On the day after our arrival at Yorktown, Kilpatrick gave me despatches for the authorities at Washington.  President Lincoln, learning that I had just returned from the raid, sent for me, and I had a memorable interview with him alone in his private room.  He expressed profound solicitude for Colonel Dahlgren and his party.  They had been detached from the main force, and I could give no information concerning them.  We eventually learned of the death of that heroic young officer, Colonel Dahlgren.  Although partially helpless from the loss of a leg, he led a daring expedition at the cost of his life.

I expressed regret to the President that the object of the raid had not been accomplished.  “Pick the flint, and try it again,” said Mr. Lincoln, heartily.  I went out from his presence awed by the courage and sublime simplicity of the man.  While he gave the impression that he was bearing the nation on his heart, one was made to feel that it was also large enough for sympathy with all striving with him in the humblest way.

My wife joined me in Washington, and few days later accompanied me to the scene of my new labors at Hampton Hospital, near Fortress Monroe.  There were not many patients at that time (March, 1864) in the large barrack wards; but as soon as the Army of the Potomac broke through the Wilderness and approached our vicinity, transports in increasing numbers, laden with desperately wounded men, came to our wharf.  During the early summer the wooden barracks were speedily filled, and many tent wards were added.  Duty became constant and severe, while the scenes witnessed were often painful in the last degree.  More truly than on the field, the real horrors of war are learned from the long agonies in the hospital.  While in the cavalry service, I gained in vigor daily; in two months of hospital work I lost thirty pounds.  On one day I buried as many as twenty-nine men.  Every evening, till the duty became like a nightmare, I followed the dead-cart, filled up with coffins, once, twice, and often thrice, to the cemetery.  Eventually an associate chaplain was appointed, who relieved me of this task.

Fortunately, my tastes led me to employ an antidote to my daily work as useful to me as to the patients.  Surrounding the hospital was much waste land.  This, with the approval of the surgeon in charge, Dr. Ely McMillan, and the aid of the convalescents, I transformed into a garden, and for two successive seasons sent to the general kitchen fresh vegetables by the wagon-load.  If reward were needed, the wistful delight with which a patient from the front would regard a raw onion was ample; while for me the care of the homely, growing vegetables and fruit brought a diversion of mind which made life more endurable.