Did not write yesterday. Jumping right along toward health if not
wealth. discarded crutches and have now two canes. Get around considerable, a
little at a time. It is said that they want Yankee printers who are prisoners
of war to go and work in the printing offices in the city on parole of
honor(?). Will not do it. Am all right where I am for a month yet, and by that
time expect to go to our lines. Hub Dakin in hospital now. Priests still come
and go. Convalescent shot and wounded by the guards, the first I have heard of
being hurt since I came to this place. A small-pox case discovered in hospital
and created great excitement. Was removed. Was loitering near the gate, when an
Irish woman came through it with her arms full of wheat bread. All those able
to rushed up to get some of it and forty hands were pleading for her favors;
After picking her men and giving away half a dozen loaves her eyes lighted on
me and I secured a large loaf. She was a jolly, good natured woman, and it is
said that she keeps a bake shop My bad looks stood me in well this time. As
beautiful bread as I ever saw.
SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 105-6
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