The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1874-11-20
A Love Story Of tho War

Love Story OF tho War.
We were sitting in our room at the
Glades Hotel, in Oakland, Maryland,
one day with charming lady who had
dropped in on q visit. One of our
windows looked into that of another
room 30 placed by the position of the
main building that half Of it's interior
could be seen. We we're looking up
and admiring little chubby, blue
eyed two-year old, white as snow, who
was pulling a bouquet to pieces and
tossing out its fragments, or clipping
her hands with delight as train went
laundering by.
'"These rooms" said our visitor,
have some very tender associations
for me-"
"Why SOP" We asked.
"Well," she answered, "during the
war the greater part Of the hotel was
seized by the Government as a hospi-
tai, and VIC we're crowded into few
rooms. My sister and had this. In
that room where that little beauty is
Wer two Union officers, one sick of
the fever and another Of wound. 1t
was hard to tell whether they we're
slowly dying or slowly getting we'll. I
never saw such ghostly skeletons to be
alive. We were 'secesh,' and not mo-
dest about it, either; but still our
hearts ached for the poor young men,
80 i'll, perhaps dying, far from friends
and relatives"
"It bothers one to know how this
should be hospital" we said, sit is
so far removed from active opera
tions."
ut was thought" she answered,
"that the mountain air of the elades
would be more favorable to recovery
than elsewhere, 80 this was made o
hospital. One day one of these officers
dragged himself to the window and
under the impulse of the movement
my sister asked if we could do any
thing for them, and he answered, gasp
ing for breath, that little chicken or
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 through tile
day. to secure few chickens; 30 that
when the hospital nurse and physician
had an unlimited supply of luxuriess
in the way of wines, potted meats and
canned vegetation, they we're without
q
lew chickens were hid in cellar by IL
ne'ghbor. and we coaxed one out of
the owner, and after q deal of vexn-
sious trouble-for at every turn wo
we're met by IL fixed bayonet and m
insult-we got the soup rendy. aud as
the guard in the hall would Tot permit
us to approach our patients, my sister
attempted to hand the bowl to, the of.
hcer IN the window. Just as lie was
ieebly reaching for it and she stretch
ing nerself half out to give it to him,
harsh, ugly voice below cried alond,
Look ont there-poison! She nearly
dropped herself, soup and all. Draw
ing back she hesitatcd q second. and
then she took the spoon and beoon
eating the broth. oh, botherl' cried
the officer. Don't waste it that way:
I'm not afraid; and she gave him the
soup. 1t seemed to revive 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 stood at
the window talking and we sang to
them-sang My Maryland and all the
Southern songs we knew, until they
were we'll enough to leave the hospital
and return to duty. They both seemed
sorry to go, and forced on as o guam
tity OF hospital stores and some coffee,
which last we needed sadly. Then
one gave iing and the other brooch,
as tokens 0! !hei. kind feelings"
Sand did they never return?" wo
asked.
"One did not; for, poor fellow, he
was killed in the very next battle in
which he was engaged. His com.
panion wrote us about it, and the
writer insisted upon opening a CORES.
pondence with my sister; and soon his
@etters grew into lore letters, and after