Letter to General Lee goes this morning, probably. Another
wretched, painful, weary day. Mustard poultice on bowels this morn. Never
passed such a horrible night as last; awake all night, passing blood freely.
The doctor couldn't know anything about his business, and doesn't care. Keeps
giving me pills. Bought pint of brandy, $25; miserable stuff. Apple brandy,
tastes like burning-fluid.
SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William
Francis Bartlett, p. 123-4
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