October 6.—Left here on the 28th ult., about 3 o’clock A.M. The cars were densely crowded with soldiers returning to their commands. When we arrived at the Burnt Shed, found that the rail track had been finished to Ringgold; so we passed on to that place. As I was familiar with it, I went to the nearest building, which had been the Bragg Hospital.
There was no light to be seen any place, excepting that which came from a fire outside, around which stood a crowd of shivering soldiers.
Wounded men, wrapped in their blankets, were lying on the balcony. I went into a room which was filled with others in the same state; some of whom were suffering for want of water. They all seemed perfectly resigned; the more so as we had been victorious. How they seemed to glory in it!
After finding a vacant room to put my baggage in, I went to our old friend, Mrs. Evans. She was delighted to see me, said she had often wondered what had become of Mrs. W. and myself.
She had passed through the fearful ordeal of having been under the fire of the enemy; and she was obliged to live in the woods for some days.
I remained there until after breakfast; then I went down to the main hospital, where I was introduced to the surgeon in charge, Dr. Ushery. He gave me bandages to roll; I was assisted by a young man by the name of Dearing, from Kentucky, who was disabled by being wounded in one of his arms. Mr. Green and the colored man were kept busy all day dressing wounds.
Mr. D. and myself sat on the up-stairs gallery, where we could see the wagon trains come in with their precious burdens. As many as fifty came in at one time. We rolled bandages until the afternoon, and could scarcely supply the demand. The surgeons were getting the wounded men ready to send off on the train. I was rejoiced when we were told we had rolled enough for that day. This work had been quite a trial for me, as I had been compelled to see our poor fellows brought in as they were taken from the field hospital, and I had no chance of doing any thing for them.
There had been no rain for some time, and the wagons raised the dust in clouds, and when the men were taken out of them they were almost as black as negroes.
I took the blackberry wine which Dr. D. had given me and put it in a bucket of water, which made a nice drink. With it and something to eat, Mr. D. and I went down and waited on the men; I never saw any thing relished as much as it was. When we came to Mississippians, and told them it was from Mississippi, they relished it still more. I wondered if the ladies of Mississippi who made it had the least idea by whom and where it would be used.
While in one of the rooms a gentleman came up to me and said he was rejoiced to see me, and that I was the first lady he had seen there. He told me these men were Kentuckians, and that he was leaving on the train with some wounded. Ho said any attention I paid to these sufferers he would take as a personal favor.
After he left I asked one of the men who he was, and was informed he was Professor Pickett, a Baptist minister, and chaplain of a Kentucky brigade, and that he was a true Christian and zealous patriot, and had done much good in the cause.
We went into the cars which were filled with the wounded. Mr. D., while waiting on the patients, ran the risk of having his arm again broken, as he had the use of but one hand.
About dark I took some cloth for bandages and went to Mrs. Evans’s to remain all night. On reaching there I met a widow lady, Mrs. ——. I asked Mrs. E. what the ladies of the place were doing, as not one of them had visited the hospital that day; and I said, if they would all roll bandages, that would be all I would ask of them. Mrs. —— did not seem to like my remarks, and said the surgeons had never asked them, and that the Federals had taken all the cloth they had to make bandages with. I answered her that I supposed the surgeons thought the ladies did not need asking, and that there was plenty of cloth at the hospitals. She said she would work at them to-morrow. She then assisted me with what I had.
Colonels Walter and Hays, who were stopping at Mrs. E.’s, came in. Colonel W. said, word for word, what I had about the ladies; only added that such neglect pained him very much. To this Mrs. —— said nothing.
I think these two gentlemen were there for the purpose of seeing that the wounded were properly cared for. I believe they are on General Bragg’s staff. Colonel W. was very talkative. He spoke highly of the Mobile ladies and their beauty; said it was a dangerous place for any one who was at all susceptible of the tender passion, and that, fortified as he was by age and a wife, he nearly lost his heart. Both of these men seemed high-toned gentlemen; such as most all our educated southerners are.
Next morning, the 30th, I arose early, and took a hurried breakfast, and when leaving asked Mrs. —— if she intended coming for the bandages. She answered, with emphasis, “I never go to hospitals, but will send for them.”
On reaching the hospital, to my joy and surprise, I found that Dr. Stout had arrived early in the morning, and with him a hospital corps of surgeons and nurses; among them my kind friends, Dr. Burt and Mrs. Ellis. I knew that now the wounded would be well cared for.
