Often have I seen him out on the hillside with his men, quietly sharing in all their hardships and privations.

I don't know why the incident of his wife's passage through the enemy's lines should make his death seem sadder.

But it does.

On Saturday night I drove away from the hospital in my cart, though still in great pain and hardly able to stand.

I was unable to endure the depression of all the hospital sights and sounds and smells any longer.