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

September 16.—We have a truce of ten days. It has been given to let the people get out of Atlanta. Sherman has ordered every one to leave that place. Refugees are coming out by the thousand, perfectly destitute, as they are not permitted to bring any thing with them.

The authorities in the South are doing every thing to alleviate the sufferings of these unfortunates. There are people here separated from their families, and with no idea where they have gone.

The great chieftain, General John Morgan, is no more. This brave man did not have the honor of falling on the battlefield. It is said he was betrayed by a woman, and that after he surrendered he was brutally murdered, and that indignities of all kinds were heaped on his lifeless body; but his “country conquers with his martyrdom.”

Alas! how fleeting is every thing in this world; it seems but yesterday that he took for his bride one of Tennessee’s fairest daughters. She is now bereft of her all, and, like the bride of Glenullen,

"Shall await,

Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the gate;

A steed comes at morning; no rider is there;

But its bridle is red with the sign of despair."

Sept. 7.—Atlanta has been evacuated. We have had some very heavy fighting in that direction. Atlanta was important on account of its position. I hear few regret the loss of the city itself, not even Georgians, as they say it was the most wicked place in the world.

A lady writes from Newnan, that the wounded are all doing well, and that the ladies are very kind to them. She says Newnan is almost entirely deserted—every body having left for fear of the enemy; many of them are here.

The Bragg and Foard are the only hospitals here. The Bragg is very large, and has a ward about a mile in the country, in a beautiful spot. A large brick college is its main building. Dr. Adams, Mrs. Harrison, and Mrs. Harris are there.

We have numbers of wounded men, who have been sent home on furloughs; while there, their wounds break out again, and as there were no experienced surgeons to attend them, they are worse than ever. A great deal of mischief is done in this way. This is one of the reasons why surgeons are so unwilling to give furloughs.

The public square opposite to us is filled with tents, which are full of gangrene cases. One lad suffers so much we can hear him scream for two squares off.

After the fire, several of the ladies called on us, and asked us what they could do in the way of feeding our men. We told them, if they would give the worst cases their dinner, we should be very grateful; which they have done.

September 1.—Last night our hospital was burned to the ground, and with it much valuable property belonging to the town.

About 5 P. M., while on my way to visit some sick men, a cry of fire was raised, and on looking in the direction it came from, saw a large cotton warehouse in a blaze. The sight was fearful, as it covered the whole square, and the cotton seemed to have ignited all at the same time. Had I not known how inflammable cotton is, I should have thought it was covered with turpentine. The flames spread with great rapidity, and it was not long before two whole squares were entirely consumed.

We have saved very little. A number of buildings were blown up; by this we lost much more than we otherwise should have done.

Our hospital occupied three sides of a square; out of this there is one two-story brick building saved.

The people have been very kind, and many came in from miles in the country, and took the patients to their houses.

Mrs. W. and I remained with a very nice lady, who was very kind to us. We are now in a small room, about twelve feet square, in which are all our stores, and besides we have two patients, who come and eat with us. It is just as much as we can do to turn around.

Our men have put up stoves in an open field, which they use for their kitchen. All this is very disheartening, and I feel as if I never would assist to fix up a hospital again.

It is estimated that three or four million dollars will not cover the loss. Thousands of bales of cotton were destroyed; it had been sent here from every portion of the state, to be out of the way of the enemy. The fire originated from a small piece of lighted paper, thrown down by a little negro boy. We all feel confident that it was accidental.

August 28.—We have become a little settled, and think we shall like the place very well. I never had such a nice kitchen.

Dr. Wellford has been here. He was ordered away from Newnan, as the enemy were expected. He brought word that our patients were doing pretty well; a few of them had gone to their long homes. He has been sent back, as it was a false alarm, Mini thoro aro many wounded there yet.

Dr. Reesse has returned from the front. He is very sanguine of our success; says that the Yankee pickets exchange tobacco and newspapers with ours, and have told them that Sherman is nearly exhausted, and will have to give up soon.

I should like to believe this, but am afraid it is too good to be true. I see by the papers that we have had a great deal of fighting in Missouri and Kentucky.

Lieutenant Haskill of Garrety’s battery was killed on the 7th. He is much regretted.

We have quite a number of sick. The ladies of the place have called on us, and seem very anxious to assist us. I am very glad of this, as we have little or nothing of our own to give the patients. The paymaster has not been around lately; so Dr. H., like all here, is entirely out of funds.

