Saturday, November 15th.
I think I grow no better rapidly. Fortunately on Wednesday night they succeeded in turning me over; for my poor elbows, having lost all their skin, were completely used up. Now, if I go slowly and carefully, I can turn myself at the cost of some little suffering....
Yesterday Colonel Steadman, of the First Alabama, called with his father. He sent me many messages of condolence, and the rather unpleasant advice to be cupped and scarified. His profession was that of a physician before he became colonel. His surgeon, whose name is Madding, told him he was satisfied that I was seriously injured, though I had not complained. The Colonel is the same who called when we were in Clinton. They readily accepted our invitation to dinner, and remained until late in the afternoon, when Captain Bradford came in. More messages of condolence and sympathy upstairs, which produced no visible effect on my spine, though very comforting to the spirit.
November 16th.
I was interrupted yesterday morning by Mrs. Badger, who wished to apply a few dry cups to my back, to which I quietly submitted, and was unable to move afterwards without pain, as a reward for my patience. But towards sunset came two dear letters that made me forget what I had suffered, one from George, and one from Jimmy, dated Bermudas. For the first time I know what my dear little brother suffered during those long months when we could not hear if he were dead or alive. He kept the secret until he no longer needed either friends or money; and now he tells it with a simplicity that made me cry fit to break my heart when I was left alone in the twilight with no one to see.... George comforts me with hopes of Peace, and a speedy return. If it could only be!...
This morning the boom of Yankee guns reached my ears; a sound I had hoped never to hear again. It is only those poor devils (I can afford to pity them in their fallen state) banging away at some treasonable sugar-houses that are disobedient enough to grind cane on the other side of the river. I hear that one is at Mrs. Cain's. The sound made my heart throb. What if the fight should come off before I can walk? It takes three people to raise me whenever it is necessary for me to move; I am worse than helpless.
Tuesday, November 18th.
A note just came from mother, telling me that the most awful Yankees were coming to burn Linwood and take Port Hudson, and so this evening I must walk down to the cars with a chair to rest in until they came, and must certainly be in Clinton to-night. Delightful arrangement! I wrote to ask if she knew that my legs were of no more service to me than to her? Dr. Dortch has again been murdering me ... says perhaps I can stand by Sunday. If the Yankees come before—
Friday night, November 21st.
Lying on my face, as it were, with my poor elbows for a support, I try to pass away these lonely hours. For with the exception of old Mrs. Carter, who is downstairs, and the General, who is elsewhere, Anna and I are the only white people on the place. The cause of this heartless desertion is a grand display of tableaux vivants at Jackson, for the benefit of the Soldiers' Hospital, and of course it would be sinful to stay away, particularly as Anna is a great deal better, and I need no care....