can remember now, is a dim recollection of a nasty, greasy, burning something going down my throat and chest, and smelling, as I remember at this day, like a decoction of red-pepper tea, flavored with coal oil, turpentine, and tobacco juice.
THE HOSPITAL.
I went to the hospital that evening, saw it, and was satisfied with hospital life. I did not wish to be called a hospital rat. I had no idea of taking stock and making my headquarters at this place. Everything seemed clean and nice enough, but the smell! Ye gods! I stayed there for supper. The bill of fare was a thin slice of light bread and a plate of soup, already dished out and placed at every plate. I ate it, but it only made me hungry. At 9 o'clock I had to go to bed, and all the lights were put out. Every man had a little bunk to himself. I do not know whether I slept or not, but I have a dim recollection of "sawing gourds," and jumping up several times to keep some poor wretch from strangling. He was only snoring, I heard the rats filing away all night, and thought that burglars were trying to get in; my dreams were not pleasant, if I went to sleep at all. I had not slept off of the ground or in a house in three years. It was something new to me, and I could not sleep, for the room was so dark that had I got up I could not have found my way out. I laid there, I do not know how long, but I heard a rooster crow, and a dim twilight begin to glimmer in the room, and even footsteps were audible in the rooms below. I got sleepy then, and went off in a doze. I had a beautiful dream—I dreamed that I was in heaven, or rather, that a pair of stairs with richly carved balusters and wings, and golden steps overlaid with silk and golden-colored carpeting came down from heaven to my room; and two beautiful damsels kept peeping, and laughing, and making faces at me from the first platform of these steps; and every now and then they would bring out their golden harps, and sing me a sweet and happy song. Others were constantly passing, but always