Dr. Stout and his corps had been at the “Burnt Shed” for some days. He told me that when he went there, he found quite a number of regimental surgeons, and, to his sorrow, nearly all were intoxicated. He had done what he could to have every thing put in as good order as the place would admit of. He also said that no words could tell the amount of good which had been done by the Georgia Relief Committees; that had it not been for them, many of our men would have died of starvation. Part of the Atlanta Committee (I think it was) was then with him. He introduced me to some of the members; among them was Neal Brown, ex-governor of Tennessee, who was a Unionist when the war broke out; but after seeing how badly the Federal government acted, joined our side.
I had made up my mind, on seeing so many there to take care of the wounded, that I would go right back to Newnan, as I had left Mrs. W. quite sick, and much work to do.
I have always had a great desire to go on a battle-field. I can not call it idle curiosity; but a wish to see and know the most of every thing, so that I might judge for myself, and know how I may be of service.
There was a Mrs. Weir, from Griffin, Georgia, who had come to nurse her son. He had lost a leg, and was at a private house near the battle-field. This lady told me she had a young friend, whose corpse she had heard was still-on the battle-field unburied. She kindly asked me to go with her.
The field was some fifteen miles distant; so we had to watch our chances of getting a conveyance. There were wagons coming in all the time with the wounded, but none going back that day; so an opportunity for getting out seemed slender. Mr. Dearing was on the watch for us. A very nice-looking covered private wagon came, and after depositing its load, Mr. D. requested the owner to take us; but he stoutly refused, saying his horses were completely worn out. Mr. D. then told him that there was one of the ladies who had nursed at least one thousand Confederates, and was very anxious to go out to the field. He immediately drew up and invited us all in, Mr. D. going with us.
We found our kind driver quite intelligent and very talkative. He related to us many anecdotes of the late battle. His name was Tedford. The first line of battle was formed on his farm, but I believe was moved before there was any fighting. His wife’s pantry had suffered from our own men. She was ordered out of the house, and took shelter in the woods. After the battle, when the men found the house deserted, they went in and took every thing they could get; even taking some preserves which Mrs. T. had hid away in an attic. They also took her clothes and tore them up; the latter might have been done for the benefit of the wounded, which Mr. T. seemed to think. He did not grumble, for he was too happy about our having gained the victory for that.
The battle was partly fought at Tedford’s Ford, on his brother’s farm, and he said that the havoc made there was very great.
He related an incident to us about his brother, or one of his neighbor’s sons, who had been in the service during the war. He had been on duty at a post far south, and had been sent to Bragg’s army when it was reinforced. He was killed on or near his father’s farm.
We traveled over the roughest roads I ever was on. I thought, if this was the road our wounded had to come, they must indeed suffer; and, sure enough, we met what seemed to me hundreds of wagons, with their loads, going to Ringgold. We also saw many wounded men wending their way on foot, looking wearied enough. We stopped and spoke to them; all were cheerful.
On arriving at Mr. Strickland’s house, where Mrs. Weir’s son was, Mr. T. begged me to go on to Mr. Hunt’s, where part of Hindman’s Division Hospital was. He told me that there was a nice young lady there, Miss H., who was doing a great deal for the wounded, and he was certain she would be delighted to have my help. The temptation was a great one. I was anxious to see what a field hospital was like, and to know if I could be of any service; and another thing, I had heard nothing certain regarding my brother. He was in Hindman’s division; so I thought by going there I might hear from him.
On our way we met Dr. Ray, who had just heard of a brother being badly wounded, and was on his way to see him. He and the other surgeons had had a hard time since leaving us. They had wandered two days on foot in search of head-quarters, or any one who could tell them where to go. They had been all that time without food, but had come across a pig, which they had pressed. They had quite a number of nurses with them. I think he said they were at Claiborne’s Division Hospital, and if I recollect the number rightly, he told me the first day they went there, there were no less than twelve hundred men to attend. This seems almost incredible, but we have had many more wounded than killed. He also told me that at first they had neither food to give the men or cloth to dress their wounds, and that at present rags were very scarce. I promised to send them some, and go and see them.
