On another blank leaf he pencill'd to his brother, _dear
brother Thomas, I have been brave but wicked--pray for me._
HOSPITAL SCENES--INCIDENTS
It is Sunday afternoon, middle of summer, hot and oppressive, and very
silent through the ward. I am taking care of a critical case, now
lying in a half lethargy. Near where I sit is a suffering rebel, from
the 8th Louisiana; his name is Irving. He has been here a long time,
badly wounded, and lately had his leg amputated; it is not doing very
well. Right opposite me is a sick soldier-boy, laid down with his
clothes on, sleeping, looking much wasted, his pallid face on his arm.
I see by the yellow trimming on his jacket that he is a cavalry boy. I
step softly over and find by his card that he is named William Cone,
of the 1st Maine cavalry, and his folks live in Skowhegan.
_Ice Cream Treat_.--One hot day toward the middle of June, I gave the
inmates of Carver hospital a general ice cream treat, purchasing a
large quantity, and, under convoy of the doctor or head nurse, going
around personally through the wards to see to its distribution. _An
Incident_.--In one of the rights before Atlanta, a rebel soldier, of
large size, evidently a young man, was mortally wounded top of the
head, so that the brains partially exuded. He lived three days, lying
on his back on the spot where he first dropt. He dug with his heel in
the ground during that time a hole big enough to put in a couple of
ordinary knapsacks. He just lay there in the open air, and with little
intermission kept his heel going night and day.
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