[297] large rocking-chair, kindly donated by a lady of Ringgold, Georgia, boxes served for chairs. A couch made of boxes and piled with comforts and pillows stood in one corner. This served not only as an occasional resting-place for the matron, but, with the arm-chair, was frequently occupied by soldiers who, in the early stages of convalescence, having made a pilgrimage to my room, were too weak to return at once, and so rested awhile.
Here I sat on the morning in question looking over some ‘diet lists,’ when I heard a slight noise at the door. Soon a little girl edged her way into the room.
Her dress was plain and faded, but when she pushed back the calico sun-bonnet a sweet, bright face appeared. She came forward as shyly as a little bird and stood at my side. As I put out my hand to draw her close, she cried, ‘Don't, you'll scare him!’
And then I perceived that she held close to her breast, wrapped in her check apron, something that moved and trembled. Carefully the little girl removed a corner of the apron, disclosing the gray head and frightened eyes of a squirrel. Said she, ‘It's Bunny; he's mine; I raised him, and I want to give him to the sick soldiers I Daddy's a soldier!’ And as she stated this last fact the sweet face took on a look of pride.
‘What is your name, and how did you get here?’ I said.
‘My name is Ca-line. Uncle Jack, he brung in a load of truck, and mammy let me come along, an‘ I didn't have nothing to fetch to the poor soldiers but Bunny. He's mine,’ she repeated, as she tenderly covered again the trembling little creature. I soon found that she desired to give the squirrel away with her own bands, and did not by any means consider me a sick soldier. That she should visit the fever-wards was out of the question, so I decided to go with her to a ward
