I was told by a chaplain at the time that there were so many of our men dying that the firing of salutes over their graves was ordered discontinued. The constant noise of funerals was demoralizing. During the afternoon the boat was loaded up with the worst patients on the several boats. They were placed in the berths, and under the berths, and on the floor, and out upon the guards. Wherever there was a place where a fever-stricken, or a torn and broken body could be laid, it was occupied. About seven hundred and fifty were put on board. The sun was sinking;-behind the long, low line of cypress trees, festooned with their trailing mosses, when our boat turned her prow up the Mississippi River. Long rows of men lay on the floor with their knapsacks for their pillows. Among them was a Missouri soldier, severely wounded and delirious, who all the night long called piteously for his sister. His cry, “O sister!” was so plaintive and pathetic that I would go to him every little while and ask, “What do you want?” “I am glad you have come--I want a drink of water.” When the water was given he would remain quiet for a little time. The next morning, as soon as it was light, he was taken to the amputating-table, and one of his limbs sawed off above the knee. He sank very low under the operation--so low that no attempt was made to remove him from the table. The surgeon in charge said to me, “Get him to take some food or drink if you can; he is sinking very fast.” I offered him every delicacy in my possession, but he turned away in disgust. There had been some of my supplies transferred to this boat. While working with the men on the lower deck, and helping dress their wounds, I found a barrel of sauer-kraut. I allowed the attendants to open it; but afterwards, as I came up to the upper cabin, I called the surgeon’s attention to it, so as not to be blamed in the matter if the results were bad. It happened that I met him near the amputating-table. As I passed the patient I turned to give him a sympathetic look. He beckoned to me, and I hastened to him. “I want some kraut,” he said. I stepped over to where the surgeon was ministering to a man, and questioned as to whether it was best to grant his request. “Give him anything he wants--he can’t live anyway,” was his answer. I sent an attendant down to get the kraut; and he brought up a big tin cup full, and placed it on his breast and went his way. Shortly afterwards, passing that way, I noticed him, feebly, ravenously trailing the kraut to his mouth; and I never saw any one eat as much kraut as he did in my life. He never stopped till he emptied the cup. No one attempted to hinder him, as it was expected he would die soon. From that hour he began to mend, and by the time we reached St. Louis his case was considered hopeful.