HOSPITAL GANGRENE.
About nine o'clock I returned to the man I had come to help, and found
that he still slept. I hoped he might rouse and have some further
message for his wife, before death had finished his work, and so
remained with him, although I was much needed in the "very bad ward."
I had sat by him but a few moments when I noticed a green shade on his
face. It darkened, and his breathing grew labored--then ceased. I think
it was not more than twenty minutes from the time I observed the green
tinge until he was gone. I called the nurse, who brought the large man I
had seen at the door of the bad ward, and now I knew he was a surgeon,
knew also, by the sudden shadow on his face when he saw the corpse, that
he was alarmed; and when he had given minute directions for the removal
of the bed and its contents, the washing of the floor and sprinkling
with chloride of lime, I went close to his side, and said in a low
voice:
"Doctor, is not this hospital gangrene?"
He looked down at me, seemed to take my measure, and answered:
"I am very sorry to say, madam, that it is."
"Then you want lemons!"
"We would be glad to have them!" "Glad to have them?" I repeated, in
profound astonishment, "why, you _must_ have them!"
He seemed surprised at my earnestness, and set about explaining:
"We sent to the Sanitary Commission last week, and got half a box."
"Sanitary Commission, and half a box of lemons? How many wounded have
you?"
"Seven hundred and fifty."
"Seven hundred and fifty wounded men! Hospital gangrene, and half a box
of lemons!"
"Well, that was all we could get; Government provides none; but our
Chaplain is from Boston--his wife has written to friends there and
expects a box next week!"
"To Boston for a box of lemons!"
I went to the head nurse whom I had scolded in the morning, who now gave
me writing materials, and I wrote a short note to the _New York
Tribune_:
"Hospital gangrene has broken out in Washington, and we want lemons!
_lemons!_ LEMONS! ~LEMONS!~ No man or woman in health, has a right to a
glass of lemonade until these men have all they need; send us lemons!"
I signed my name and mailed it immediately, and it appeared next
morning. That day Schuyler Colfax sent a box to my lodgings, and five
dollars in a note, bidding me send to him if more were wanting; but that
day lemons began to pour into Washington, and soon, I think, into every
hospital in the land. Gov. Andrews sent two hundred boxes to the Surgeon
General. I received so many, that at one time there were twenty ladies,
several of them with ambulances, distributing those which came to my
address, and if there was any more hospital gangrene that season I
neither saw nor heard of it.
The officers in Campbell knew of the letter, and were glad of the
supplies it brought, but some time passed before they identified the
writer as the little sister in the bad ward, who had won the reputation
of being the "best wound-dresser in Washington."