A War-Time Wooing, by Charles 
King 
 
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Title: A War-Time Wooing A Story 
Author: Charles King 
 
Release Date: October 6, 2007 [eBook #22906] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
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WAR-TIME WOOING*** 
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+--------------------------------------------------------+ | Transcriber's note: | 
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A WAR-TIME WOOING 
A Story 
by 
CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U. S. A. 
Illustrated 
 
New York Harper & Brothers, Franklin Square Copyright, 1888, by 
Harper & Brothers. All rights reserved. 
 
[Illustration: "Colonel Putnam raises to the light of the first lantern a 
hairy, bushy object."--[See p. 50.]] 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
"COLONEL PUTNAM RAISES TO THE LIGHT OF THE FIRST 
LANTERN A HAIRY, BUSHY OBJECT" Frontispiece 
"THE VIRGINIANS KNEW A BRAVE MAN WHEN THEY SAW 
ONE" Facing page 8 
"THE WHOLE TROOP IS HURRIEDLY SADDLING" " 70
"THEN BATHES, WITH COLOGNE, THE WHITE TEMPLES AND 
SOFT, RIPPLING, SUNNY HAIR" " 90 
"BACK COME THOSE DAREDEVILS OF STUART'S" " 110 
"A CAVALRY ORDERLY MAKES HIS APPEARANCE AT THE 
DOOR" " 136 
"THEN A YOUNG SOLDIER, IN HIS STAFF UNIFORM, TAKES 
THREE SPRINGING STEPS, AND IS AT HER SIDE" " 172 
"DRAWS FORTH HER PRECIOUS PICTURE AND LAYS IT AT A 
RIVAL'S FEET" " 194 
 
A WAR-TIME WOOING. 
 
I. 
After months of disaster there had come authentic news of victory. All 
Union-loving men drew a long breath of relief when it was certain that 
Lee had given up the field and fallen back across the Potomac. The 
newsboys, yelling through the crowded streets in town, and the evening 
trains arriving from the neighboring city were besieged by eager buyers 
of the "extras," giving lists of the killed and wounded. Just at sunset of 
this late September day a tall young girl, in deep mourning, stood at a 
suburban station clinging to the arm of a sad, stern-featured old man. 
People eyed them with respect and sympathy, not unmixed with rural 
curiosity, for Doctor Warren was known and honored by one and all. A 
few months agone his only son had been brought home, shot to death at 
the head of his regiment, and was laid in his soldier grave in their 
shaded churchyard. It was a bitter trial, but the old man bore up sturdily. 
He was an eager patriot; he had no other son to send to the front and 
was himself too old to serve; it had pleased God to demand his 
first-born in sacrifice upon his country's altar, and though it crushed his 
heart it could not kill his loyalty and devotion. His whole soul seemed
with the army in Virginia; he had nothing but scorn for those who 
lagged at home, nothing but enthusiastic faith in every man who sought 
the battle-front, and so it happened that he almost welcomed the 
indications that told him his daughter's heart was going fast--given in 
return for that of a soldier lover. 
For a moment it had dazed him. She was still so young--so much a 
child in his fond eyes--still his sweet-faced, sunny-haired baby Bess. 
He could hardly realize she was eighteen even when with blushing 
cheeks she came to show him the photograph of a manly, 
gallant-looking young soldier in the uniform of a lieutenant of infantry. 
Strange as the story may seem to-day, there was at the time nothing 
very surprising about its most salient feature--she and her hero had 
never met. 
With other girls she had joined a "Soldiers' Aid Society;" had wrought 
with devoted though misguided diligence in the manufacture of 
"Havelocks" that were bearers of much sentiment but no especial 
benefit to the recipients at the front; and like many of her companions 
she had slipped her name and address into one of these soon-discarded 
cap covers. As luck would have it, their package of "Havelocks," 
"housewives," needle-cases, mittens (with trigger finger duly provided 
for), ear-muffs, wristlets, knitted socks, and such things, worn by the 
"boys" their first winter in Virginia, but discarded for the regulation 
outfit thereafter, fell to the lot of the--th Massachusetts Infantry, and a 
courteous letter from the adjutant told of its distribution. Bessie Warren 
was secretary of the society, and the secretary was    
    
		
	
	
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