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.