This is said to be a very wealthy place; and were we to judge from the carriages and fine horses we see, I should think the impressing officer had not been down this way for some time.

August 19, 1864.—We started from Newnan on the 15th instant, and very much to our regret, as we had to leave so many of our old patients behind. Mr. Morgan cried like a child; but, child-like, I suppose he has forgotten all about us ere this.

Mr. Williams of the Ninth Kentucky, one of our old patients, tried to procure a permit to come with us, but he did not succeed. We were very sorry, as he was anxious to get away from Newnan for fear of being captured. He had been in the country at the time the hospital was moved.

Many of the ladies of the place called on us before we left, and promised to do all in their power for the wounded.

As we have very little money, Dr. W. insisted on our taking some from him. He said we did not know what we were about, to think of starting in these times with the small amount we had; and he was about right, as the sequel proved.

We arrived at West Point about sundown the same day. Dr. W. had put us under the care of the conductor, and he took us to a small hotel—the Exchange. The landlord was moving, but informed us we might lodge there for the night, as we had provisions with us; that was all for which we cared. He gave us a room without even a wash-bowl or pitcher in it; for the privilege of remaining in this delightful room we paid the moderate sum of ten dollars.

There was a large brick hotel in the place, but as we had such a short time to remain, we thought it would be useless to change.

We walked around the place; it is like many other of our small towns—in a forlorn condition. There are in it some very nice private dwellings, but no one seems, in these war times, to care how their property is kept.

There is quite a formidable fort built on a high hill, and from it we had a very fine view of the surrounding country. The fort is garrisoned by Massingale’s battery, the men of which very politely showed us all its mysteries.

An accident occurred in it but a short time since. A lieutenant of Massingale’s battery and one of the men were standing near a caisson, when a shell exploded, killing the lieutenant instantly and wounding some of the men. The former was from Macon, and had been but a short time married.

We had a pleasant walk on the bridge which the enemy were so desirous of destroying. I believe the guard on it were Governor Brown’s men. In the late raid through this portion of the country, the enemy’s object was the destruction of this bridge, as it is a very important one to us. By its destruction we would lose one of the communications with the Gulf States, and at present they are the granary of the Tennessee army; and, besides that, all communication between these states and both armies would be hindered, at least for awhile. The river at this point is very wide.

The late raiders did not come any further than Opilika, which is not many miles distant. There they destroyed a large portion of the railroad and government property.

We stopped at a small farm-house, to try and procure some milk; we were unsuccessful, but the lady of the house gave us a watermelon, for which she would take no money.

We asked her what she intended doing in the event of a battle being fought there. She said she did not know, but supposed she would have to remain.

We next visited the hospital. Dr. Oslin, the post surgeon, we knew well from reputation. We introduced ourselves to him. His personal appearance did not belie the high encomiums we had often heard passed on him. I am told he is not only a kindhearted and polished gentleman, but a Christian. He has no ladies in his hospital, Miss W.’s sister having never come. He told us that our friend, Miss W., who is living near, would take charge of one if we would remain there with her. This we felt very much tempted to do, as we should be much nearer the army there than where we were going.

We went around the hospitals; they were filled with badly wounded and sick; there were a number of erysipelas cases in a ward by themselves.

If the enemy should attack the place, I do not know what would become of all these poor fellows.

We were informed that morning that the Federals had cut the road between that point and Atlanta, and as the train did not come in at its usual time, we were confident the report was true, but the arrival of the train proved it false. We left about 4 P. M. on the 16th.

When a few miles beyond Opilika, the locomotive ran off the track, and we came near having a very serious accident. I was reading, and knew nothing of it until I heard some ladies scream. I then felt a motion as if the train was about to upset. I saw several of the cars ahead of us plunge off the road, and men jumping from them; many took to the woods, as they were fearful of an explosion.

We remained on the car all night. Next morning men who had came from Opilika were at work trying to clear the track, but the job looked like an endless one. Every car excepting the one we were on (it being the last) was off the track. Had we gone a very little further, we would have been thrown down quite a precipice, and no doubt many of us sent into eternity.

