I liked him; Jonathan Wallace, of Hurd co.,
Georgia, age 30 (wife, Susan F. Wallace, Houston, Hurd co., Georgia.)
[If any good soul of that county should see this, I hope he will send
her this word.] Had a family; had not heard from them since taken
prisoner, now six months. I had written for him, and done trifles for
him, before he came here. He made no outward show, was mild in his
talk and behavior, but I knew he worried much inwardly. But now all
would be over very soon. I half sat upon the little stand near the
head of the bed. Wallace was somewhat restless. I placed my hand
lightly on his forehead and face, just sliding it over the surface.
In a moment or so he fell into a calm, regular-breathing lethargy or
sleep, and remain'd so while I sat there. It was dark, and the lights
were lit. I hardly know why (death seem'd hovering near,) but I stay'd
nearly an hour. A Sister of Charity, dress'd in black, with a broad
white linen bandage around her head and under her chin, and a black
crape over all and flowing down from her head in long wide pieces,
came to him, and moved around the bed. She bow'd low and solemn to
me. For some time she moved around there noiseless as a ghost, doing
little things for the dying man.
_December, '65_.--The only remaining hospital is now "Harewood,"
out in the woods, northwest of the city. I have been visiting there
regularly every Sunday during these two months.
_January 24, '66_.--Went out to Harewood early to-day, and remain'd
all day.
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