November 24th, 1864.—Three times a week Mother fixes up a basket to send in to the Tallahassee hospital, fresh butter and butter milk; fresh vegetables from the garden; any kind of fruit we happen to have and always two large loaves of delicious home-made bread. This last is a luxury as flour is hard to get. Father raises wheat and he has put in bolting cloths in his grist mill, so the wheat can be prepared for use. This morning Sister Mart and I carried the basket and I was so sorry for a patient, whom I had not heard of until today. It seems he was shot through the lungs, at the battle of Olustee, and has been here in the hospital ever since. Some of the people here, becoming interested in him, have tried to get him exchanged but have met with no success. He is slowly dying of consumption and he wants to go home. His family live up North, somewhere and Mr. Craig, who goes often to see him, says they are frantic to get him exchanged but they can do no more than the few who are trying in Tallahassee can do. Mr. Craig writes his letters home for him since he has grown so weak; he still cherishes the hope of going home but they say he would not be able to go now, even if the exchange could be made. It is pitiful! Sick in a strange land and for so long.
Susan Bradford is 18 years old when this entry was made.