Notes of hospital life from November, 1861, to August, 1863Anonymous
History
Notes of hospital life from November, 1861, to August, 1863
Anonymous
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Hospitals
My pale, attenuated boy, too, was changed into the round, ruddy young
soldier, looking particularly well in his uniform. As is so frequently
the case in typhoid fevers, he had gained flesh rapidly, as he recovered,
and felt all the buoyancy and brightness of a thorough convalescence. I
could not avoid comparing and contrasting the two cases. Both brought in
with the same disease; in the same apparently hopeless state; the same
surprise excited by the recovery of each; but here the parallel ceased.
The one, scarcely more than a child,--a beardless boy, with smooth,
polished brow, rising with all the vigor of youth from this terrible
illness, and throwing off the disease as completely as though it had
never touched him. The other, worn and scarred by life’s conflicts more
than by time; his brow deeply furrowed more by excess than years; his
hair prematurely whitened, rising, it is true, from the disease, but
how?--without spirit, energy, or any sort of spring; wearily dragging
one foot after the other; listlessly and languidly sitting hour after
hour upon his bed, scarcely noticing or speaking to any one. His time
of life would of necessity give a slower convalescence, but there was
far more against him than this: a constitution broken and ruined, as we
soon found, by bad habits, which he renewed as soon as permitted to go
out, producing, of course, a relapse. Long before I knew this, I was
conscious that I could never overcome my repugnance to the man; at first
I attributed the feeling to the extreme dread of him I had felt at our
first meeting, and which I could not forget; but I soon became convinced
that there was a stronger reason. If inward purity writes itself upon
the outward form, (and who can question that it does?) the converse is
equally true. There is a sort of instinct, or rather--for that is too
low a term--a sort of spiritual consciousness, which warns us when evil
is near; that part of our being puts forth feelers, as it were, moral
antennæ, which extend themselves in congenial soil, but recoil at the
touch of corruption of any sort.
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