Mr. Hunt’s house was a small cottage, surrounded by a garden. In the latter were tents, flies, and sheds, which were filled with wounded. I went to the house with Mr. T., who introduced me to one of the surgeons. He informed me that this was Managault’s Brigade Hospital, and also that Captain Chamberlain and Lieutenant Cooper of the Twenty-fourth Alabama Regiment were lying badly wounded in the house. I went in to see them; found them lying on the floor, but on mattresses. They were old friends, and glad to see me. Captain C. looked very badly, as besides his being . wounded his health was delicate. *
I was introduced to Miss Hunt, a very nice-looking young girl, and as I had already heard much of her kindness to the soldiers, knew she was a true southern woman.
My wounded friends informed me that Lieutenant Bond of the company of which my brother is a member had been to see them, and but one man had been killed in the company.
Captain C. introduced me to the surgeons—Drs. Cochran of the Twenty-fourth Alabama Regiment, Gibbs, and Gourie, who had charge of the hospital; the latter I had met before in Chattanooga. Dr. C. took me around to see the Mobilians—an old man by the name of Chillion, Mr. New, and Mr. Brown—neither of whom I had seen before. Mr. Chillion is a brother of Mr. C., a well-known Roman Catholic priest. He is now in his seventieth year, and has been in the service since the commencement of the war. He went through the Kentucky campaign, and every other in which the Twenty-fourth Alabama Regiment has been, and kept up as well as the youngest man. The poor old man actually cried when he found out who I was. He is a Frenchman, and I could scarcely make him understand me. He requested me to write to Mrs. Chaudron and Mrs. Perey Walker of Mobile, and let them know where he was. The men were lying on bunks made out of branches of trees.
I visited the room where Mr. Hunt and his family were. They had been driven from every corner of their house, which was filled with wounded, and had taken shelter in a small kitchen. I don’t know how many there were, but this room was sleeping-room, dining-room, kitchen, and every thing else for the whole family. In it were two bedsteads, and some of the family were then lying sick. I heard no grumbling or complaint from any of them, with the exception of the old man, who sat by the fire, and it is not much to be wondered that he murmured a little.
Before the battle his farm was stocked and his barn filled with grain, and now he has nothing left but the house over his head. Winter is coming on, and with it want and starvation for him and his family; as all the neighbors for miles around had shared the same fate, he could expect no aid from them.
Before the battle the enemy had full possession of that country, and helped themselves to what they wanted. After the battle our troops took what was left, the houses being empty, as the inmates were forced to fly from the bullets. There had been fighting in Mr. H.’s yard, and many killed there.
It was in this house that Captain O’Brien had breathed his last. He lived two days after he was wounded.
When Miss H. and I retired for the night, we went up into a loft in the house, which had no flooring. We had to be careful for fear of falling through the plastering. It was filled with furniture, which had been taken out of the rooms. We had a mattress, with which we made a comfortable bed.
The next morning when Miss H. got up, as there were no windows, it was as dark as night. The ceiling was so low we could not stand upright. On coming down-stairs we found it raining in torrents, and as there were so many persons crowded together, it was any thing else but comfortable. The surgeons ate in the hall, and very kindly asked me to take breakfast with them, but I declined; I felt as if I never should eat again. The scenes with which I was surrounded had taken away all my appetite. They sent me a cup of pure coffee, which did me more good than any thing I ever took in my life. I think if Cowper had drank coffee instead of tea, he would have found it a still more cheering beverage.
I found my two friends much better than they were the evening previous. I had a small basket with me, into which I had put a few articles on leaving Ringgold, thinking I might meet some one on the road who would need them. I had no idea when leaving Ringgold of visiting any of the hospitals, as I had been told I could be of no service in them, or I should have taken plenty of every thing with me. I had a few biscuits and a box of sardines; the latter I received from the Mobile Hebrew Military Aid Society while I was in Chattanooga. I divided them around, and they seemed to be relished.
The Georgia Aid Society had as yet done nothing for this hospital. There seemed to be no food of any kind, excepting cornbread and bacon, provided by the government; any thing else was private property. What cooking was done for the patients was done outside in the rain.
I found I could be of little service there, and became very anxious to get back to where I had left Mrs. Weir, as I knew I could very readily get a conveyance from there to Ringgold. Mr. D. tried everywhere to get some kind of a wagon, but his efforts were of no avail. He went to Mr. Tedford’s to ask him for his, but our men had broken into his barn the evening before, and taken what little corn he had left to feed his mules, and he had gone in search of provender.
