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

May 7.—A beautiful day. The troops are marching in the direction of Rienzi; it is supposed that the enemy are trying to flank our army, but I do not fear while we have such vigilant generals as Beauregard and Bragg to watch them.

I had a slight quarrel with our ward-master. One of the men, lately wounded, was in a room where were some who had occupied it since the battle of Shiloh. One of them—a mere boy—was wasted to a skeleton; his back was covered with bed-sores. Poor child! he was very fretful. I observed that it annoyed the new patient, and requested Dr. Allen, who is very kind to the soldiers, to allow me to have him removed to a room by himself. He kindly gave his consent. While doing it, the ward-master objected; but as I had obtained leave, I had him removed, and he commenced to improve immediately.

I have been through the ward to see if the men are in want of any thing; but all are sound asleep under the influence of morphine. Much of that is administered; more than for their good, and must injure them. I expressed this opinion to one of the doctors; he smiled, and said it was not as bad as to let them suffer.

The moon is shining brightly; the view from my window is really beautiful. A band of music is playing in the distance, which carries my mind back to more peaceful days, and I fervently send up a prayer to Him who sitteth in the heavens, to turn the hearts of our enemies, so they may let us go in peace. I think how many of our brave men, who are now quietly resting, by to-morrow’s setting sun may be sleeping their last sleep; and I think of the lonely sentinel, walking his weary rounds, his thoughts on his home and loved ones, and pray that God may lift his thoughts from this weary world, to that paradise on high, where I trust some day will be his home. O, God, be with them all, so that, whether living or dying, they may be thine!

May 6.—Mr. Jones is dead; he was eighteen years of age. He died the death of a Christian; was a brave soldier; true to his God and country. Miss H. sat up all night with him. She is endeavoring to procure a coffin for him. We have none now in which to bury the dead, as the Federals have destroyed the factory at which they were made. At one time, I thought that it was dreadful to have the dead buried without them; but there is so much suffering among the living, that I pay little heed to those things now. It matters little what becomes of the clay after the spirit has left it. Men who die as ours do, need “no useless coffin” to enshrine them.

“There honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay.”

May 5.—Mrs. Ogden is here with four Mobile ladies; the others have returned to their homes. The ladies who are with her are Mrs. May, Miss Wolf, Miss Murphy, and Mrs. Millward. They are on their way to Rienzi to attend the patients. I am glad that they are going, as they will be the means of doing much good.

We have a boy here, named Sloan, from Texas, and a member of the Texas Rangers. He is only thirteen years of age, and lost a leg in a skirmish. He is as happy as if nothing was the matter, and he was at home playing with his brothers and sisters. His father is with him, and is quite proud that his young son has distinguished himself to such a degree, and is very grateful to the ladies for the kind attention which they bestow upon him.

A few days ago a number of wounded men were brought in. In going round, as usual, to see if I knew any one, I saw a man who seemed to have suffered a great deal. His eyes were closed, and while I was looking at him he opened them, and said, with a feeble voice, “Is not this a cruel war.” I requested him to keep quiet. As I left him, a gentleman approached me and remarked, “I see that you have been talking to my friend. He is going to die, and we can ill spare such men. He is one of the bravest and best men in the army.” He informed me that his name was Smith, and at the time of the fight was acting quartermaster of the Twenty-fifth Tennessee Regiment, and that he was also a Methodist minister. After I had given him a cup of tea, I asked one of the surgeons what he thought of his condition. He replied that I could do what I pleased for him as he could not possibly live more than twenty-four hours. After he was shot, he carried a wounded man off the battlefield. He himself was then placed on horseback. The horse, being wild, threw him. He was then placed in a wagon, and carried some four or five miles, over an extremely rough road. From all this he lost much blood. Notwithstanding the opinion of the surgeons, he is improving.

I have just received a box of “good things” for the patients from the kind people of Mobile. My friend, Mr. McLean, has sent his share. I am so grateful for them. If they only knew or could realize one half the suffering that we daily witness, they would do more.

Poor Mr. Jones, the young lad whom Miss Henderson is attending, has had a leg amputated to-day. He conversed very calmly about it before it was done, and seemed to think that he would not survive the operation. He has told Miss H. all about his people, and what she must tell them if he should die. She has nursed him as carefully as if she had been his own sister. He loved to have some of us read the Bible to him.

We have no chaplain to attend the sick and dying men; they often ask for one. I have thought much of this, and wonder why chaplains are not appointed for the hospitals. I think that if there is one place more than another where they should be, it is one like this; not for the dying alone, but for the moral influence it would exert upon the living. We profess to be a Christian people, and should see that all the benefits of Christianity are administered to our dying soldiers.

