Mrs. Elliott had a plantation called "The Hut," and while there she once had three American gentlemen as guests. These she was obliged to hurry into a closet one day, on the sudden approach of the enemy; and, opening a secret door, she showed them a narrow apartment back of the chimney, which she had contrived expressly for a hiding place. Two of the guests entered, and were saved, while the third, attempting to flee on horse-back, was overtaken and slain. After the British had thoroughly, though ineffectually, searched the house, and failed, by many threats, to persuade the mistress to disclose the hiding place of the others, they demanded her silver. Pointing to some mounds of earth near by, as they made the demand, they asked if the plate was not buried there.[58] She told them, in reply, that those mounds were the graves of British soldiers who had died under her roof. The officers did not believe her, and made two of the soldiers dig till they came to one of the coffins, which was opened and which verified her assertion. The enemy then departed, when the two guests came forth, filled with gratitude to their kind and ingenious hostess for the free use of this singular apartment. [58] The silver was buried in a trunk, and remained in a marshy bed till the close of the war. When disinterred, it had turned black. ANECDOTES OF ANNA ELLIOTT. "The spark of noble courage now awake, And strive your excellent self to excel." The wife of Charles Elliott, of Charleston, South Carolina, was one of those dames of Seventy-six who "appeared to concentrate every thought and every hour of existence to the interests of America." She cheered the prisoner, befriended the unjustly persecuted, comforted the sick, fed the hungry, and was humane alike to enemies and friends. Major Garden has paid her the following compliment: "I do not know an officer who did not owe to her some essential increase of comfort." A British officer, whose cruel and persecuting disposition was well known to Mrs. Elliott, was walking with her in a flower garden one day, when, pointing to the chamomile he asked, "What is this, madam?" She at once replied, "The rebel flower." "And why," asked he, "is it called the rebel flower?" "Because," answered she, "it always flourishes most when trampled upon." At another time, while an officer of the royal army was in her house at Charleston, a French officer, belonging to Pulaski's legion, passed; and pointing to him, he vociferated, "There, Mrs. Elliott, is one of your illustrious allies. What a pity the hero is minus his _sword_." The spirit of the woman was roused, and she replied, "Had two thousand such men been here to aid in the defence of our city, I should not at this moment, sir, have been subjected to the insolence of your observation."