horrid imprecations upon the ears of the listeners, who never supposed the fearful tale could be true. Mrs. Tyler's friend offered the only extenuation possible-the man had “been on board the Alabama and was very bitter." But in Mrs. Tyler's memory that fearful deed is ever mingled with that fiendish face and speech.

The next day the Rebel Commissioner Mason, replying to some remarks of the American Minister, Mr. Adams, in the Times, took occasion most emphatically to deprecate the insinuation that the South had any knowledge of, or complicity in this crime.

MRS. WILLIAM H. HOLSTEIN.

T the opening of the war Mrs. Holstein was residing in a most pleasant and delightful country home at Upper Merion, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania.

In the words of one who knows and appreciates her well-"Mr. and Mrs. Holstein are people of considerable wealth, and unexceptionable social position, beloved and honored by all who know them, who voluntarily abandoned their beautiful home to live for years in camps and hospitals. Their own delicacy and modesty would forbid them to speak of the work they accomplished, and no one can ever know the greatness of its results."

As Mrs. Holstein was always accompanied by her husband, and this devoted pair were united in this great patriotic and kindly work, as in all the other cases, duties and pleasures of life, it would be almost impossible, even if it were necessary, to give any separate account of her services for the army. This is shown in the following extracts from a letter, probably not intended for publication, but which, in a spirit far removed from that of self-praise, gives an account of the motives and feelings which actuated her, and of the opening scenes of her public services.

"The story of my work, blended as it is, (and should be) so intimately with that of my husband, in his earnest wish to carry out what we felt to be simply a matter of duty, is like an 'oft told tale' not worth repeating. Like all other loyal women in

our land, at the first sound and threatening of war, there sprang up in my heart an uncontrollable impulse to do, to act; for anything but idleness when our country was in peril and her sons marching to battle.

"It seemed that the only help woman could give was in providing comforts for the sick and wounded, and to this, for a time, I gave my undivided attention. I felt sure there was work for me to do in this war; and when my mother would say 'I hope, my child, it will not be in the hospitals,'-my response was ever the same 'Wherever or whatever it may be, it shall be done with all my heart.'

"At length came the battle of Antietam, and from among us six ladies went to spend ten days in caring for the wounded. But craven-like, I shrank instinctively from such scenes, and declined to join the party. But when my husband returned from there, one week after the battle, relating such unheard of stories of suffering, and of the help that was needed, I hesitated no longer. In a few days we collected a car load of boxes, containing comforts and delicacies for the wounded, and had the satisfaction of taking them promptly to their destination.

"The first wounded and the first hospitals I saw I shall never forget, for then flashed across my mind, 'This is the work God has given you to do,' and the vow was made, 'While the war lasts we stand pledged to aid, as far as is in our power, the sick and suffering. We have no right to the comforts of our home, while so many of the noblest of our land so willingly renounce theirs.' The scenes of Antietam are graven as with an 'iron pen' upon my mind. The place ever recalls throngs of horribly wounded men strewn in every direction. So fearful it all looked to me then, that I thought the choking sobs and blinding tears would never admit of my being of any use. To suppress them, and to learn to be calm under all circumstances, was one of the hardest lessons the war taught.

"We gave up our sweet country home, and from that date

were 'dwellers in tents,' occupied usually in field hospitals, choosing that work because there was the greatest need, and knowing that while many were willing to work at home, but few could go to the front."

From that time, the early autumn of 1862, until July, 1865, Mrs. Holstein was constantly devoted to the work, not only in camps and hospitals, but in traveling from place to place and enlisting the more energetic aid of the people by lecturing and special appeals.

At Antietam Mrs. Holstein found the men she had come to care for, those brave, suffering men, lying scattered all over the field, in barns and sheds, under the shelter of trees and fences, in need of every comfort, but bearing their discomforts and pain without complaint or murmuring, and full of gratitude to those who had it in their power to do anything, ever so little, for their relief.

Here she encountered the most trying scenes- -a boy of seventeen crying always for his mother to come to him, or to be permitted to go to her, till the great stillness of death fell upon him; agonized wives seeking the remains of the lost, sorrowing relatives, of all degrees, some confirmed in their worst fears, some reassured and grateful-a constant succession of bewildering emotions, of hope, fear, sadness and joy.

The six ladies from her own town, were still for a long time busy in their work of mercy distributing freely, as they had been given, the supplies with which they had been provided. This was eminently a work of faith. Often the stores, of one, or of many kinds, would be exhausted, but in no instance did Providence fail to immediately replenish those most needed.

During the stay of Mr. and Mrs. Holstein in Sharpsburg, an ambulance was daily placed at their disposal, and they were continually going about with it and finding additional cases in need of every comfort. Supplies were continually sent from friends at home, and they remained until the wounded had all left save a

few who were retained at Smoketown and Locust Spring Hospitals.

While the army rested in the vicinity of Sharpsburg, scores of fever patients came pouring in, making a fearful addition to the hospital patients, and greatly adding to the mortality.

The party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Holstein and a friend of theirs, a lady, remained until their services were no longer required, and then, about the 1st of December, returned home. Busied in arrangement for the collection and forwarding of stores, and in making trips to Antietam, Harper's Ferry, and Frederick City, on similar business, the days wore away until the battle of Fredericksburg. Soon after this they went to Virginia, and entered the Second Corps Hospital near Falmouth. There in a Sibley tent whose only floor was of the branches of the pines-in that little Hospital on the bleak hill-side, the winter wore slowly away. The needful army movements had rendered the muddy roads impassable. No chaplain came to the camp until these roads were again in good order. Men sickened and died with no other religious services performed in their hearing than the simple reading of Scripture and prayers which Mrs. Holstein was in the habit of using for them, and which were always gladly listened to.

Just previous to the battle of Chancellorsville, Mrs. Holstein returned home for a few days, and was detained on coming back to her post by the difficulty of getting within the lines. She found the hospital moved some two miles from its former location, and that many of her former patients had died, or suffered much in the change. After the battle there was of course a great accession of wounded men. Some had lain long upon the field-one group for eleven days, with wounds undressed, and almost without food. The rebels, finding they did not die, reluctantly fed them with some of their miserable corn bread, and afterwards sent them within the Union lines.

The site of the hospital where Mrs. Holstein was now stationed, was very beautiful. The surgeon in charge had covered the sloping