Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

March 21.—In a package of letters I have just received from a friend in England, she says they have still great hopes of our success, and that the people sympathize a great deal with us. I wish they would show it differently from what they do. But we are told that the people are very anxious to recognize us, but the government seems determined not to do it. I trust we shall get along without the aid of any foreign power, though I think the colonies would have done very little without it. She also says she envies me the opportunity I have in administering to the wants of the suffering of our army.

March 20.—General Johnston has gone to Mississippi to take command of that department. I believe General Bragg is commander-in-chief of the department in Tennessee. I have been informed that the morning before the ball given to General Johnston he had important business in Atlanta. I have also been told he does not approve of such things at this time.

I paid a visit a day or two ago to Mrs. Newsom, accompanied by Dr. William Hughes; on our way there we met Major Morgan, a brother of the general. He had just returned from visiting his mother in Kentucky, and was on his way to join his brother-in-law, General Hill, in Virginia. He is not unlike his brother, J. M. I told him I was afraid the latter would carry his daring too far. He replied, he had no fears on that score, and especially now since he is married, as on his wife’s account he would likely be more cautious.

We found Mrs. N., for a wonder, at leisure; her hospital is a very fine one; it is on top of a very high hill, commanding a view of the whole town. After we left her I went in search of milk, as that is the cry I hear from morning till night among the patients. I believe, if we could get plenty of it, we would scarcely need any thing else. I have the promise of a little every day.

April 16.—We have had trouble in the wash-house; some one told Dr. Patterson that the three girls who came from Mobile had been dancing with some negroes, and that last Sunday they walked to the graveyard with one.

The first I have been told is positively a falsehood; the second, I had heard before. When told of it, I laughed, and said I expected it was another case of “Dame Blaize,” “whom the king himself did follow as she walked on before.” I suppose the girls were walking, and the negro happened to be going the same road; as I feel confident, from what I have seen of them, they would not knowingly do a wrong of that kind. Dr. P. had dismissed them. When I told him I did not believe any of the stories, he said he sent them off out of respect to the ladies in the hospital, and if we wished he would countermand the order. The girls were sent back, but in a little while came and told me that one of the non-commissioned officers in the hospital had gone into the wash-house, and spoken insultingly to them on the subject. I sent for Dr. P. and told him the circumstance; he was very angry, and said he would dismiss the man, as he would have no one in the hospital who did not behave properly. These are a few of the trials of hospital life, and I think they are serious ones; but I feel sure we shall have no more trouble on that score, as Dr. P. will not permit it.

Miss G.’s health has been so feeble that she has been compelled to leave for home; she left yesterday; I went as far as Atlanta with her. Dr. O’Neal, an assistant surgeon of the Gilmer Hospital, accompanied us. He gave me an account of the death of Captain De Graffenread, the Tennessean.

He had been moved to the Gilmer Hospital, as it belongs to Polk’s corps; he died very suddenly; a blood-vessel ruptured, and alarmed him so much that Dr. O’Neal thinks he died from fright. He was about fifty years of age. From all I have been told, I do not expect we had a braver man in the army; his men fairly idolized him, and the negro servant who nursed him cried like a child when he informed me of his death. His sister and brother-in-law came to see him; but too late, as he was dead and buried before they reached here. I have been told that they were indignant at his treatment in our hospital. They said: “To think that a man of his means should have been kept in a ward like any other soldier!” If they had come to me about him, I should have informed them, I was certain he was too good a soldier to have wished to be any place else. His own people could not have taken better care of him than he had from every one here. He had the best of medical attention, and as his case was a bad one, I prepared his food myself. He got the very best of what we had in the hospital—which was a good deal, as at that time we had the box of things sent from Mobile. Poor fellow! all these things do not trouble him now. He was not religious. “Leaving his sins to his Savior,” let us think of him only as the hero he was.

“Then on rapturous bosoms let gratitude swell,

For this son of renown, who so gloriously fell,

And while fancy leads on to his cold, hallowed grave,

We shall echo a sigh to the manes of the brave.”