It rained so hard that I found it impossible to visit the patients. I was gratified to see how much solicitude the surgeons exhibited for them. They were out in the rain nearly all the morning, trying to make the patients as comfortable as possible. They said that the rain was pouring down on some of them, but it could not be avoided. They informed me that from what they had heard of many of the other brigade hospitals, the men were in a much worse plight than theirs. They blamed Dr. Foard for not attending to their wants, or appointing a deputy. They had a number of patients who were ready for transportation, but there were no wagons.
I asked what Drs. Foard and Flewellyn were doing, and said that I thought these hospitals their especial care. Was answered, “They were watching General Bragg look at the army.”
There was a man there who had had his arm cut off on the late battle-field, and he was not only walking about, but nursing the others, and apparently quite well.
I assisted Miss Hunt in making some arrow-root, and showed how she could prepare it without milk, as that article was scarce. Captain C. had a little wine, which made it very nice. There were no chickens or eggs to be had for miles around.
I have always found eggnog the best thing ever given to wounded men. It is not only nourishing, but a stimulant.
Miss H. is very pleasant, well educated, and intelligent. She was assiduous in her attention to the suffering.
Captain C. was expecting his wife, and Lieutenant C. his mother. I should like to have remained until these ladies came, but I could not.
Deus’s Brigade Hospital I wished to visit, but the rain prevented mc. I heard there were some Mobilians wounded there, among them Mr. Murray, adjutant Thirty-sixth Alabama Regiment.
As we found it impossible to get a wagon, Drs. Oouric and Gibbs kindly offered the use of their horses, which was gratefully accepted. Miss H. loaned me her saddle and skirt.
I took leave of my two Mobile friends with many regrets. I had seen numbers die from such wounds as theirs, and did not know but this might be the last time we would meet on earth.
As we rode out of the yard I tried to look neither to the right or left, for I knew there were many pairs of eyes looking sadly at us from the sheds and tents. I could do nothing for them, and when that is the case I try to steel my heart against their sorrows.
I saw men cooking out in the rain; it seemed like hard work keeping the fire up; a perfect war between the two elements; all around had a most cheerless aspect.
As we rode out the tents of the different field hospitals came in view; when we thought of the inmates and their sufferings, it only served to add to the gloom.
I looked in the direction of the battlefield, and thought of the nameless dead who were there. A nation weeps for them, and that day nature, like Rachel, was shedding tears for her children, because they were not.
I thought of the awful conflict which had so recently raged between brother and brother. “O, what a field of fratricide was there!” it makes one cry out in anguish, as did brave Faulkland of old. “Peace! Peace! when will it come? Alas! who can tell?”
We were near that fatal stream—the Chickamauga—the “River of Death!” How prophetic its name! I could think of nothing but that terrible strife, and our gallant patriots that fell there.
But the horrors of that fight
Were the weeping muse to tell,
Oh, ’twould cleave the womb of night,
And awake the dead that fell!
Gashed with honourable scars,
Low in Glory’s lap they lie;
Though they fell, they fell like stars,
Streaming splendour through the sky.
Yet shall Memory mourn that day,
When with expectation pale
Of her soldier far away,
The poor widow hears the tale
In imagination wild,
She shall wandor o’or this plain;
Rave and bid her orphan child
Seek his sire among the slain.
Harp of Memnon! sweetly strung
To the music of the spheres;
While the hero’s dirge is sung,
Breathe enchantment to our ears.
None but solemn, tender tones
Tremble from thy plaintive wires;
Hark! the wounded warrior groans;
Hush thy warbling—he expires.
Hark! while sorrow wales and weeps,
O’er his relics cold and pale,
Night her silent vigils keeps,
In a mournful moonlit vale.
Then thy tones triumphant pour—
Let them pierce the hero’s grave;
Life’s tumultuous battle o’er,
O, how sweetly sleep the brave.
From the dust their laurels bloom—
High they shoot and flourish free;
Glory’s temple is the tomb—
Death is immortality.”
When I arrived at Mrs. Strickland’s I was pretty well soaked. Mrs. S. gave me a change of garments, and seated by a nice fire, I forgot that I had ever been out in the rain.
Like her neighbors, Mrs. S. has suffered in the way of provisions, and is now drawing rations from our government.
Mrs. Weir found her son improved in health. There were more wounded men there, but the house is not so crowded as Mr. Hunt’s. There were some few tents in the yard.
