeing his blue eyes twinkle, his merry mouthbreak into a smile, and his one hand execute a jaunty littlesalute that was entirely captivating. I am afraid that Nurse P.damaged her dignity, frolicking with this persuasive younggentleman, though done for his well being. But "boys will beboys," is perfectly applicable to the case; for, in spite ofyears, sex and the "prunes-and-prisms" doctrine laid down for ouruse, I have a fellow feeling for lads, and always owed Fate agrudge because I wasn't a lord of creation instead of a lady.

Since I left, I have heard, from a reliable source, that mySergeant has gone home; therefore, the small romance that buddedthe first day I saw him, has blossomed into its second chapter,and I now imagine "dearest Jane" filling my place, tending thewounds I tended, brushing the curly jungle I brushed, loving theexcellent little youth I loved, and eventually walking altarward,with the Sergeant stumping gallantly at her side. If she doesn'tdo all this, and no end more, I'll never forgive her; andsincerely pray to the guardian saint of lovers, that "Baby B."may prosper in his wooing, and his name be long in the land.

One of the lively episodes of hospital life, is the frequentmarching away of such as are well enough to rejoin theirregiments, or betake themselves to some convalescent camp. Theward master comes to the door of each room that is to be thinned,reads off a list of names, bids their owners look sharp and beready when called for; and, as he vanishes, the rooms fall intoan indescribable state of topsy-turvyness, as the boys begin toblack their boots, brighten spurs, if they have them, overhaulknapsacks, make presents; are fitted out with needfuls, and - well,why not? - kissed sometimes, as they say, good-bye; for in allhuman probability we shall never meet again, and a woman's heartyearns over anything that has clung to her for help and comfort.I never liked these breakings-up of my little household: thoughmy short stay showed me but three. I was immensely gratified bythe hand shakes I got, for their somewhat painful cordialityassured me that I had not tried in vain. The big Prussian rumbledout his unintelligible adieux, with a grateful face and apremonitory smooth of his yellow mustache, but got no farther,for some one else stepped up, with a large brown hand extended,and this recommendation of our very faulty establishment:

"We're off, ma'am, and I'm powerful sorry, for I'd no idea a'orspittle was such a jolly place. Hope I'll git another ballsomewheres easy, so I'll come back, and be took care on again.Mean, ain't it?"

I didn't think so, but the doctrine of inglorious ease was notthe right one to preach up, so I tried to look shocked, failedsignally, and consoled myself by giving him the fat pincushion hehad admired as the "cutest little machine agoin." Then they fellinto line in front of the house, looking rather wan and feeble,some of them, but trying to step out smartly and march in goodorder, though half the knapsacks were carried by the guard, andseveral leaned on sticks instead of shouldering guns. All lookedup and smiled, or waved heir hands and touched their caps, asthey passed under our windows down the long street, and so away,some to their homes in this world, and some to that in the next;and, for the rest of the day, I felt like Rachel mourning for herchildren, when I saw the empty beds and missed the familiarfaces.

You ask if nurses are obliged to witness amputations and suchmatters, as a part of their duty? I think not, unless they wish;for the patient is under the effects of ether, and needs no carebut such as the surgeons can best give. Our work beginsafterward, when the poor soul comes to himself, sick, faint, andwandering; full of strange pains and confused visions, ofdisagreeable sensations and sights. Then we must sooth andsustain, tend and watch; preaching and practicing patience, tillsleep and time have restored courage and self-control.

I witnessed several operations; for the height of my ambition wasto go to the front after a battle, and feeling that the sooner Iinured myself to trying sights, the more useful I should be.Several of my mates shrunk from such things; for though thespirit was wholly willing, the flesh was inconveniently weak. Onefunereal lady came to try her powers as a nurse; but, a briefconversation eliciting the facts that she fainted at the sight ofblood, was afraid to watch alone, couldn't possibly take care ofdelirious persons, was nervous about infections, and unable tobear much fatigue, she was mildly dismissed. I hope she found hersphere, but fancy a comfortable bandbox on a high shelf wouldbest meet the requirements of her case.