Dr. O’Neal met with a lady and gentleman going to Mobile, who kindly consented to take charge of Miss G. We put up at a hotel; I do not know its name. We remained there about two hours, for which we paid one dollar each.

In the cars, on my way back, I met a Mr. Pritchard from New Orleans. He related some of his trials before being sent out of that city. He also told me about a dinner given in Montreal, Canada, and that at it President Davis, Generals Lee and Jackson, had been highly complimented. I wonder the people there are not afraid to commit such a breach of international law!

Mrs. Dr. Turner was on the train, going to pay her husband another visit. She had just come from Alabama. She told me her brother had never got his coat and shawl from the Trout House. We met Colonel McNair of the Fourth Mississippi Cavalry. He had just come from Mississippi.

The cars were loaded with troops from Mobile, going to reinforce Bragg; among them were some Georgia regiments; their relatives were at the different depots to meet and take a look at them before they went up to the army. The banks all the way along were lined with ladies, waving their handkerchiefs, and throwing bouquets to the soldiers, greeting them with much enthusiasm, which the soldiers seemed to appreciate by cheering the ladies in return.

I was informed that the Thirty-sixth and Thirty-eighth Alabama Regiments were on the train; as I had some friends in them, I tried to see them, but failed; the train they were on stopped a half mile from the depot, so I was unable to see them at that time.

I noticed the country through which we passed was barren and poor-looking, and the people had a sickly appearance.

March 16.—Our hospital has been divided; one division is called the Gilmer Hospital, in honor of Mrs. Gilmer, who is matron. There are now four hospitals in this place: the Academy, of which Dr. Hawthorne is chief surgeon, and Mrs. Newsom matron; the Foard, of which Mrs. Crocker of Mobile is matron, and Dr. Thornton surgeon; the Gilmer, of which Dr. Michelle is surgeon and Mrs. G. matron; and our own, the Newsom.

Dr. Hunter has divided the money he received from Mobile between those hospitals, giving each one hundred dollars, keeping two for the Newsom, which is twice the size of the others; we have accommodations for five hundred patients.

March 10.—We have just received a box full of good things, from the Hebrew Military Aid Society in Mobile; preserves, sardines, wines, oysters, spices, and also twenty-four pairs of socks; we also received five hundred dollars, sent by Daniel Wheeler, Esq., from the Richmond fund in Mobile, all of which is most acceptable.

1 received a letter a few days ago from Mr. Ellman, president of the Hebrew Military Aid Society, with a list of the articles in the box, informing me of its having been sent. I had told some of the patients what they might expect, and they have been anxiously looking for the arrival of the box. I have an invitation to a grand ball, to be given in honor of General Johnston, our commander-in-chief; of course I have no idea of accepting.

Mrs.W. and I live like Sisters of Charity; we get up in the morning about 4 o’clock, and breakfast by candle-light, which meal consists of real coffee without milk, but sugar, hash, and bread; we eat it in our room. Unless we get up early, we find it impossible to get through with our duties. Mrs. W. prepares toddies and egg-nogs; I see that the delicacies for the sick are properly prepared. After the duties of the day are over, we then write letters for the men, telling their relations they are here, or informing them of their decease; other times mending some little articles for them. Mrs. W. is up many a night till 12 o’clock, working for her “dear boys,” as she calls them.

We have a very nice set of men as cooks, who will not let us do any thing for ourselves, if they can help it. They make our fires, and bring us wood and water; in fact, we want for nothing they can procure for us. In the language of Mrs. W., I say, “God bless them all.” Our head cook is a young man about nineteen, by the name of Gordon Halford; he was very sick when he first came here; we paid him some little attention, and he is so grateful that he seems to think he can never repay us; he is a perfect treasure. We have another one, who is now quite sick, whose name is Allen; he is one of John Morgan’s squadron, and the best of men. I can scarcely keep from laughing when I see him standing by the stove, turning batter-cakes; he is so tall. There is also a Mr. Drew, who came here sick; these men are serving their country as effectually as if they were in the field, and much better, for they could not stand field service; they get many a sneer for being here, but people who do what they feel to be their duty need not mind that.

