June 18th.IN one of the hospitals I find Thomas Haley, company M, 4th New York cavalrya regular Irish boy, a fine specimen of youthful physical manlinessshot through the lungsinevitably dyingcame over to this country from Ireland to enlisthas not a single friend or acquaintance hereis sleeping soundly at this moment, (but it is the sleep of death)has a bullet-hole straight through the lung. I saw Tom when first brought here, three days since, and didnt suppose he could live twelve hours(yet he looks well enough in the face to a casual observer.) He lies there with his frame exposed above the waist, all naked, for coolness, a fine built man, the tan not yet bleachd from his cheeks and neck. It is useless to talk to him, as with his sad hurt, and the stimulants they give him, and the utter strangeness of every object, face, furniture, &c., the poor fellow, even when awake, is like some frightend, shy animal. Much of the time he sleeps, or half sleeps. (Sometimes I thought he knew more than he showd.) I often come and sit by him in perfect silence; he will breathe for ten minutes as softly and evenly as a young babe asleep. Poor youth, so handsome, athletic, with profuse beautiful shining hair. One time as I sat looking at him while he lay asleep, he suddenly, without the least start, awakend, opend his eyes, gave me a long steady look, turning his face very slightly to gaze easierone long, clear, silent looka slight sighthen turnd back and went into his doze again. Little he knew, poor death-stricken boy, the heart of the stranger that hoverd near.
W. H. E., CO. F., 2d N. J.His disease is pneumonia. He lay sick at the wretched hospital below Aquia creek, for seven or eight days before brought here. He was detaild from his regiment to go there and help as nurse, but was soon taken down himself. Is an elderly, sallow-faced, rather gaunt, gray-haird man, a widower, with children. He expressd a great desire for good, strong green tea. An excellent lady, Mrs. W., of Washington, soon sent him a package; also a small sum of money. The doctor said give him the tea at pleasure; it lay on the table by his side, and he used it every day. He slept a great deal; could not talk much, as he grew deaf. Occupied bed 15, ward I, Armory. (The same lady above, Mrs. W., sent the men a large package of tobacco.)
J. G. lies in bed 52, ward I; is of company B, 7th Pennsylvania. I gave him a small sum of money, some tobacco, and envelopes. To a man adjoining also gave twenty-five cents; he flushd in the face when I offerd itrefused at first, but as I found he had not a cent, and was very fond of having the daily papers to read, I prest it on him. He was evidently very grateful, but said little.
J. T. L., of company F., 9th New Hampshire, lies in bed 37, ward I. Is very fond of tobacco. I furnish him some; also with a little money. Has gangrene of the feet; a pretty bad case; will surely have to lose three toes. Is a regular specimen of an old-fashiond, rude, hearty, New England countryman, impressing me with his likeness to that celebrated singed cat, who was better than she lookd.
Bed 3, ward E, Armory, has a great hankering for pickles, something pungent. After consulting the doctor, I gave him a small bottle of horse-radish; also some apples; also a book. Some of the nurses are excellent. The woman-nurse in this ward I like very much. (Mrs. Wrighta year afterwards I found her in Mansion house hospital, Alexandriashe is a perfect nurse.)
In one bed a young man, Marcus Small, company K, 7th Mainesick with dysentery and typhoid feverpretty critical caseI talk with him oftenhe thinks he will dielooks like it indeed. I write a letter for him home to East Livermore, MaineI let him talk to me a little, but not much, advise him to keep very quietdo most of the talking myselfstay quite a while with him, as he holds on to my handtalk to him in a cheering, but slow, low and measured mannertalk about his furlough, and going home as soon as he is able to travel.
Thomas Lindly, 1st Pennsylvania cavalry, shot very badly through the footpoor young man, he suffers horribly, has to be constantly dosed with morphine, his face ashy and glazed, bright young eyesI give him a large handsome apple, lay it in sight, tell him to have it roasted in the morning, as he generally feels easier then, and can eat a little breakfast. I write two letters for him.
Opposite, an old Quaker lady is sitting by the side of her son, Amer Moore, 2d U. S. artilleryshot in the head two weeks since, very low, quite rationalfrom hips down paralyzedhe will surely die. I speak a very few words to him every day and eveninghe answers pleasantlywants nothing(he told me soon after he came about his home affairs, his mother had been an invalid, and he feard to let her know his condition.) He died soon after she came