More than a year ago I conceived the idea of writing
a history of the work of my husband, Dr. W. H. Hopson.
I did not at first think of publishing it, but it grew upon
my hands until it became a book. It served to while
away many a weary hour of the patient invalid, whose
life lies wholly in the past.
By the advice of brethren who have published books,
I have endeavored to condense as much as possible. I
have left out many incidents and the names of hundreds
of loved friends, for want of space. One request the
Doctor made, that I should not put anything upon record
that would convey a censure to any human being, or leave
an impression in the mind of any one that he had a feel-
ing of enmity in his heart toward any.
If the book is full of imperfections, and does not
meet the expectations of friends, they will remember it
was written by a nurse in a sick-room, with constant in-
terruption to wait on the loved invalid, and often with a
heart full of unshed tears. Then do not judge too crit-
ically. I have left much of his beautiful, sacrificing life
for others to portray, and thank them from my heart for
their loving and comforting letters, appended in the book.