One of our old patients made us some coffee, and we, like all the rest, ate our breakfast on the roadside. We were in the woods, and no sign of a habitation near. As there was little or no hope of our leaving there for some time, a gentleman who had found an empty house a little ways back came and took his party, Mrs. W., and myself to it. We found it quite a nice retreat. It had been a schoolhouse, and the benches and desks were left standing. We had books, and altogether had quite a pleasant day. Our gentleman friend was Senator Hill, of Lagrange, Georgia. With him were two nice young ladies, the Misses Leach, who were on their way to their homes in New York. They had been spending some few years in the South. Senator Hill informed us that the ladies of Lagrange had undertaken the care of the wounded left there, and his daughter, a girl of sixteen, had special charge of six. I was much pleased to hear this, and only hope the ladies of Newnan will do the same. Mr. Hill gave us some nice biscuit and ham, his servant made our coffee for dinner, and altogether we had a most delightful repast.

Miss Evans, the authoress, was on the train, going to Columbus, where she has a badly wounded brother. From her I learned that all was quiet in Mobile, although we have had a naval battle, and Forts Morgan, Powell, and Gaines were taken. The battle was a desperate one, and we have lost our splendid ram, the Tennessee. Admiral Buchanan was severely wounded; himself and whole crew are prisoners. I believe we have lost several gun-boats. We were attacked by a fleet of war ships, and instead of retiring, as would have been policy, fought them. The act was a bold and daring one, but showed a lack of wisdom. We have too much of this spirit among us, and I think it would be much better every way had we less of it and more discretion.

About 3 P. M., a wood-car came from Columbus, on which we all got. We cut branches of trees and held them over us for protection from the sun, and I have no doubt, as we went along, that many thought that “Birnam wood” was coming. We reached Columbus without further accident in time to catch the Macon train. We arrived at the latter place about 4 A. M., the 17th. Went to a hotel and paid ten dollars for a bed, and as much more for breakfast. We called on Drs. Bemiss and Stout, and learned from them that our hospital had gone to Americus, Georgia. These two gentlemen were low-spirited; they do not like the idea of coming so far South at this season, and think it will be deleterious to the wounded.

Miss Leach took the address of some of my relatives in Europe, promising to write and let them know of having met me. As communication with foreign parts is uncertain, we take advantage of every opportunity of sending letters through the lines. The train to Americus had already gone, and Mrs. W., being fearful that if we remained in the hotel another day our exchequer would be empty, we called on our old friend, Dr. Cannon, who has charge of the Wayside Home. I knew he could tell us where we could procure a boardinghouse more suited to our means. His two daughters were with him, and were keeping house in two rooms, refugee style; one of the rooms was parlor, bed-room, and dining-room, the other a kind of dressing-room. It astonishes me to see how well every body manages now-a-days; they put up with inconveniences as if they had been used to them all their lives. The war seems to have raised the minds of many above common every-day annoyances. Dr. C. insisted on us remaining with his family, and as Mrs. W. was half sick, and we were both worn out, we were only too thankful to accept the kind invitation. The family seem to be perfectly happy, as much so, I expect, as they ever were in their home in Tennessee. I shall never forget the cup of coffee I drank there; it put me in mind of New Orleans.

Dr. Nagle and an officer who is stationed at Andersonville, where the prisoners are kept, spent the evening with us. The prisoners and their behavior was the principle topic of conversation, and from all we could learn we did not like the prospect of being so near them. (Americus is ten miles below Andersonville.) This officer informed us that no less than a hundred died daily. He said they were the most desperate set of men that he had ever seen. There are two parties among them, the black republicans and the copperheads, and they often have desperate fights, and kill each other. This officer said it was revolting to be near such men, and did not like his position.

Dr. C. sent us to the depot on the 19th in an ambulance. The train stopped a little while at Fort Valley, where the Buckner and Gamble Hospitals, of our post, have remained. There we saw a few familiar faces. The train remained about a half an hour at Andersonville, so we had time for a good view of the prisoners’ quarters. I must say that my antipathy for prison-life was any thing but removed by the sight. My heart sank within me at seeing so many human beings crowded so closely together. I asked a gentleman near why we had so many in one place. He answered that we would not have men enough to guard them were they scattered. O, how I thought of him who is the cause of all this woe on his fellow-countrymen— Abraham Lincoln. What kind of a heart can he have, to leave these poor wretches here? It is truly awful to think about. But, as sure as there is a just God, his day of reckoning will come for the crimes of which he has been guilty against his own countrymen alone. To think of how often we have begged for exchange; but this unfeeling man knows what a terrible punishment it is for our men to be in northern prisons, and how valuable every one of them is to us. For this reason he sacrifices thousands of his own. May Heaven help us all! But war is terrible.

