Still in Richmond, nursing B. He was wounded this day two
months ago; but such fluctuations I have never witnessed in any case. We have
more hope now, because his appetite has returned. I sent over to market this
morning for partridges and eggs for him, and gave 75 cents apiece for the one,
and $1.50 per dozen for the other. I am afraid that our currency is rapidly
depreciating, and the time is approaching when, as in the old Revolution, a man
had to give $300 for a breakfast. Mrs. P. came in to scold me for my breach of
good manners in buying any thing in her house. I confessed myself
ashamed of it, but that I would be more ashamed to disturb her whenever B's
capricious appetite required indulgence. I have never seen more overflowing
hospitality than that of this household. Many sick men are constantly refreshed
from the bounties of the table; and supplies from the larder seem to be at the
command of every soldier. One of the elegant parlours is still in the occupancy
of the wounded soldier brought here with B.; his wound was considered slight,
but he suffers excessively from nervous debility, and is still unfit for
service. I did feel uncomfortable that we should give Mrs. P. so much trouble,
until she told me that, having no sons old enough for service, and her husband
being unable to serve the country personally, except as a member of the “Ambulance
Committee,” they had determined that their house should be at the service of
the soldiers. Last summer, during the campaigns around Richmond, they took in
seven wounded men, some of whom had to be nursed for months.
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 191
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