Dr. Z. suggested that I should witness a dissection; but I neveraccepted his invitations, thinking that my nerves belonged to theliving, not to the dead, and I had better finish my education asa nurse before I began that of a surgeon. But I never met thelittle man skipping through the hall, with oddly shaped cases inhis hand, and an absorbed expression of countenance, withoutbeing sure that a select party of surgeons were at work in thedead house, which idea was a rather trying one, when I knew thesubject was some person whom I had nursed and cared for.

But this must not lead any one to suppose that the surgeons werewillfully hard or cruel, though one of them remorsefully confidedto me that he feared his profession blunted his sensibilities,and perhaps, rendered him indifferent to the sight of pain.

I am inclined to think that in some cases it does; for, though acapital surgeon and a kindly man, Dr. P., through longacquaintance with many of the ills flesh is heir to, had acquireda somewhat trying habit of regarding a man and his wound asseparate institutions, and seemed rather annoyed that the formershould express any opinion upon the latter, or claim any right init, while under his care. He had a way of twitching off abandage, and giving a limb a comprehensive sort of clutch, whichthough no doubt entirely scientific, was rather startling thansoothing, and highly objectionable as a means of preparing nervesfor any fresh trial. He also expected the patient to assist insmall operations, as he considered them, and to restrain alldemonstrations during the process.

"Here, my man, just hold it this way, while I look into it abit," he said one day to Fitz G., putting a wounded arm into thekeeping of a sound one, and proceeding to poke about among bitsof bone and visible muscles, in a red and black chasm made bysome infernal machine of the shot or shell description. Poor Fitzheld on like a grim Death, ashamed to show fear before a woman,till it grew more than he could bear in silence; and, after a fewsmothered groans, he looked at me imploringly, as if he said, "Iwouldn't, ma'am, if I could help it," and fainted quietly away.

Dr. P. looked up, gave a compassionate sort of cluck, and pokedaway more busily than ever, with a nod at me and a brief - "Nevermind; be so good as to hold this till I finish."

I obeyed, cherishing the while a strong desire to insinuate a fewof his own disagreeable knives and scissors into him, and see howhe liked it. A very disrespectful and ridiculous fancy of course;for he was doing all that could be done, and the arm prosperedfinely in his hands. But the human mind is prone to prejudice;and though a personable man, speaking French like a born "Parleyvoo," and whipping off legs like an animated guillotine, I mustconfess to a sense of relief when he was ordered elsewhere; andsuspect that several of the men would have faced a rebel batterywith less trepidation than they did Dr. P., when he came brisklyin on his morning round.

As if to give us the pleasures of contrast, Dr. Z. succeeded him,who, I think, suffered more in giving pain than did his patientsin enduring it; for he often paused to ask: "Do I hurt you?" andseeing his solicitude, the boys invariably answered: "Not much;go ahead, Doctor," though the lips that uttered this amiable fibmight be white with pain as they spoke. Over the dressing of someof the wounds, we used to carry on conversations upon subjectsforeign to the work in hand, that the patient might forgethimself in the charms of our discourse. Christmas eve was spentin this way; the Doctor strapping the little Sergeant's arm, Iholding the lamp, while all three laughed and talked, as ifanywhere but in a hospital ward; except when the chat was brokenby a long-drawn "Oh!" from "Baby B.," an abrupt request from theDoctor to "Hold the lamp a little higher, please," or anencouraging, "Most through, Sergeant," from Nurse P.

The chief Surgeon, Dr. O., I was told, refused the higher salary,greater honor, and less labor, of an appointment to the Officer'sHospital, round the corner, that he might serve the poor fellowsat Hurly-burly House, or go to the front, working there day andnight, among the horrors that succeed the glories of a battle. Iliked that so much, that the quiet, brown-eyed Doctor was myespecial admiration; and when my own turn came, had more faith inhim than in all the rest put together, although he did advise meto go home, and authorize the consumption of blue pills.