Sunday morning, May 4.—I have just seen Generals Price and Van Dorn review their troops. They were at too great a distance to distinguish the different regiments; but the sight was quite imposing, as column after column marched along, with their flags flying in the breeze. But little glitter was worn on the dress of the men; they did not need it; we all knew that they carried with them hearts that all the power of the foe could neither bend nor break, and without which all glitter and gold are mere dross. The cavalry appeared splendid; no knights of olden time rode their horses with loftier mien than did these warriors. I enjoyed the scene until the ambulances passed in review, with their white flags, denoting their use. This cast a blight over the whole.

Evening.—Our troops are returning. They offered battle to the foe, but, as usual, it was not accepted. They never will fight when there is any thing like an equal force to oppose them.

It has turned cold and rainy. We have just been looking at some of our troops, who are camping on a hill within sight of the hospital. They have no tents or shelter of any kind, and look very deplorable. It makes us miserable to look at them; but we can not aid them in any way.

I have spent the day talking and reading to the men; they like to hear us read to them, but they do not seem to care much for reading themselves. Mr. McLean of Mobile has given me a number of copies of the Illustrated London News, with a full account of the Crimean war. I thought if any thing would interest them these would; but they look at the pictures, and throw them down as unworthy of notice. They seem to have no ambition to know any thing outside of their own country. I regret this, as we are all creatures of imitation, and if we do not know how others have suffered and fought for freedom, we will not know how to imitate them. I believe with Longfellow,

“Lives of great men all remind as
We can make our lives sublime.”

May 3.—A very warm day. I am obliged to stop writing some letters, as I hear heavy cannonading; the sound makes me quite nervous; this is the first time that I have ever heard firing in battle. I suppose my brother is in it.

Seven o’clock P. M., and a number of wounded have just been brought in. There was a skirmish at the intrenchments. My brother is not hurt, or I should have known it by this time.

May 2.—Mr. Ogden, a member of Captain Ketchum’s Battery, called on me this morning. He has been discharged from that company, and is going to Mobile to join the engineering department; the one in which he served while in the British army. From all I can learn, he has been a brave and good soldier.

In the afternoon, Mr. J—— called; he, Miss—— , Dr. Herrick, and myself went to pay a visit to the Twenty-first Alabama Regiment. After spending some time in trying to discover its whereabouts, we learned that it was too far distant for us to go. We had a very pleasant ramble in the woods. I had no idea that the country around Corinth was so pretty—it being quite hilly. The woods were arrayed in their summer attire, and the “wind-whispers” through the forest had a soothing effect; like a sweet melody of other years,

“There is music in all things, if men had ears;
The earth is but an echo of the spheres.”

The whole wore an air of serenity and peacefulness—a vivid contrast to the fury that is raging in the heart of our remorseless foe. Alas! how “man marks the earth with ruin,” and curses “what heaven hath made so glorious.”

A company of “dire artillery’s clumsy car,” not “tugged by sluggish oxen,” but drawn by fine-looking horses, passed us. The scene was an impressive one. Nature looked so calm, as if in contrast with the terrible war-monsters before us. I could not look at them without thinking that, ere long, they might be belching forth their iron hail; dealing death and destruction; bringing woe to many a heart and household. General Polk and his staff passed; he looks every inch a soldier. I am told that he is much beloved in camp.

May 1.—A bright, beautiful day. I do not feel well. Every one is complaining; quite a number of the ladies and doctors are sick. Corinth is more unhealthy than ever. The cars have just come in, loaded outside and inside with troops. They are Price’s and Van Dorn’s men, and are from Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, and Missouri. Poor fellows! they look as if they had seen plenty of hard service, which is true. They are heroes of Oakhill, Elkhorn, and other battles. I have been informed that in their marches through the West they have endured all kinds of hardships; going many days with nothing but parched corn to eat, and walking hundreds of miles, through frost and snow, without shoes. Those on the outside of the cars carried an old shattered flag, of which they seemed to be very proud. I was much astonished that the men who were at the depot did not give these war-worn veterans and their flag one cheer of welcome. I had hard work to keep from giving them one myself. I thought that the southern people were more demonstrative, and I remarked so to a gentleman who was standing near me. He replied that we had become so much accustomed to these things that we did not mind them.

The two men who had their limbs amputated yesterday died during the night. Decatur Benton, from Decatur County, Ala., died to-day. He was wounded at the battle of Shiloh. He had erysipelas upon his head and face, and had been out of his mind some time before his death. He was in his seventeenth year.

April 30.—I saw General Price when he rode to camp. I think he is one of the finest looking men on horseback that I have ever seen. I have a picture of Lord Raglan in the same position, and I think that he and General P. are the image of each other. I showed the picture to some of the doctors, and they agreed with me. General P. is in bad health, but could not be induced to stay longer with us, as his abode is with his soldiers in the camp, where he shares their sorrows and joys. It is this that has so endeared him to them. Missouri may well be proud of her gallant son.

