November 13.—Dr. Bemiss left to-day. He is going to assist Dr. Stout . We all regret his leaving. To use the phrase of a friend, “he is a gentleman and scholar, with his heart in the right place.” A more devoted patriot we have not in the cause.
Dr. J. N. Hughes of Kentucky is his successor, and I am told is a true patriot and a high-toned southern gentleman.
Our wounded are doing badly; gangrene in its worst form has broken out among them. Those whom we thought were almost well are now suffering severely. A wound which a few days ago was not the size of a silver dime is now eight or ten inches in diameter.
The surgeons are doing all in their power to stop its progress. Nearly every man in the room where they were so full of jokes has taken it; there is very little laughing among them now. It is a most painful disease, and plays sad havoc with the men every way. We can not tempt them to eat, and we have very little sweet milk, and that is the cry with them all. Many a day I have felt as if I would walk any distance to get it for them. It is distressing to go into the wards for I hear but the one cry— milk!
I have told every body that I have met about it, but with no effect. If all would give a very little, there is no end to the amount of good of which it would be productive.
The people say that they use it for their negroes and children, as they have no fresh meat; but I expect they could spare a little for these wounded patriots.
Mrs. Johnston’s little boy, my talkative friend, comes every day with milk. His mother tolls mo that she can not get him to taste it himself, for he desires to bring his share to the soldiers.
We have had a number of ladies from the country visiting the wounded; many of them have come twenty miles. They bring baskets full of all kinds of eatables. It does me good to see them come, as the very best we can give wounded men is not enough. And another thing: the diet is a change; they bring ham, biscuits, chickens, pies, cakes, etc.
