that night; but I went to George, and when
the sun arose it looked upon two corpses, the remains of two who had
gone from my arms in one night, full of hope in the great Hereafter.

CHAPTER LXXV.

TAKE BOAT AND SEE A SOCIAL PARTY.

Next morning a new surgeon took charge, and ordered that hay to be
removed. The men clung to their beds and sent for me; I plead a respite,
in hopes of getting muslin to make ticks; but was soon detected in the
act of taking a bowl of broth to one of my patients. This the surgeon
forbade on the ground that it was not regular meal time. I said the man
was asleep at meal time. This he would not permit, men must be fed at
regular hours, or not at all, and the new authority informed me that

"More wounded soldiers had been killed by women stuffing them than by
anything else."

He had just come from Massachusetts, and this was his first day among
the wounded. I set my bowl down before the altar, found a surgeon who
ranked him, and stated the case, when the higher authority said:

"Give every man an ox, every day, if he will take it in beef tea."

"But, Doctor, there is nothing in beef tea. I give broth."

"Very good, give them whatever you please and whenever you please--we
can trust you."

The new surgeon was promptly dismissed, and when next I saw him he was
on his way back to Massachusetts.

That night a nurse came for me to go to the theater which had been
vacated, and once more almost filled with men who lay in total darkness,
without having any provision made for them. I got them lights, nurses
and food, but could not go back for another siege in that
building--could not leave my present post, but the city was being
evacuated. Both theater and church were emptied, and I went to the
tobacco warehouse, where Mrs. Ingersol was perplexed about a man with a
large bullet in his brain. When I had seen him and assured her that
another ounce of lead in a skull of that kind was of no consequence, she
redoubled her care, and I have no doubt he is living yet. But there was
one man in whom I felt a deep interest and for whom I saw little hope.
He had a chest wound, and had seemed to be doing well when there was a
hemorrhage, and he lay white and still almost as death. He must not
attempt to speak, and I was a godsend to him, for I knew what he needed
without being told, and gave him the best care I could. He was of a
Western State, and his name Dutton, and when I left him I thought he