My wife joined me in Washington, and few days later accompanied me
to the scene of my new labors at Hampton Hospital, near Fortress
Monroe. There were not many patients at that time (March, 1864) in
the large barrack wards; but as soon as the Army of the Potomac
broke through the Wilderness and approached our vicinity,
transports in increasing numbers, laden with desperately wounded
men, came to our wharf. During the early summer the wooden
barracks were speedily filled, and many tent wards were added.
Duty became constant and severe, while the scenes witnessed were
often painful in the last degree. More truly than on the field,
the real horrors of war are learned from the long agonies in the
hospital. While in the cavalry service, I gained in vigor daily;
in two months of hospital work I lost thirty pounds. On one day I
buried as many as twenty-nine men. Every evening, till the duty
became like a nightmare, I followed the dead-cart, filled up with
coffins, once, twice, and often thrice, to the cemetery.
Eventually an associate chaplain was appointed, who relieved me of
this task.

Fortunately, my tastes led me to employ an antidote to my daily
work as useful to me as to the patients. Surrounding the hospital
was much waste land. This, with the approval of the surgeon in
charge, Dr. Ely McMillan, and the aid of the convalescents, I
transformed into a garden, and for two successive seasons sent to
the general kitchen fresh vegetables by the wagon-load. If reward
were needed, the wistful delight with which a patient from the
front would regard a raw onion was ample; while for me the care of
the homely, growing vegetables and fruit brought a diversion of
mind which made life more endurable.