"Not at all--not by any means, for I had two sons under him six weeks,
and they both declared they would rather die in the open field than be
under the care of that drunken tyrant again."

"Why do you permit such a surgeon to have the care of the sick,
wounded, and dying soldiers?"

"Well, it is difficult for us to do much with each other, but there is
the medical director just ahead of us; you ought to see him; I'll
introduce you. He is very much of a gentleman."

The first query of the medical director, after reading my papers, was
"Have you visited the Jackson Hospital? And did you see Surgeon
Powers?"

"I undertook to visit it yesterday," I said, "but was hurried through
in such haste, by Surgeon Powers, that I could not speak to any of the
soldiers, or stop to write for them to their home friends, if they
desired."

"What do you think of Surgeon Powers?"

"I think he is an unfeeling tyrant. The white of his eyes had the
color of red flannel, and the unmistakable brandy breath made
standing near him very unpleasant. Besides, his ungentlemanly, morose
treatment of helpless soldiers indicates his entire unfitness for the
position he occupies. If the milk of human kindness is more loudly
called for in one position than another, it is in the surgeon in
charge of sick, wounded, and dying soldiers."