The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-08-29

few comforts to needier men, brave and accomplishing to the last. As the Uni ted States is now so largely un-Amerl- can, her army was recruited from all the nations of the earth. Hence the the hospital we see the unmistakable Irish lip and eyes of Irish blue, beside the German physique on the next pill low, and the blonde Saxon in contrast to the sWarthy Latin. Some are gray haired middle-aged men, others boys in their teens, and all are so bronzed by exposure and unkempt as to hair and beard that doubt if their own mothers would know them. Every case is sad enough, Heaven knows-of strong men brought to the gates of death, not on the field of battle, but by unnecessary exposure afterwards and the criminal | carelessness of their superiors, and some are positively heart-rending.
 For example: A young Hercules, whose name nobody knows, rayed five days and nights in the delrium of ty- phoid, until death ended his sufferings, He lies in an unmarked grave, his iden- tity not yet discovered. Another moth er's boy, a sweet-faced, gentle fellow, under twenty, died of lung fever. from
 
 soaked clothes. Most of the men have the local calenture-a swift, sharp fever | which runs it's course in a week or two, induced from lying in the trenches, with insufficient food, during that dreadful | first week in July.
 The most peculiar case that has come under my observation is that-of a tall, bronzed cavalryman, who for six days and nights has lain most of the time in an unconscious state. Nobody knows who he is. He came rushing into the hospital one hot midday, a week ago, delirius with fever, having walked from some distant camp in the broiling sun, He spoke of himself as Guy and is | now known by that name, though | whether it really belongs to him, as | family or given" name none can say. He spent the first night alternately stalking up and down the hospital, im- agining that he was commanding reg iment, and struggling with the attend ants in efforts to leap over the veranda rail into the bay. Toward morning he lapsed into inconsistencies, and lay | for three days like one dead-jaw | dropped, eyes rolled far back into his | head, the only sign of life faint fiut- | tering of the pulse. Though death was | momentarily expected, the faithful | steward injected medicine into his arm l at regular intervals and poured few | drops of nourishment down his throat; and still he fingered hour by hour-no fever now, no weakening of the pulse, no change in the rolled-up eyes and | fixed expression. It seemed such pity "a strong-looking man to die and give no sign. On the fourth day sat beside | him, holding his two warm, limp hands between both my own, praying within myself that Heaven would send the poor soul back from the border-land of l shadows, if only long enough to send some message to the waiting wife or mother, when suddenly a change | flashed over the countenance; first an expression of agony, quickly followed by a smile, and then the eyes unclosed and looked with full intelligence into
 mine. Holding fast the hands, as If by | that means to stay the fiuttering soul
 I bent over him and said, Guy Tell
 me where you lived. I will write to your people," He understood and made | desperate effort to speak. The lips moved, but no words came; then the | eyes turned upward again till nothing | but the whites were visible, and the strange, half-unconscious, state re- turned. But he was not altogether in- sensible. He moved himself to the edge of the cot, as close to me as possible, and as long as I held his hands, re- mained quiet, but the instant I laid his hands upon his breast and tried to l move away, his arms beat the air like windmills and a fearful expression came to his face. So there I sat till dark and still he made no sign. Then l it was impossible to stay longer, be-
 cause imperative duties awaited me
 elsewhere. I went reluctantly, and all
 night long was worried by the fear that
 he might revive for the last time when
 nobody was at hand to learn his name,
 and that some poor woman waiting at home would never know what became
 of her loved one.
 Next morning they told me that to-
 ward midnight he opened his eyes and
 almost shouted, Where is she? Where | is she? Tell her to write to my fath- er," And then the poor soul was off
 again, into the shadowy land. It is needless to say that since then I have
 spent a good deal of time by the tall
 cavalryman's cot. And yet we have
 learned nothing. A dozen times he has | looked at me with full intelligence in
 his eyes and several times has called
 me "Rosa"-doubtless the name of
 some body he loves He knows when I
 am with him, takes his beef tea or
 spoonful of brandy obediently, snuggles
 up as closely as possibly and goes con-
 tentedly to sleep. But all efforts to get
 his home address have so far failed. He only smiles happily and says, "Yes, Rosa; write; please write" It is barely
 possible that some one who reads this
 may have an idea who he is. I judge that he Is not city-bred man, but from
 the rural districts of the middle west
 He is apparently about forty years
 old: eyes pale blue, black hair slightly
 sprinkled with gray, heavy beard and
 tawny moustache. This is his sixth
 day of semi and there is
 no change except that his body is grow 1 ing weaker and his lucid intervals
 more frequent. The doctor says there is some hope of his life, and that if he
 does recover it is miracle wrought by 1 woman's care. Pardon this too-long l story of an individual case. I give it to
 you as an example of hospital experi- | ence.
 To-day I talked with a yellow-fever
 convalescent, fresh from Siboney. He l cojd that of the seven hllndrad Da