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A Love Story Of War Times

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We were aitting in our roorn at the Glades Hotel, ia üakland, Md., one day with u charming lady who had dropped in on a viait. One ot' our windows looked into that of another room so placed by the projection of the main building that half of its interior could be seen. We were looking at and admiring a little chubby, blue eyed two year old, white as snow, who was puiling a bouquet to pieces and tossing out the fragmenta, or clapping her little hands with dehght as train went thundering by. " These rooms," said our fair visitor, " have Borne very tender associations for me." " Why so ?" we asked. " Well," she answered, " during the war the greater part of the hotel was seized by the Government as a hospital, and we were crowded into a few rooms. My sister and I had this. In that room where that little beauty is were two Union officers, one siok of the fever and the other of a wound. It was hard to teil whethor they were slowly dying or slowly getting well. I never saw such ghastly skeletons to be alive. We were ' secesh,' and tiot modest about it either, but still our hearts ached for the poor young men, so ill, perhaps dying, far trom friends and relatives." " It bothers one to know how this should be a hospital," we said, " it is so far removed from active operations." " It was thought," she answered, " that the mountain air of the glades would be more favorable to recovery than elsewhere, so this was made a hospital. One day one of these officers dragged himself to the window, and under the impulse of the moment my sister asked if we could do anything for them, and he answered, grasping for breath, that a little chicken soup would save their lives. Chickens were rare in those days - an army is hard on poultry. The men will work all night, after marching all nay, to secure a few chickens ; so that while the hospital nurses and physicians had an unlimited supply of actual luxuries in the way of wines, potted moats, and canned vegetables, they were without anything fresh. We knew where a few chickens were hid in a cellar, by a neighbor, and we coaxed one out of the owner, and after a deal of vexatious trouble - for at every turn we were met by a fixed bayonet and an insult - we got the soup ready, and as the guard in the hall would not permit us to approaoh our patients, my sister attempted to hand the bowl to the officer in the window. Just as he was feebly reaching for it, and she stretching herself half out to give it to hini, a harsh, ugly voice below cried aloud, ' Look out there - poison.' She nearly dropped herself, soup and all. Drawing back, she hesitated a second, and then she took the spoon and began eating the broth. ' Oh ! brotlier,' cried the officer, ' don't waste it that way - I'm not afraid ;' and so she gave him the soup. It seemed to xevive them, and they continued steadily to improve as day after day we supplied them with chicken broth until the cellar was empty. During this time we sat at the windows talking, and we sang to them - sang ' My Maryland' and all the Southern songs we knew, until they were well enough to leave the hospital and return to duty. They both seemed sorry to go, and forced on us a quantity of hospital stores and soine coffee, which last we needed sadly. Then one gave a ring and the other a brooch as a token of their kind feelings." " And did they never return 't" we asked. " One did not, for, poor fellow, he was killed in the next battle in which he was engaged. His companion wrote us about it, and the writer insisted upon opening a correspondenoe with my sister ; and soon his letters grew into love letters, and after a time they were engaged. Nearly a year subsequent to this our patiënt got leave of absence, and carne on to b married. He put up at a hotel and will ' you believe it, our own brother, who was in the Confedérate service and knew nothing of my sister's affair, captured his intended brother-in-law froni his bed. ' This not only deferred the marriage, but deprived the young West Pointer of his promotion, that had been promised for jallant service in the field. It was really aggravating, for exchiüiges had alrnost ceasud, and it looked as if the lovers would have to wait until ' this crüel war was over' beforo they could bo united." " You should have appealed to Abraiam Lincoln to give a inarried brigadier tbr an uninarried lieutenant." " We did better. Procuring passes, we went through the lines and appealed to Jeff. Davis. Jeff. said he would put my brother's prisoner in his sister's keeping. They have been liappily married these many yetirs. He is a brevet brigadiergenoral now, and it all carne of our nursing the enemy in that room." Hero is the foundation of a drama superior to that given by Boucicault in " Belle Lamar."


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