She nursed Major Graves, General Breckin-
ridge's young chief of artillery when he was first
wounded, and when he was wounded a second
time and lay dying, he said he thought he would
recover if he could be taken to Mrs. Breckinridge.
  At the close of her life she would review those
days, and tell me how she had given my Father
and General Hanson coffee just before they went
into battle, and how she gave up her "last pair
of good scissors" to cut the boots off General
Hanson when he was brought to her in a dying
condition.
  She was mercifully spared the loss of husband
or sons in battle, though before the War was
over her husband was wounded and her oldest
son taken prisoner.
  There was one time during the War when it
looked as though her ministrations were over.
She was staying on a plantation near Tuskegee,
Alabama, with Mrs. GilvJohnson, when she
became so desperately ill with malarial fever
that her life was despaired of. Quinine was
scarce, and nothing fit for an invalid (except
goat's milk) to be had, till her doctor brought
her a little package of tea, which she treasured
like gold. As she lay there, worn out with fever
and starving for want of what in her condition
were the necessities of life, she said she could
hear the trains rolling by, carrying the Confeder-
ate wounded into Tuskegee. "And I couldn't
complain," she told me long years afterward,
"when I thought of the greater sufferings of our
men."
  When she seemed to be failing fast, Mrs. John-
son begged to be allowed to send for my Father,
but she refused, saying, "Not yet-if he left