The great trouble about hospitals is the sameness of the diet; in the morning we have batter-cakes made of the mush left from the previous meal, rice, and stale bread, (I do not mean what the men leave, as nothing is used which has been in the wards,) hash made out of the soup-meat, toast, mush, milk, tea, coffee, and beefsteak. Our batter-cakes never have eggs in them; they have a little flour and soda, and are very nice. For dinner, we have and chicken soup, potatoes, rice, dried fruit, and for dessert a luxurious baked pudding, made of the same materials as the battercakes, with molasses for sweetening, with the addition of spices. For each meal we have what is called special diet, for the worst cases sometimes, as is specially ordered by the surgeons, and others whatever we can get the patient to eat; it generally consists of light diet, such as chicken and beef-tea, arrow-root, sago, boiled milk thickened with flour, milk, tea, and toast. We get a good deal of milk and eggs now. For supper we have dried fruit, toast, tea, and coffee.

Our kitchen is a nice one; it has a distributing room next to it. Our quartermaster, Captain Gribble, is very kind in supplying us with as many dishes as we want.

There is a large kitchen and convalescent dining-room down-stairs, and an officer’s table, in a room by itself. The diet of the latter is the same as that of privates; the diet is far from being what it ought to be, but it is the best that can be had. We have trouble in keeping tableware, no matter how closely it is watched; soldiers will carry it off; they seem to think that government property is theirs, and they have a right to take it whenever they please. We lose dozens of spoons, cups, plates, knives, and forks in this way. On the tables for the convalescents we have table covers, although I prefer a wellscoured bare table; but the surgeons wish to make the hospital as much like home as possible.

There is one department in which I think there could be a great improvement—the laundry. When the men come in, their clothes are taken off and clean ones put on; their dirty ones are put in their haversacks, just as they are when taken off. When the men leave to go to another hospital, their soiled ones are put on again. I told Dr. Hunter I did not think it was right; he replied, it could not be avoided, as hundreds are coming and going daily. The fact is, it is almost impossible to get people to do washing.

March 9.—Yesterday was a very warm day. Just before sunset we had one of the most terrific hail-storms I have ever seen; some of the hail-stones were the size of a hen’s egg. It broke nearly all of our windows on the west side of the house. It only lasted a few minutes. Had it been of much longer duration, I think the house would have fallen, as the rain poured through the windows in torrents, and would have swept all with it. We had a number of very sick men, and did what we could to have them cared for. Mrs. W. went up-stairs to see after the men there, and found Mr. Murray, a nurse, trying to hold in one of the window-sashes; all the glass being broken, the rain and hail poured right down on him. One of the patients, who we thought was dying, was lying so that he had the full benefit of the storm. Mrs. W., in her haste to save him from being drowned on dry land, gave his bunk a pull, and down came bunk, man, and all on the floor. Poor Mrs. W. thought she had killed him, and it gave her such a fright that she ran and left him. Much to the surprise of all, he has taken a turn for the better. None of the men are any the worse.

They get plenty of fresh air now; Dr. Hunter is a great believer in that any way. He says that when men have been living in the field as ours have, without even a tent to cover them at night, when brought into a close room, especially when wounded, they get worse right away. I have seen the truth of this exemplified.

When we first came here, there was a very sick man, whose wife was nursing him; he was in a small room, which the wife would not permit a breath of fresh air to enter, thinking it would kill him, as he had a very bad cough; we all thought he would die. One day Dr. Hunter ordered him to be put into a large ward, where there were about twenty patients; but it was well ventilated. The wife was in a terrible state, and said the moving would kill her husband, and asked me to beg Dr. Hunter to have him moved back. I did so, but he would not grant my request; he said fresh air was the only thing that would save the man, and he did not care to have his murder on his conscience. I found him inexorable, and thought him very hard-hearted. From that time the man commenced to improve, and in a week or two received a furlough, and went home with his wife.