On the next day, October 2d, the sun shone out brightly, casting a joyous glow over all nature. Two days before Mrs. Weir had visited a hospital, and had promised to take the men clothes. She and I went to the Georgia Relief Society, and procured some, and took them to the men, but we found their bunks empty. Since Mrs. W. visited them they had gone the way of all the earth. The hospital belonged to General Brown’s brigade. As there was no one else in it needing clothes, we went to Cheatham’s Division Hospital, which was near. Dr. Rice, the chief surgeon, very kindly offered to take us through the hospital. He spoke very highly in praise of the Georgia Relief Society, and of the good which it had done.
Dr. R. introduced us to one of his surgeons, who took us into a “fly” about one hundred feet long, and every man in it had a limb amputated. It was a sad sight, and I could scarcely refrain from tears.
I told them they had the consolation of having suffered for the right and in self-defense. Compared with them how pitiable were the hundreds of wounded prisoners, whose hospital was in sight of them, for they had no such consolation.
We had a basket full of eatables, but scarcely any wanted them; all had plenty, given by the societies; we found it the same with the clothes.
We went into another place, where we were told the worst wounded were. As soon as I went in my name was pronounced; I found it was by a man who had been one of our cooks in the Newsom Hospital. Poor fellow I he was so overjoyed to see me he could scarcely speak. He said while there he had thought of Mrs. W. and myself a thousand times, and wished he was with us. Every thing was done for him that could possibly be in that place, but it was very far from being the Newsom Hospital. His wound was a very painful one, and he said he suffered mostly for want of soft rags. I gave him some few which I had with me, and Mrs. W. promised to send him more. (She has come well provided with every thing for the wounded.) I have been told by surgeons that many a time they have had nothing but old tent cloth to bind up wounds.
I reluctantly left my friend, and almost wished I had not seen him, as it was impossible for me to remain with him.
The surgeon who went around with us wished to know if we wanted to see any more. I told him no; I had seen enough. He kindly offered to go with us to where the prisoners were; but, knowing we could do nothing for them, we refused. I had seen enough harrowing scenes among our own men to make me miserable. The surgeon informed us that the prisoners were as well cared for as was possible under the circumstances.
As Mrs. W. and I walked back I thought I never had been out in a more beautiful day; the sun was glimmering through the trees, arraying them with brilliant tints. The woods were changing their summer garb, and decking themselves in gorgeous autumn costume ere stern winter came to dismantle them. Longfellow’s Ode to Autumn was fully realized here.
“There is a beautiful spirit breathing now
Its mellow richness on the cluster’d trees;
The gentle wind—a sweet and passionate wooer—
Kissing the blushing leaf, and stirs up life
Within the solemn woods of ash-deep crimson,
And silver beech, and maple, yellow-loafed.”
As we walked along, Mrs. Weir and I said what a pity it was the enemy would not let us enjoy our country by ourselves; and we had not the least objection to have them come and live peacefully with us. There was certainly room enough for all. But why talk of these things now? The day for them seems to have passed forever.
I remarked to Mrs. W. that I would like to have a relic from the battle-field of Chickamauga. As I said this, two young soldiers come out of the woods; one stepped up to me and remarked, he had a book that he had taken out of the pocket of a dead Federal, and that, if I would accept it, I could have it with pleasure.
On receiving it, I asked the soldier his name and regiment. The former I have forgotten; he was a member of the Fourth Arkansas Regiment. Both of the young men walked on whistling, as if they had not a care in the world.
The book was a small one, with a red cover, and was stained with blood. It is an allegory called the “Journey Home,” by Rev. E. A. Monro. It had likely been given to the poor fellow out of whose pocket it had been taken by a mother or sister, ere his departure from his home, with a prayer that it might help to prepare him for the journey which he had now taken. The fly-leaf was torn out, and there was no name, no mark of any kind on the book.
Early in the morning of that day I made eggnog for Mrs. W.’s son and the rest of the wounded. On going out to the tents, I met a gentleman taking care of a wounded man. When he spoke, I recognized him as a son of the “land of brown heath.” I asked him what part of Scotland he was from. At the question he seemed astonished, and wanted to know how I knew he was Scotch. I do not think he liked my knowing it by his accent—a weakness I have noticed many Scotch people have on this side of the water. I do not see why, as I think it is the sweetest accent in the world. He had been a number of years in this country. He and his friends were recently from Augusta, Georgia.
There had been a number of Georgia troops wounded and killed in this last battle. I had concluded not to visit the battlefield, as much time had elapsed since the battle. I am told that the effluvia arising from the carnage makes it almost impossible to go within a mile of it.
