heads mournfully before the inhumanity of war. I was at the hospital during the afternoon.
Ambulance after ambulance drove up, and deposited its bloody and mangled human contents.
Abundant surgical attendance, the sympathies of comrades, and the kindest of colored female nurses were there.
Every thing that skill and attention could do was done; but no human sympathy can replace the mother, sister, or wife.
No kindness can allay the anguish of a mangled and lost limb.
One poor fellow, Captain Lee, of the One Hundred and Twelfth Illinois, had his upper jaw shot away, and his legs torn to fragments, yet lived twelve hours. As I carefully cut the pants and boot from another whose leg had been fractured terribly by a Minie ball, he bore the agony manfully.
He asked if the leg could be saved.
I told him I feared not. Well, said he, after a pause, I can afford one leg for my country — take it off!
During a moment's cessation of torture, his eyes brightened, and he triumphantly exclai