The doctors do not like the wives of the men to come and nurse them; they say they invariably kill them with kindness. There are some ladies who come to take care of their relatives, who seem to understand nursing, and are a great help, not only to their own folks, but to others around them; these the doctors do not object to.

March 9.—Yesterday was a very warm day. Just before sunset we had one of the most terrific hail-storms I have ever seen; some of the hail-stones were the size of a hen’s egg. It broke nearly all of our windows on the west side of the house. It only lasted a few minutes. Had it been of much longer duration, I think the house would have fallen, as the rain poured through the windows in torrents, and would have swept all with it. We had a number of very sick men, and did what we could to have them cared for. Mrs. W. went up-stairs to see after the men there, and found Mr. Murray, a nurse, trying to hold in one of the window-sashes; all the glass being broken, the rain and hail poured right down on him. One of the patients, who we thought was dying, was lying so that he had the full benefit of the storm. Mrs. W., in her haste to save him from being drowned on dry land, gave his bunk a pull, and down came bunk, man, and all on the floor. Poor Mrs. W. thought she had killed him, and it gave her such a fright that she ran and left him. Much to the surprise of all, he has taken a turn for the better. None of the men are any the worse.

They get plenty of fresh air now; Dr. Hunter is a great believer in that any way. He says that when men have been living in the field as ours have, without even a tent to cover them at night, when brought into a close room, especially when wounded, they get worse right away. I have seen the truth of this exemplified.

When we first came here, there was a very sick man, whose wife was nursing him; he was in a small room, which the wife would not permit a breath of fresh air to enter, thinking it would kill him, as he had a very bad cough; we all thought he would die. One day Dr. Hunter ordered him to be put into a large ward, where there were about twenty patients; but it was well ventilated. The wife was in a terrible state, and said the moving would kill her husband, and asked me to beg Dr. Hunter to have him moved back. I did so, but he would not grant my request; he said fresh air was the only thing that would save the man, and he did not care to have his murder on his conscience. I found him inexorable, and thought him very hard-hearted. From that time the man commenced to improve, and in a week or two received a furlough, and went home with his wife.

The doctors do not like the wives of the men to come and nurse them; they say they invariably kill them with kindness. There are some ladies who come to take care of their relatives, who seem to understand nursing, and are a great help, not only to their own folks, but to others around them; these the doctors do not object to.

Sunday, March 1.—I have been very busy all day, too much so to go to church. Mrs. W. is quite well again. She is a member of the Methodist Church, a devout Christian, and is the means of doing much good; I think, as much as any chaplain possibly could. She is greatly beloved by all; the patients look up to her as they would to a kind, sympathizing mother.

Miss Groom is helping Mrs. Snow; she has been quite sick.

Rev. Mr. Denniston visited the sick today.

February 23.—A bright, beautiful day. Had a visit from Mrs. Dr. Hopping and Mrs. Moore; also Mr. Weaver; the latter brought me a letter from home.

A few days ago we received our first pay. I received one hundred and twenty dollars, for three months; Mrs. W. one hundred and five. Our first feeling was not to take it, but then we remembered we could make good use of the money. Mine is nearly all gone already. I bought a common cotton delaine dress, for which I paid three dollars per yard; in good times it would have been twenty-five cents. I also bought a common calico, at two dollars and a quarter a yard, and a common pair of leather boots for sixteen dollars. These articles would have been higher in Mobile.

A day or two ago I received a letter from Lieutenant Goodman of the Ninth Mississippi Regiment—one of my old patients. I met him while in Mobile, and he kindly brought a parcel from there for me, and through mistake took it to the army. They sent it back by express; and, on receiving it from that office, the agents would accept no money when they knew it was for me, because I am in the hospital.