Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 02.djvu/186

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176
Southern Historical Society Papers.

deserved honors on his unworthy head, by being chosen Vice-President.

November 10th—To my surprise and indignation, Knowles gave orders for no more meals to be carried to me, and that I should go to the tables on the ground floor provided for convalescents. I am required to go down and then up three steep flights of stairs, when I have not yet learned to use my crutches with any skill or ease, and have never yet attempted to walk out of my ward, and am still forced to carry my wounded leg and foot in a cloth swing suspended around my neck. Surely he cannot be in earnest, for he knows I am not able to go up and down those steps. My dinner was not brought me as formerly, and as I did not attempt to descend to the dining room, I had none. We have only two meals a day, breakfast and dinner: I have missed my dinner, and must go supperless to bed. Our meals are so scanty, that we can't afford to miss one. The loss of vital force and strength by the constant suppuration from my wound, which is still far from well, requires nutritious food, and plenty of it, to satisfy my craving appetite. As I lay on my hard and narrow bunk, my mind wanders to home and mother, and the recollections of the good things she has prepared for me in the past comes welling up before me, and drives away sleep. I feel famished, almost wolfish, I am so very hungry.

November 11th—I awoke early and ravenously hungry. Breakfast, after what seemed to me an endless delay, was brought to Major Hanvey and two or three others. None was brought to me, and I feel faint and sick from fasting. Dr. Knowles seemed to purposely avoid coming near me, but I called him, and asked that my meals be sent me as heretofore, declaring my inability to get down the precipitous steps. He replied that the exercise would do me good, and I must go down to my meals. I am sorry I made the request, as he has never been known to grant one. I missed my breakfast. It has been over twenty-four hours since I tasted food, and six or eight more must elapse before dinner hour. No wonder I became home-sick and desperately blue. How fully and painfully I realized that

"Homeless, near a thousand homes I stood,
And, near a thousand tables, pined and wanted food."

Impelled by my craving appetite, some time before the dinner hour, I adjusted the cloth swing around my neck and leg, took up my rude crutches, and began to hobble, as best I could, from my