Arrived at Americus to-day, the 19th. We can not tell how we shall like the place. It is quite a large village, and from all appearances we are going to have a very nice hospital, but none of us liked being compelled to come to it . We are far south-west, near the Florida line, and the weather is very warm; I think much warmer than in Mobile, as there we have the sea breeze. The town is in Sumter County, on the South-western Railroad. It is one hundred miles south-west of Milledgeville.

I have a number of letters from various points, one from a young man, a member of an Alabama battery, shows that, with all our retreating, our soldiers are not down-hearted:

Bivouac, 11 Miles West Of Atlanta,

August 4, 1864.

Your kind favor of the 19th ultimo came to hand. I can tell you I was delighted at receiving it. Since last writing you, there has been many a hard fight, in which, I am happy to say, I was a participant.

The Yankees are broken of charging rebel breastworks. They keep shelling all the time; but, thanks be to God, there is not much damage done. It is astonishing to see two armies drawn up confronting each other for hours and hours; every thing is as still as a mouse, when all at once, men rush to arms. Then commences the booming of artillery and the heavy roar of musketry.

This kind of fighting has been going on for the last eighty-six or eighty-seven days, more or less, much to the detriment of Sherman and his hirelings. Poor old Sherman! he has had a hard road to travel, and in my opinion he will never reach Atlanta as long as Sergeant Hood intends keeping him out.

We have just been relieved from a position on the left of our division, where we did some good firing, and came here this morning. The Yankee sharp-shooters are very troublesome, and have been so all through this trip, at least this campaign.

Last night, while sleeping along side of our guns, I was awoke by heavy moaning; on inquiry, I found that an infantryman had been shot by a sharp-shooter while sleeping, thinking of no danger. Poor fellow! I pitied him. There were two or three others hit at the same time, but, thank God, none were killed.

On the 26th or 27th—I have forgotten which—General Hood issued orders for every man on the line to have a musket in his hands, excepting only those who were needed to work the guns of artillery.

I took a musket, and on the 28th the Yankees pitched into our pickets, and such another cheering and rattling of small arms I never heard for picketing. I gathered up my ammunition, and took my gun and ran into the ditch along side of the infantry, expecting the Yankees to charge, but it was only a feint on their part.

The sound of small arms to me has become monotonous; you may think I am callous, but I am not. I am determined not to do any thing that is inconsistent with my duty, and, through God’s assistance, I intend doing that to the letter.

You must excuse me for not answering your last sooner, for we have been marching, digging, and fighting all the time. I must close and smoke my pipe.

Yours, etc.,               J.

In papers received from Mobile, I see that General Maury is begging the people to leave the city, but I do not expect the appeal is heeded. Governor Shorter has had sheds built for the people to live in, so they have no excuse.

The planters are still holding on to their corn, and will not sell it to those who have the best right to it.

Sunday, August 14.—We expected to leave to-day, but the cars did not come down from Atlanta. Mrs. Johnston and Mrs. Ashcraft have taken the men under their care, and Mrs. Captain Nott, who is very kind to the wounded, will also do her part. Dr. Smith is surgeon in charge, and is having every thing put in order. The ladies of the place have been very kind, and have sent the men all kinds of nice things.

I have spent a portion of the day with the young lad who cried so much the first night I came over here. He is wounded in the foot, has gangrene, and suffers excruciating pain. His name is Morgan, and he is from Mississippi. A Mrs. Ross has kindly offered to take sole charge of him. He has begged Mrs. W. and me to take him with us.

Mrs. W. has been very busy; she does not know what I have been doing, nor I of her doings.

A Lieutenant Sommerlin, from Covington, Georgia, is here, badly wounded; his wife, a lovely woman, is taking care of him.

She told me she was in Covington when the raiders passed through there, and that they committed some terrible outrages; among others was the shooting of a Captain Daniel, a cousin of Miss W., of whom I had heard her often speak. He was in the state service, and the vandals made believe they thought him a bushwhacker. He has left a large family of motherless children to mourn for him. He was a man of a highly cultivated mind, and stood well in the estimation of all.