There was no conveyance to get to town with, excepting the ambulances filled with wounded. I left Mrs. Strickland with many regrets. She had treated me with a great deal of kindness, and seemed to be an excellent, good-hearted lady. It was with difficulty I got her to take money for the time I had been in her house. I should not have offered her any, only I was fully aware of her destitute condition.
The ambulance drove up, and bidding Mrs. Weir and her son good-by, I took my seat by the driver, a soldier. Mr. Dearing went into the next ambulance. We were to lead one of those long dreary looking trains, of which I had seen so many.
There were two men with us; one was wounded in the jaw, and had the erysipelas very badly; the other had one of his legs broken, which was nicely fixed in a splint. The latter I expected to suffer very much from the jolting, but he seemed to suffer little compared with the other.
I thought I had seen the worst our men had to endure, but this ride proved I was mistaken. I never saw such roads in my life; the rain had been heavy and made deep ruts in it. We had to pass two or three fords, in which the water was so high that it nearly came into our wagon. We came to one which had a wagon stuck fast in it, and blocking up the way; our driver and some others had to unharness their mules and get it out of the mire before we could proceed. All this was very trying to the wounded, and the wonder to me is how they could live after such a ride, for it was really harrowing.
On arriving at the hospital I found a number of ladies there from Newnan; also our post surgeon, Dr. Gamble, and Dr. Gore of Bragg Hospital. I was delighted to see them all. The ladies had brought quantities of good things, which they were giving to the men as they were brought in. The wounded, to save them another move, were taken to the cars instead of the hospital.
There were also some gentlemen from Newnan; among them was Colonel Colyer, who seems to be an excellent man. He has suffered much by the war, having been driven from his state and home; but he bears it like a hero, and is always pleasant and never grumbling.
The ladies were Mrs. Dr. Reesse, Miss Julia Lowe, Miss Barber, and others whose names I have forgotten.
There was a Mrs. Welsh of St. Louis; she had gone up with the Lagrange Relief Society. She told me she had been imprisoned in St. Louis for attending to our wounded, and as she would not take the oath was exiled.
I sent out a quantity of rags and other things, given me by the Newnan ladies, to my friends at Managault Hospital, and to Dr. Ray at Cleiburne’s Division Hospital.
Numbers of persons were there looking for their relatives. I met a lady who was in Dr. Capers’s hospital in Corinth. Two of her sons were badly wounded, and she was on her way to see them. On the train coming up was a fine-looking lady, Mrs. Birch, who seemed to be in great distress about her son, who she had heard was badly wounded. She had found him and was taking him home. She was dressed in black, for a son who I think died in the Virginia army.
I saw thousands of small arms at the depot, which had been captured on the battle-field, and many prisoners.
At Ringgold I met Rev. Mr. Owen P. Thackery, an Episcopal clergyman from Florida. He was there with supplies for the Florida troops. He had stopped at many of the hospitals on his way up, and was much pleased with the manner with which they were conducted, and he said what gave him more pleasure than that was the religious feeling expressed by the men. A lady has come with him to enter the hospitals. She was then at Marietta, and Dr. Gamble requested me to stop on my way to Newnan and take her with me.
Drs. Bateman and Sizemore came to see me, and gave me a history of all their troubles since leaving Newnan. They said they had been in want of every thing for the wounded, and that they fully believed many a man had died for the want of nourishment, and that when they did get any thing they had nothing to cook it in, and no one that knew how to cook.
From what they said, and from my own observations, I feel confident that ladies could be of much service in field hospitals.
And if I only had the means, there is where I should go. I could get some one to assist me, who would go for the pure love of doing good. We could have an independent conveyance, and as we should be non-combatants and sisters of charity (they have always been respected by the enemy), we could do what I have often wished: go through the lines and take care of our badly wounded who are prisoners.
Dr. Burt is in charge of the hospital, and is busy getting it fixed. As I was detained in Ringgold a day longer than I expected, I went to try and get some furniture for the hospital, and fortunately met with Dr. Stickney, medical purveyor of Polk’s corps. He kindly supplied me with many things, and gave a promise of more.
I also met my friend, Dr. Young, who gave me some relies which he had picked off the battle-field; among them some letters. One of them was from a young girl in Illinois to her cousin.
