The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-10-04
WITH OUR SOLDIERS

Haven Lady.
 The three tents which were erected at the hospital for the use of the sol diers have been taken down. Out of about one hundred and forty soldiers who were entered on the record books, only fifty-flve now remain. But some of these are very sick men still. It is with aching heart that one gazes upon their wan, thin, colorless faces and thinks, perforce, of how much suffering they must have borne to bring about that look.
 To see the convalescents in the yard or on the sunny piaazas, or writing let ters to the home folk Is a cheerier sight, even though the faces bending above the table are almost as white as the letter paper, and the hands that would write tremble so they can scarcely hold the pen. Those home-folk are very far away, some of them; by the waves of far Lake Michigan, on the rolling plains of Texas. under the dazzling, cloudless blue of the Colorado skies, LlSy walt anu WdlCll lOl ei lCLtSL II Diii the loved soldier boy, hoping against hope that each succeeding post Will bring some better news. Pretty girls with tear-wet eyes, like the cornfiower when the dew Is on it, gaze despairingly across the waving prairies or up to the glory of the towering western hills wrapped in their sunset robes of pearl and purple, emerald and royal, red and white they pray for the sight of dis tant horseman or foot-sore traveller the brother or lover who was last heard of in Santiago, and may be now, for aught they know, resting with tired face pressed to the earth in Cuban trench, or lying buried, with little of psalm or prayer, in the cool depths of the great ocean. Or, it may be moth- CT who gazes with that look that only a mother bereaved of her child son can wear, across the silent mountains to- wards the fair New England shore, where, as she has heard, her boy has escaped the call to "the front only 0 sink into the hands of a more fearsome foe than the Spanish-the dread ty- phoid.
 When will he write? Will he ever come back?" These are the questions they ask themselves these women from the shores of the Atlantic to the far Pacific coast, and with how much of pain and agony only a woman simi- larly placed could know. o, it has been well said that the tragedies of war are not all enacted on the field. At such times as these many a woman's heart breaks many a woman's home
 %e f111 thur " presidential prison that even our late enemy could contrive. Many an Amer ican woman, thinking of some loved one in the perils of war has faced more fearful dangers, though they be in fact but the creature of her imagination than that dear one himhelf shall ever face, however dread his lot. The bat tlefield is terrible, but there, at least, Is the inspiration of action, the fervor of life, and the hope or spur of death. To some woman, waiting in alternate fear and hope for some news from the front, even death itself would be preferable to the slow inquisition of suspense.
 So, recalling the women-folk at home, it is pleasant to see tour boys able to write letters once more. It is pleasanter still to see them convales- cing, many of them so steadily that a few weeks will fit them to leave camp and hospital to hasten back to the waiting arms of the women who look for them. And pleasantest of all it is to think of the reunions-the meetings of mothers and sons, of sweethearts and loving sisters and brothers, wives and husbands The coming home again! Pale and weak and worn to a shadow, as many of the brave boys are, there must be a certain sadness in these reunions but the joy is so great that it Eliminates even the shadows. How beautiful a thing is the home coming of the brave soldier! Only to those homes where The cometh not nor ever again may come, should our saddest sorrow and our deepest sym pathy go out
 In the hospital yard I talked with a brave man from Troop K, of the Sixth United States cavalry which went through the horrors and shared in the glories of the Santiago campaign. He was very pale yet, though convalescing hopefully. The tears which barely showed in his clear brown eyes as he referred briefly to his Wisconsin home were far from sign of unmanliness
 Landed in Cuba June 24; went through about what the rest of the men did at Santiago. We arrived at Montauk Point August IT. In common with others I took the typhoid and was ordered to New Haven, where l en- tered the hospital on August 2. For a week thereafter I knew nothing of what went on around me, no more than if I had been really dead. They say they gave me iced baths, but I don't recall it. The first I knew when I came to myself was that I was fero- ciously hungry. I had had nothing but hot milk and it was some time before l got anything else, too. o, that's the treatment; that's all. It's all right. But I never want to be so hungry again.
 Did he like the hospital, the treat ment, the care of the nurses?
 70, yes; that part of it's all right; the hospitals all right" he said. The thing that wasn't all right, it was plain to be seen, was to be so far away from home in that debilitated condition. The poor fellow was homesick. They say more of our soldiers have fallen victims to nortalgie (homesickness) than to the fever. And no wonderi This convalescent, like many another, evidently needed "cheering m" He