to me like a dear young brother, devoted and
ever-thoughtful. The matron's room at the hospital was called very
often "Soldiers' Rest," and sometimes "The Promised Land," because
many soldiers came there every day, and those newly convalescent made
it a goal which they aspired to reach as soon as permitted.

This habit gave me an opportunity to use properly what might have been
sent in boxes which arrived frequently from different quarters, filled
with a variety of goodies, but in quantities entirely insufficient to
supply all the soldiers. A sangaree or any other delicacy, taken while
resting after a walk which taxed the weakened energies to the utmost,
or a meal served outside the fevered air of the wards, did more to
build up the strength than any amount of medicine could have done. As
there never was, by any chance, a supply of these things for one
thousand men (the usual number assigned to Buckner Hospital),
delicacies (already becoming scarce) were served only to the very sick
or to convalescents.

It was beautiful to see how young Percy delighted to assist in waiting
on these visitors to "The Soldiers' Rest,"--how his sprightliness
pleased and amused them. His own great embarrassment seemed to be that
he had lost all his clothes at the time he was wounded, so was
compelled to wear the unbleached shirts with blue cottonade collars
and cuffs, which were supplied to all patients, numbered to correspond
with the bunks. These he called State's prison uniform. One day,
however, Dr. Fenner from New Orleans, Louisiana, paid a visit to
Buckner Hospital (then located at Newnan, Georgia), leaving with me
two large boxes of clothing and stores for the Louisiana soldiers.
Percy assisted to unpack these boxes, soon finding himself amply
provided with underclothing and a nice jacket and pants of gray, also
a new blanket. He was pleased, but not yet quite satisfied, for the
jacket was simply gray. He wanted it trimmed with red.

It chanced that there was in one of the boxes a piece of red flannel.
With this I trimmed the suit under his careful supervision. I can
never forget how happy he was to get into this suit, or how he danced
around me, pretending to go through the artillery drill, and to load
and fire at imaginary Yankees.

Later, his cap was retrimmed, the letters and artillery badge
furbished up, and one beautiful day was made sad and gloomy to his
friends and myself by the departure of this brave, dear boy, to rejoi