My wife gave much assistance in my hospital duties,
often reaching and influencing those beyond me. I recall one poor
fellow who was actually six months in dying from a very painful
wound. Profanity appeared to be his vernacular, and in bitter
protest at his fate, he would curse nearly every one and
everything. Mrs. Roe's sympathy and attentions changed him very
much, and he would listen quietly as long as she would read to
him. Some of the hospital attendants, men and women, had good
voices, and we organized a choir. Every Sunday afternoon we went
from ward to ward singing familiar hymns. It was touching to see
rough fellows drawing their blankets over their heads to hide the
emotion caused by words and melodies associated, in many
instances, with home and mother.
Northern generosity, and, in the main, convalescent labor enabled
me to build a large commodious chapel and to make great
improvements in the hospital farm. The site of the hospital and
garden is now occupied by General Armstrong's Normal and
Agricultural Institute for Freedmen, and the chapel was occupied
as a place of worship until very recently.
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