They went to the house of an old man, and as he knew they had come with designs on his life, he sold it dearly. He fought manfully, and killed some half dozen before he fell.

Several of our attendants have come back; they had been sent for the bunks and other things that our folks were not able to take with them.

The hospitals went to Macon by Atlanta, and one of the men has informed me that while passing there the shells flew all around the train, and one struck within a few feet of them.

Atlanta is closely besieged. General Hood is now in command of this army. I believe Johnston is in Macon. There have been many conjectures as to this change of commanders, but no one can tell exactly the why or the wherefore.

Last evening Mrs. Brooks and myself went up to the College Hospital, in which are many of our wounded, besides the prisoners. Among our men I found two Scotchmen, very badly wounded. The wounded Federal captain that I had seen before was here, and looked badly. The prisoners are in much better quarters in this hospital than our men at the Coweta House.

All have fared much better than they have with us, as Mr. Kellogg, the steward, owns the building and has all of his own furniture. There are two ladies who take care of the patients—Mrs. Kellogg and Mrs. Alexander—both kind and excellent women.

We have had a few false alarms about the enemy coming, but they have always turned out to be our own cavalry.

We are leaving many good friends in Newnan; Mr. Dougherty’s family and many others have been very kind to us. As we have been much engaged, we have visited little. I spent a very pleasant evening at the house of Dr. Reesse; Mrs. R. is an excellent lady, and her daughters are highly educated young ladies and accomplished musicians.

Some time ago we all spent a delightful evening at the house of Mr. Bigby. We had a very fine supper, and all on the table was of home production, with the exception of the tea. But the supper was the least of the entertainment. Mrs. B. is a most charming lady, is a poetess, and is called the Mrs. Browning of the South. Lately she published a poem in the Field and Fireside, called Judith. She was earnestly requested by Dr. Hughes to read it, and did so It was certainly a treat, for she lent to the “rhyme of the poet the music of her voice.”

Mr. B. is a lawyer and a polished gentleman. Their residence is in a romantic part of the city, is a handsome building, inclosed in a very pretty garden filled with choice flowers.

There are some very nice residences in this place, and many very beautiful flower-gardens, laid out with a great deal of taste.

The people here seem to regret our leaving the post, though I am told the quartermaster owes many of them money for house rent, etc. I know that Mr. Dougherty has not received one dollar from the government, and we have cut down quantities of timber on his land.

Our post surgeons have been careful to respect the rights of private citizens, and with the exception of taking the churches when we first came here, I believe there have been no buildings taken for hospital purposes without the consent of the owners. In Chattanooga we were constantly coming in collision with the people for taking their property for government purposes. I do not know who was to blame, but I do know that such was the case.

August 11.—A few days ago we received orders to pack up for a move. We were told to send the worst wounded to the Coweta House. As we have learned to do every thing with dispatch, all was ready for removal in a very short time. The cars were waiting for us, and the wounded who could be moved were put aboard. They disliked being left so much, that many pretended they were better than they really were. After every thing was in readiness, about dark, I went to the Coweta House to bid the patients good-by. The men had been sent from the Bragg, Gamble, and our hospitals. The galleries, halls, and rooms were full, and there were no nurses, no lights, and nothing to eat or drink, not even water. I met Dr. Wellford, who had gone over for the same purpose as myself. Never were two persons more joyfully received than we were. One poor boy was crying like a child. Dr. W. came back home with me, and we procured some of the nurses, and, taking some of the rations which we had cooked, and making a quantity of toddy, we carried all over. The men did not eat much, but the toddy seemed to revive them. We had also taken candles with us. I remained as long as I could be of any service. I believe Dr. W. was there till 12 o’clock that night .

The next morning I went to see them, and found they had no breakfast; and there was little prospect of their getting any. No one seemed to have them in charge. I was told that Dr. Smith, one of the surgeons of the place, was to take care of them, but he was not there then.

I heard no little grumbling, which was not much wonder. Many said they did not care how soon the enemy had them; that they could not use them worse than our own people had done.