In reading it I could not but wonder how she could sit down and encourage her friends to come here as murderers and robbers, for they are nothing else. She raves about the Union as I have heard the men do. I think they must all be demented to even talk of such a thing now. They speak of us as if we did not have common sense, and had to be dictated to by them. She calls herself a “real sucker.” That has certainly a lady-like sound.
She then goes on to tell her cousin that she and all the others thought that as they had had a great many victories lately the rebels were completely whipped; but she had evidently just heard of the repulse at Charleston, and she is afraid the war is not over yet. Poor thing, what will she say when she hears of the repulse the “dear Union soldiers” have had up here? She says they must expect the bitter with the sweet; I think she will have a good deal of bitter yet before the rebels are whipped.
She then says she knows it is the Lord’s doing, and ere long the fetters will be broken and the negro set free. I should like to know what kind of freedom she means; if it is the hatred and contempt which is generally shown the negro by these dear lovers of the race, excepting when they wish to use them in politics, and then, if they could, I think they would raise a certain old gentleman from the lower regions to aid them to get office.
If the negro should be set free by this war, which I believe he will be, whether we gain or not, it will be the Lord’s doing. The time has come when his mission has ended as a slave, and while he has been benefited by slavery the white race has suffered from its influence.
We all know what the negro is free and as a slave. In the latter capacity he is better, morally and physically, than in the former, and he is much more respected in his place. Who is it that can not relate story after story of the degradation of the negro in the North and in the West India Islands? Why, slavery is heaven to it in comparison. That the South has not fully done her duty by them I do not believe any good southerner will deny; but who does his whole duty, and whose fault is it that she has not done so in this respect? None but the abolitionists’; for instead of our statesmen spending their time in legislating for the good of their country and all in it, they have been spending it in combating the evil influences which have been engendered by these fanatics and base politicians. —
Captain Marryatt, whose opinion, notwithstanding all his prejudices, I think ought to go for something, in his diary, said, with a prophetic ken, which has been but too truly fulfilled, that, from his observations of the abolitionists, unless the wise people of the North would rise in their might and put that party down, they would be the cause of the Union being dissolved, and of one of the most horrible civil wars this world has ever seen. This book was written over thirty years ago, and we all know that the author did not favor the system of slavery.
This girl goes on to tell how the copperheads in her state were trying to have peace meetings, and that the ladies of the section in which she lived sang “Union songs” and broke up the meetings. What a laudable enterprise that!
I can not but admire her spirit in the conclusion of the letter, and I only hope that a similar one is in all of our southern women, for our very existence is at stake; but not so with our enemies.
She says she would rather know that the dearest friend she had was wounded on the battle-field than hear of his deserting. She also tells the recipient that, if he wishes to please her, he must do his duty as a soldier. He has taken her advice, and gone where he will be judged according to the light given him in this world. May the Lord have mercy on his soul!
I left Ringgold on the afternoon of the 3d. Mr. McHenry, one of Dr. Burt’s nurses, went to Marietta with me. We arrived there about daylight Sunday morning, the 4th. 1 went to the Gilmer Hospital, where my friends, Dr. Cannon and Mrs. Crocker, are staying.
Marietta is one of the prettiest towns in Georgia, and is quite an aristocratic place. At present it is filled with refugees from all parts of the Confederate States. It is the capital of Cobb County, Georgia; is situated on the Western and Atlantic Railroad, and is twenty miles north-west of Atlanta. Kenesaw Mountain, which is a very high one, is some few miles distant. The town itself is higher than any other on the railroad; I went to church with Dr. C; the church was a very neat little building. I heard an excellent sermon preached by the rector, Mr. Benedict, on the subject of Esau selling his birthright. I could not but think how many of us are equally guilty. After service, Dr. C. introduced me to Mr. B., who kindly invited me to go and stay at his house, which invitation I accepted.
I met my friend, Mr. E. Stickney, and he assisted me in finding Mrs. Harrison, the lady from Florida, with whom I made arrangements to come to Newnan. She has a large quantity of wines and delicacies brought from Florida for the benefit of the wounded.
We then paid a visit to Mrs. Newsom, who is in the Academy Hospital. She did not look well. We had a long talk about the late battle. By it she has lost many friends. I told her how agreeably surprised I was at finding our wounded at the field hospital as well cared for as they were; she thought as I did, she having been there to see her brother.
I think that Dr. Heustis has done a vast deal of good by the pictures he drew of the suffering and horrors which he had seen; but had he ever been at Corinth, I do not think he would have been quite so shocked.
