I had had some experience with Kentucky "apple-jack," which, it was popularly believed among the boys, would dissolve a piece of the fattest pork thrown into it, but that seemed balmy and oily alongside of this.

After tasting some, I ceased to wonder at the atrocities of Wirz and his associates.

Nothing would seem too bad to a man who made that his habitual tipple.
[For a more particular description of the Hospital I must refer my reader to the testimony of Professor Jones, in a previous chapter.] Certainly this continent has never seen--and I fervently trust it will never again see--such a gigantic concentration of misery as that Hospital displayed daily.

The official statistics tell the story of this with terrible brevity: There were three thousand seven hundred and nine in the Hospital in August; one thousand four hundred and eighty-nine--nearly every other man died.

The rate afterwards became much higher than this.
The most conspicuous suffering was in the gangrene wards.