Summary

William E. Barton The Life of Clara Barton, Founder of the American Red Cross… (1922)

The first sound which fell upon my ear in this Department was the thunder of our guns in Charleston Harbor, and still the proud city sits like a queen and dictates terms to our army and navy. Sumter, the watch-dog that lay before her door, fell, maimed and bleeding, it is true; still there is defiance in his growl, and death in his bite, and pierced and prostrate as he lies with the tidal waves lapping his wounds, it were worth our lives, and more than his, to go and take him.
Source: Gutenberg

William E. Barton The Life of Clara Barton, Founder of the American Red Cross… (1922)

Here in the sunshine and dust and toil and confusion of camp life, the mercury above a hundred, the atmosphere and everything about black with flies, the dust rolling away in clouds as far as the eye can penetrate, the ashy ground covered with scores of hospital tents shielding nearly all conceivable maladies that soldier “flesh” is heir to, and stretching on beyond the miles of bristling fortifications, entrenchments, and batteries encircling Petersburg,—all ready to blaze,—just here in the midst of all this your refreshing letter dropped in upon me.
Source: Gutenberg

William E. Barton The Life of Clara Barton, Founder of the American Red Cross… (1922)

This was my riding-school. I never had any other, but it served me well. To this day my seat on a saddle or on the back of a horse is as secure and tireless as in a rocking-chair, and far more pleasurable. Sometimes, in later years, when I found myself suddenly on a strange horse in a trooper’s saddle, flying for life or liberty in front of pursuit, I blessed the baby lessons of the wild gallops among the beautiful colts.
One of the bravest of women, Clara Barton was a child of unusual timidity.
Source: Gutenberg

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