The hospital is nicely fixed up; every thing is as neat and clean as can be in this place.

Mrs. Glassburn has received a great many wines and other delicacies from the good people of Natchez. I believe they have sent every thing—furniture as well as edibles. We have dishes in which to feed the men, which is a great improvement. The food is much better cooked. We have negroes for cooks, a good baker, a nice dining-room, and eat like civilized people. If we only had milk for the patients, we might do very well.

There is a young man here taking care of his brother, who is shot through the jaw. The brother procures milk from one of the farm-houses near, and had it not been for this I believe the sick man would have died of starvation. We have a few more such, and they have to be fed like children. One young man, to whom one of the ladies devotes her whole time, has had his jaw-bone taken out. We have a quantity of arrow-root, and I was told that it was useless to prepare it, as the men would not touch it. I thought that I would try them, and now use gallons of it daily. I make it quite thin, and sometimes beat up a few eggs and stir in while hot; then season with preserves of any kind—those that are a little acid are the best—and let stand until it becomes cold. This makes a very pleasant and nourishing drink; it is good in quite a number of diseases; will ease a cough; and is especially beneficial in cases of pneumonia. With good wine, instead of the preserves, it is also excellent; I have not had one man to refuse it, but I do not tell them of what it is made.

Our army is being reinforced from all quarters. The cars are coming and going constantly, and the noise is deafening. It is a blessing that our men are not nervous, or the noise would kill them. We are strongly fortifying this place. I hope we will soon gain a victory; but our forces can not tempt the Yankees to fight.

We are told by Dr. Smith to do what is necessary for the prisoners, but talk as little as possible to them. The captain from Cincinnati is still here; a very sick lieutenant is in the same room. I believe he is one of the captain’s officers. I have to attend him. A few mornings since, when I was visiting him, the captain stated that there was good news in the papers. (He is allowed to read all the southern papers.) I asked what it was. He answered that a proposition had been made for the exchange of prisoners; and that it came from our side. I remarked that all humane proposals came from our side and that I did not think that his would be magnanimous enough to accept it. He said he hoped they would, so that he could see his home once more. I pray so too, as I know that our men who are prisoners have been enduring extreme hardship.

Every one is still down-hearted about New Orleans, as its fall has divided the Confederacy by opening the Upper Mississippi River to the enemy. All praise the spirited answer given by the mayor when ordered to surrender the city. He said that the citizens of New Orleans yielded to physical force alone, and that they still maintained their allegiance to the Confederate States; and upon refusal to pull down the state flag from the city hall, Commodore Farragut threatened to bombard the city. The mayor replied, the people of New Orleans would not degrade themselves by the humiliating act of lowering their own flag, and that there was no possible way for the women and children to leave; so he would have to do his worst. We can not but admire such spirited behavior; but it is nothing but what I expected from the proud Louisianans. Indeed, I had no idea that they would give up their much-prized city as easily as they did, but thought that it would have to be taken street by street. When all is known, I trust that the people will not be blamed. A number of Louisiana troops are here, who are much enraged about it. General Lovell, who was in command, is severely censured, but I trust he is not in fault.

We are still busy; wounded men are constantly brought in. To-day, two men had each a leg amputated. It is supposed that both will die.

General Van Dorn, with a number of his troops, has just arrived.

April 29.—About one hundred sick men were brought in last night, on their way to another hospital. We gave them coffee, bread, and meat, with which they were much pleased. Some of them were too sick to eat this, so we gave these the few eggs we had.

General Sterling Price, with a part of his army, has arrived. He is in this hospital. We were all introduced to him. He gave us his left hand, as his right was disabled from a wound received at the battle of Elkhorn. I told him that I felt that we were safe in Corinth now, since he and his brave followers had arrived. He gave me a very dignified bow, and, I thought, looked at me as if he thought that I was talking a great deal of nonsense. He was not behind his sex in complimenting the ladies for the sacrifices they are making in doing their duty. I have heard so much of that lately, that I sometimes wonder if the southern women never did their duty before. I meant what I said to the general, and I felt quite proud of the honor I enjoyed in shaking hands with him whose name has become a household word with all admirers of true patriotism, and whose deeds of heroism in the West have endeared him to his followers, so that they look on him more as a father than any thing else.

In the afternoon he visited the patients. Many of them were men who had fought under him, and all were delighted to see him. One of them, Captain Dearing, was wounded at the battle of Shiloh. He was quarter-master in Blythe’s Mississippi Regiment, and when the battle came off could not resist the temptation of engaging in it. He is badly wounded in two places, but is doing well. He is from Kentucky, but is a native of the Emerald Isle. I can not help contrasting these men with those born in the South, they seem to be able to endure physically so much more than the southerners. We have had quite a number of them, and I do not recollect that any have died.