I looked around, and discovered that there were no dishes, and no utensils in which to cook, even if we had any thing to cook. There were no changes of clothing for the men, and no rags for their wounds. I told Mrs. W. the plight the men were in, and she said she would remain with them and run the risk of being captured. We sent for Dr. Hughes, and he gave his consent for her to stay. I then asked him to send at least a change of clothing for the men who had left our hospital. He said he could not without orders. He left us, and after awhile some clothes were sent, and a lot of eggs and butter. The steward came, and asked us what kind of dishes we wished. I gave him a list, and he tried to get them, but was unable to do so, as they were packed away in boxes, which were in the car, and could not be got at.

Sallie (a little girl who was in the hospital with us) and I got on one of the box-cars along with the ladies of the Gamble Hospital, Miss Rigby and Mrs. Dr. Wildman. We were just about starting when we were informed that our hospital would not leave before next morning. Sallie and I got off, and remained all that night at Mrs. Dougherty’s, who, as usual, was very kind.

Mrs. W. stayed at the Coweta House, and by daylight next morning she came to me in great distress, saying she had not slept any all night, she had been kept awake by the groans of the men. And on trying to get something for them for breakfast, and finding nothing, had become sick at heart, and sick in reality. I sent over a large can filled with edibles, and Mrs. D. sent a nice breakfast for about six. I then went to the hospital, and, between us, we managed to get enough food for all. The men from the Gamble Hospital had been provided for; but there were not more than six or seven of them, so their things did not add much to the stock on hand.

I resolved not to leave Mrs. W., as she was quite sick. I told the post surgeon I would like to remain, he informed me that I could not please him better than by so doing; that he had been disappointed in procuring the assistance of some of the ladies of the place. He expected Dr. Smith would have taken charge of the patients before that time, and see that they were properly cared for. There had been some misunderstanding about the matter. In the hurry of evacuating a post, as was the case with us, oversights are unavoidable. Dr. Wible had issued an order to the surgeon in charge of each hospital to turn over, for the benefit of the patients, medicines, liquors, and money, which order was complied with. Such is the strict discipline in our medical department, that, as he did not specify any of the other necessaries, they were not left. The mistake was not found out until too late to retrieve it, as every thing had been packed up and sent off on the cars.

Dr. Gore, who remained a little while after the hospitals left, gave us a large box full of things which had been sent to him as a donation for the wounded. There were some nice wines and many other useful articles in it. Dr. Gore did his best to induce the citizens to lend us their assistance.

As many men as could be spared were sent around to the citizens, asking them to send us cooked provisions. Drs. Devine and Wellford were to be left as long as there was no sign of the approach of the enemy.

I spent the most of the day going around among the people, begging them for the loan of almost any thing. Mrs. Berry gave me a wash-boiler; Mrs. Dr. Redwine, a wash-tub; and Mrs. McKinly, a negro woman, to wash, and a small tub in which to bathe the men’s wounds.

Dishes of all kinds being very scarce, I could not even borrow any. By dinnertime the people commenced sending in all kinds of good things to eat, but we were in a dilemma, as we had nothing on which to put them. We managed after awhile to have them stored away until they would be consumed. We had to economize, as we were not certain when we would get any more. Mrs. Brooks intends sending food to six, which will be a great help.

I am completely worn out, as the day has been very warm. We do not know the moment the enemy may be on us, but we will have to make the best of it if they come. Our clothes have all gone with the hospitals, so we have nothing but ourselves to care for now.

Mr. Moore remained to help take care of the wounded, and he has done his part in procuring food; he has got a friend to send us some milk.

August 6.—The prisoners still continue to come in. A few days ago I saw about sixty in a crowd, and a more deplorable sight I never beheld; they were barefooted and bareheaded.

Mr. Holt, who has charge of the linen-room, gave them all the hats and shoes he could collect.

We sent them about two gallons of nice soup and what bread we could procure. Many of the men told me they would do without, and give their share to the prisoners. It would be some time before they could get food cooked at the prison.

On looking at these poor creatures, I thought what a pity it was that the men in Washington could not be made to take their places; if this was done, I think we should have peace.

A few days ago I visited the wounded prisoners, in company with Mrs. Bigby and Mrs. Berry. In one of the wards nearly all were men from the southern states— Kentucky, Tennessee, North Alabama, and North Mississippi, were there represented. I have far less respect for these men than I have for a real Yankee. To me it has always been a mystery how any man born on southern soil can have any affinity with the enemy.