Speaking of the surgeons reminds me that, having found all mannerof fault, it becomes me to celebrate the redeeming feature ofHurly-burly House. I had been prepared by the accounts of others,to expect much humiliation of spirit from the surgeons, and to betreated by them like a door-mat, a worm, or any other meek andlowly article, whose mission it is to be put down and walkedupon; nurses being considered as mere servants, receiving thelowest pay, and, it's my private opinion, doing the hardest workof any part of the army, except the mules. Great, therefore, wasmy surprise, when I found myself treated with the utmost courtesyand kindness. Very soon my carefully prepared meekness was laidupon the shelf; and, going from one extreme to the other, I morethan once expressed a difference of opinion regarding sundrymesses it was my painful duty to administer.

As eight of us nurses chanced to be off duty at once, we had anexcellent opportunity of trying the virtues of these gentlemen;and I am bound to say they stood the test admirably, as far as mypersonal observation went. Dr. O.'s stethoscope was unremittingin its attentions; Dr. S. brought his buttons into my room twicea day, with the regularity of a medical clock; while Dr. Z.filled my table with neat little bottles, which I never emptied,prescribed Browning, bedewed me with Cologne, and kept my firegoing, as if, like the candles in St. Peter's, it must never bepermitted to die out. Waking, one cold night, with the certaintythat my last spark had pined away and died, and consequentlyhours of coughing were in store for me, I was amazed to see aruddy light dancing on the wall, a jolly blaze roaring up thechimney, and, down upon his knees before it, Dr. Z., whittlingshavings. I ought to have risen up and thanked him on the spot;but, knowing that he was one of those who like to do good bystealth, I only peeped at him as if he were a friendly ghost;till, having made things as cozy as the most motherly of nursescould have done, he crept away, leaving me to feel, as somebodysays, "as if angels were a watching of me in my sleep;" thoughthat species of wild fowl do not usually descend in broadclothand glasses. I afterwards discovered that he split the woodhimself on that cool January midnight, and went about making ormending fires for the poor old ladies in their dismal dens; thuscausing himself to be felt - a bright and shining light in moreways than one. I never thanked him as I ought; therefore, Ipublicly make a note of it, and further aggravate that modestM.D. by saying that if this was not being the best of doctors andthe gentlest of gentlemen, I shall be happy to see anyimprovement upon it.

To such as wish to know where these scenes took place, I mustrespectfully decline to answer; for Hurly-burly House has ceasedto exist as a hospital; so let it rest, with all its sins uponits head, - perhaps I should say chimney top. When the nurses feltill, the doctors departed, and the patients got well, I believethe concern gently faded from existence, or was merged into someother and better establishment, where I hope the washing of threehundred sick people is done out of the house, the food iseatable, and mortal women are not expected to possess an angelicexemption from all wants, and the endurance of truck horses.

Since the appearance of these hasty Sketches, I have heard fromseveral of my comrades at the Hospital; and their approvalassures me that I have not let sympathy and fancy run away withme, as that lively team is apt to do when harnessed to a pen. Asno two persons see the same thing with the same eyes, my view ofhospital life must be taken through my glass, and held for whatit is worth. Certainly, nothing was set down in malice, and tothe serious-minded party who objected to a tone of levity in someportions of the Sketches, I can only say that it is a part of myreligion to look well after the cheerfulnesses of life, and letthe dismals shift for themselves; believing, with good Sir ThomasMore, that it is wise to "be merrie in God."

The next hospital I enter will, I hope, be one for the coloredregiments, as they seem to be proving their right to theadmiration and kind offices of their white relations, who owethem so large a debt, a little part of which I shall be so proudto pay.

Yours,With a firm faithIn the good time coming,TRIBULATION PERIWINKLE.