Mississippi. I, with my servant, Tempe,
occupied one room of a small, double house, built of rough-hewn logs,
and raised a few feet from the ground; a sort of hall, open at both
ends, separated my room from one on the opposite side occupied by Dr.
---- and his wife. All around, as far as one could see, amid the white
snow and with lofty pine-trees towering above them, extended the
hospital-tents, and in these lay the sick, the wounded, the dying.
Hospital-supplies were scarce, our rations of the plainest articles,
which, during the first years of the war, were considered absolute
necessaries, had become priceless luxuries. Eggs, butter, chickens
came in such small quantities that they must be reserved for the very
sick. The cheerfulness, self-denial, and fellow-feeling shown by those
who were even partly convalescent, seemed to me to be scarcely less
admirable than the bravery which had distinguished them on the
battle-field. But this is a digression: let me hasten to relate how I
was helped to a decision as to Christmas "goodies." One morning, going
early to visit some wounded soldiers who had come in during the night,
I found in one tent a newcomer, lying in one of the bunks, his head
and face bandaged and bloody. By his side sat his comrade,--wounded
also, but less severely,--trying to soften for the other some
corn-bread, which he was soaking and beating with a stick in a tin cup
of cold water. He explained that the soldier with the bandaged head
had been shot in the mouth, and could take only soft food. I said,
"Don't give him that. I will bring him some mush and milk, or some
chicken soup." He set down the cup, looked at me with queer, half-shut
eyes, then remarked, "Yer ga-assin' now, ain't ye?"

Having finally convinced him that I was not, I retired for a moment to
send the nurse for some food. When it came, and while I was slowly
putting spoonfuls of broth into the poor, shattered mouth of his
friend, he stood looking on complacently, though with his lip
quivering. I said to him, "Now, what would _you_ like?" After a
moment's hesitation he replied, "Well, lady, I've been sort of
hankerin' after a sweet-potato pone, but I s'pose ye couldn't noways
get that?" "There," thought I, "that's just what I will get and give
them all for Christmas dinner."

Hastening to interview the surgeon in charge, I easily obtained
permission to go on the next day among the farmers to collect
materials for my feast. An ambulance wa