We had a little boy with us, about two years old, whom the men tried to get to speak to them, but he would not go near them. One of them said he thought it strange. I told him I did not, as instinct had taught the child who its worst enemies were. He said, “Why, we never hurt children!” I answered, that burning their homes and destroying their food was not hurting them! Many of them answered, “We never do these things, and would shoot a man as soon as you would, who would do so.” I asked them if any one had been shot for setting fire to Palmetto? They answered no; they could not find out who had done it. I told them that I expected they never would.

They told us a good deal about how well the women of Georgia had treated them; they said they had given them food, and been very kind in every way. At this they need not feel at all flattered, as doubtless news had reached those ladies of the inhumanity with which many had been treated in North Georgia, and they thought it but wisdom, when in the lion’s jaw, to extricate themselves as easily as possible.

I know of many in this place who, as soon as they heard of the enemy coming, went to work to cook for them. We all know that this was not for love.

There was a Captain Shortz of Iowa, who had one of his hands cut off, and the other badly wounded. He was a pitiful sight. I told him I had more sympathy for him than I had for our own men. He asked me why. I answered, his conscience could not be at rest, like theirs. He said that was a difference of opinion. All the men there told us the same old story—they were fighting for the Union.

In another ward one of them, from New York, but a native of Cornwall, England, was nursing. I told him I was perfectly astonished to see one of his nation aiding the oppressor. He answered, that he was ashamed of his native country for sympathizing with us as it had done. He was an abolitionist, and the first I had met.

He said the main thing he disliked in being a prisoner was, that his time had expired, and had he been free he would have been home. I asked him if all went home when their time was up. He said yes; there was nothing for them to do, as they had three reserves, and we had only been fighting the first.

We have certainly a bright prospect ahead of us, if we have the other two reserves yet to fight!

I think the Federal government very inhuman. Why do they not send all the reserves to fight us at once, and not have their men killed by piecemeal, as they are now doing? The prisoners, one and all, told us that they could not be better treated.

Some of our wounded have died lately. Mr. Hull, a fine-looking lad, was one. I think he was a member of Ross’s Texas Cavalry. His brother was with him. A lieutenant, whose name I have forgotten, told me that Captain Haily is really killed. This gentleman was a particular friend of Captain H.; they had been school-boys together. He says a nobler or better man never lived.

Knives, forks, and spoons are still scarce. I do dislike to see the men eat, as many are compelled to eat, with their fingers. Some few have knives and forks of their own. We have cups, plates, bowls, and pitchers made at a factory near; they are common brown earthen-ware, but we are glad to get them.

We have heard that Mobile has been attacked in reality this time. I shall be anxious till I hear from there.

I have made the acquaintance of an excellent family by the name of Taylor, refugees from the northern portion of this state. A member of their family died lately. He had been captured some time ago, at one of the battles in Virginia. His mother, hearing that he was in the last stage of consumption, sent a letter by flag of truce to Stanton, or some of the other leading men of the North, stating his case, and begging his release—which request was granted. He came home in a dying condition; but it was a great consolation to both himself and family to breathe his last amid the endearments of home. I went to see him, but he was too far gone to speak to me.

August 1.—I have had a visit from my old friend, Dr. P. Thornton, who is in General Wharton’s command. I told him all I had heard against General Wheeler. He says General W. has no taste for raiding or running after raiders. His forte is in defending the rear of the army in a retreat, and in that capacity he can not be excelled. Dr. T. also says that nearly all the men were exhausted, as they have been chasing these raiders since last Tuesday.

On Saturday General W. ordered General Anderson, who had fresh men, to hurry and intercept the enemy at a place called Corinth, where there is a good crossing on the river. He had failed to get up in time, but the doctor thinks few of them will escape. He thinks we have captured and killed at least eight or nine hundred, and they still continue to be brought in, and not an hour in the day but droves of horses are driven past.

Dr. Wellford has nearly all the wounded to attend, as Dr. Reesse has gone to the front, and Dr. Burks is very sick; and, to add to our distress, many of our best nurses have been sent to the front, and among them Dr. W.’s head nurse, Mr. Martin, from South Carolina, one of the best nurses we had; his health is bad. I think it is sinful to take such men away from these poor sufferers.

Dr. Henderson told me he was at the receiving field hospital when some of these same men were sent back from the army; and our surgeons got a few blessings from the doctors, as they had enough to do without taking care of such sick men.