I went to Alexandria this morning to learn whether the reports concerning the treatment of some of our boys in a certain hospital in that city were true. Arriving at the hospital, I asked for a list of the Michigan men who were there, obtaining which, I started to go through the wards, when an orderly came running after me, saying: “The doctor says you can’t go through the hospital.” This was something new, and I began to think there was some truth in the reports. I went directly to the doctor’s office and inquired what all this meant. He replied, “You must have a written permit from Dr. Bently, who is surgeon-in-charge of this division, before you can go through my hospital.” I still insisted on going through, without waiting to see Dr. B., whose office was nearly a mile from there. “Well, then,” he said, “I will go and see him myself, and you can wait until I return.” “But I can’t wait, doctor; I shall go through the wards while you are gone,” was my reply. He hesitated a moment, and then said: “Well, you may go through them this time. I guess it will be all right.” “I know it will be all right, doctor,” I answered. He left the hospital, while I made a tour of inspection through it, and, before leaving, I was convinced that the reports in circulation were not wholly without foundation.... Not long after this, I called to see Dr. Bently and inquired if it were necessary for me to have a pass from him, in order to be admitted to the hospitals in his division, and then related the unpleasant interview with one of his surgeons. “By no means,” he said. “And you tell the doctor for me, that you have the privilege of visiting my hospitals as often as you wish, and at such times as best suit your convenience. If you have any more trouble, let me know.” But I managed to fight my own battles thereafter, without calling upon him again, and at length gained the victory, as will be seen a few pages hence.