prepared to meet, having shared the inexpressible hardships of the
Kentucky campaign, including destitution of suitable clothing. I take
pleasure in recording this noble act, because Lieutenant Chalaron was
from New Orleans (also my own beloved home). The impulse of
self-sacrifice, and of chivalrous devotion towards the helpless and
suffering, sprung from a heart pulsating with the knightly blood of
the Creole of Louisiana. Ah, that impetuous blood which stirred at the
first call to arms, which was poured out in continual libations to
Southern liberty, from the time it gushed from the breast of the first
martyr of the war (our Charlie Dreux), until almost in the "last
ditch," piled high with masses of Confederate dead, lay the gory body
of _Edgar Dreux_, the very topmost man, proving how invincible was the
courage that quailed not at the sight of that ghastly altar of
sacrifice!

The large brick court-house in the centre of the town of Ringgold was
especially devoted to my use. The court-room occupying the entire
upper floor was fitted up for fifty patients. This was facetiously
called "the nursery," and its occupants "Mrs. Beers's babies." In this
ward were placed, as far as its capacity permitted, patients who
needed to be visited very often, and for whose proper nourishment and
the prompt administration of medicine I was responsible. For instance,
if one of the fever-patients was taking veratrum, I must see it
dropped and given, and note the pulse. If one was just struggling
through dysentery, I must attend to his nourishment, and generally fed
him myself. Down-stairs was one large room, and three of good size,
but smaller. The large one was also a ward. My business-room opposite
was also the linen-room of the hospital. Shelves ran from floor to
ceiling, a counter in front of them. In one corner stood my desk, and
beside it a large country rocking-chair; in another a rough lounge for