"The day before yesterday another and myself obtained permission to visit Point Isabel. We accordingly set out early in the morning. After crossing the Brazos in a sail-boat, we first visited the hospital containing the sick and wounded of the 8th and 9th. The rooms were large and airy, and everything characterized by cleanliness and order. It is an affecting sight for an American to behold his countrymen wounded in carrying out the demands of his government, to see them with their legs and arms blown off, rendering them ever afterwards incapable of enjoying active life. I was surprised and delighted with the patience and good humor they exhibited, and with what good feeling the infantry and dragoons joked and rallied each other. The first instance was brought about by my addressing one of them with, 'My friend you do not look much like a wounded man.' Said he, 'I wasn't much hurt, but that man sitting on my right, belongs to May's dragoons, who have so immortalized themselves. He was shot all over with six pounders.' The one pointed out pleasantly rejoined. 'You are jealous because we fought harder than you did.' Then turning to us he continued: 'Yes, the infantry got into a difficulty and cried, "come and help us;" that was enough, so we rode up and saved them; now they envy us our distinction.' 'No we don't,' replied the other, 'no we don't. We know you did all the fighting. Uncle Sam could not get along without you.' 'Do you see,' said the dragoon, still addressing us, 'how they try to take away our laurels? I will not talk with my inferiors. You know our privates rank with their orderly sergeants." We then passed on to others, who freely answered all our questions. They are all convalescent with the exception of one prisoner, who was shot in both legs. One leg has been amputated, and it is supposed the other will have to be, and that he will not be able to survive the operation. From here we proceeded to the armory, and were shown some copper balls taken in the late battles. We then visited Major Ringgold's grave. It is enclosed with a wooden fence, the rails of which are filled with holes, so as to admit musket barrels. These form the palings, the bayonets serving as pickets. Two boards painted black serve for tombstones. The newly made graves of volunteers were scattered around, with no names to distinguish them. Thus we realize all their day-dreams of an unfading name. We then retraced our steps towards the quartermaster's depot, stopping at