Before the afternoon service, I went round with Dr. C. and visited the patients in the Gilmer Hospital. One of them presented a sad sight. He was a young lad, with both eyes shot out. Mrs. Crocker told me he had never been heard to murmur. I took a note of his name, as I intended inquiring about him again. His name is T. C. Wyatt, from Jasper County, Mississippi, and a member of the Eighth Mississippi Regiment.
Dr. C. took me to visit a Scotchman, who seemed pleased to see me. The hospital is a very fine one, and every thing in it is in perfect order.
At the afternoon service Dr. C. played the organ. A lady and myself assisted in the singing. After service we all went to Mr. Benedict’s house, and spent a pleasant evening. I heard a conversation between two gentlemen about our late battle. One made some very harsh remarks about General Bragg; the other wished to know why he made them, and said, was it because he had gained the most brilliant victory of the war, or because he had dared to arrest General Polk? and said, if the latter, he could not but applaud him, as it showed, no matter how high the offender, he would be brought to justice.
I was admiring Mr. B.’s church, and he informed me that it was the first Sunday he had had service for some time, as the church had been stripped, as every other church in the place, for a hospital; but that the post surgeon had found out he could do without them. Mr. B. has a lovely wife and six children. I left them the next morning with many regrets, and shall ever feel grateful for their kindness.
I had a letter of introduction from Dr. Gamble to Mrs. Major Fairbanks, but did not have time to deliver it. Mr. B. procured her carriage for me to go and see Mrs. General Anderson, who was living in the country. There I was introduced to Mrs. Bibia, a fine old lady, the General’s mother, who was going to Atlanta on the same train with me.
Mrs. Crocker and I went shopping. I bought a very common dress and paid three dollars per yard. In good times it would have cost ten cents. At the Gilmer Hospital I met Captain Prendagrast. He had been in the British army, and is now a member of the Tenth Tennessee Regiment, and was wounded in the late battle.
While at Marietta I was told that the refugees in that place had behaved very badly, especially those from New Orleans. They had come there and treated the citizens as if they were far beneath them, and had done little else but give balls and parties. I suppose the refugees are as much to blame ns the people for the treatment they have received. I left Marietta about 3 P. M. At the train I met Mr. Benedict, who was going to Augusta, and Mrs. B . We were detained some time at the depot.
While there we heard a soldier on top of the train make a speech. We, however, could not make out what he said, but knew it must be something amusing from the mirth it caused, and the hearty applause with which it was received. A young man came in and told Mrs. B. that the soldier was pretending that he was one of “Joe Brown’s Pets,” as the Georgia militia are called. He was telling a piteous story about the manner in which he had been treated; said he had been the whole of two weeks in the army, and as yet had nary a furlough, and also said the Georgia militia were nobly defending the rear of Bragg’s army. The poor militia have many taunts to stand.
While on the train I conversed with a very intelligent lady, who had just come through the lines. She was in Shelbyville when our army had to retreat from there, and in the hurry broke her arm, and had been compelled to remain. She went I think to Winchester, where General Rosecrans had his head-quarters. There she saw how the “dear Union army” treated the people. She said the soldiers went into any place they pleased, took every thing they wanted, and she had observed that when the officers were appealed to they made a fuss and talked a great deal, but did not pretend to have the thing restored. General R. tried to be very attentive to her, but she refused to accept any of his kindness. He very gentlemanly entertained her by telling her how bad off we were, and taunting her with it. He seemed to be well posted about every thing that was being done in the Confederacy. She thinks that we must have many spies among us.
I have always thought the southern people were too confiding, and put faith where they ought not to. I should not like to see them with the cunning of the Yankee, but I think they ought to act with more caution and discretion, as that is nothing but wisdom.
Every second man in the North might be a spy, and it would make little matter, as we are not going there to take any thing from them; but the case is very different with us. One spy in any of our cities might be its ruin.
On reaching Atlanta Mr. Benedict went shopping with me. I bought a net for the hair, and for it I paid fifteen dollars. In good times it would have been fifty cents. Mr. B. ordered one hundred pamphlet prayer-books for me, which will be very acceptable to the men.
On reaching here I found Mrs. W. much improved in health, and the hospital filled with sick.
We would much prefer being nearer the front, and if our army is successful our hospital will return to Ringgold. I found some letters awaiting me. In one from my father, he is quite desponding. He thinks the late victory will amount to nothing, as Bragg is too long making a move. “Why stands Scotland idly now?”
