The Sun.
London, England, 1869-05-10 00:00:00

THE HOSPITAL FOR INCURABLES.

A writer in the Daily News gives a description of a visit
made by him to the Hospital for Incurables. This insti-
tution is another of those which owe their origin to the
noble benevolence of the late Bev. Dr. Andrew Reed.
Towards the close of his life, it occurred to Dr. Reed that
out of the innumerable medical charities with which Eng.
land abounds, there was none for the reception of patients
who were dismissed from the hospitals as past cure. His
efforts to supply the deficiency met with success, and in
1854 the present institution started into life. It stands
in a garden many acres in extent, commanding a
view which has the mansions and plantations of
Wimbledon Park as a foreground, and is flanked by a
wide range of distant Surrey hills. At the time of our
visit, there are many invalid chairs in the garden.
Basking in the sun by the side of the house are some
paralytics, one of whom is smoking, while those around
him talk and chat and twist themselves laboriously into
easier attitudes in their chairs. A word of introduction to
the matron, and we are courteously conducted over the
1 home. The entrance hall is a portion of an old family
1 mansion which the parents of the present Duke of Suther-
land occupied for many years, and in the morning room
beyond Sir Walter Scott, Lockhart, and Sir Humphrey
, Davy have often met. It has been converted into a day
room for the female patients, and is tolerably full. In
easy chairs, on couches, engaged on fancy work, or gazing
listlessly up at the ceiling or out of window, are afflicted
women of all ages and of various degrees and kinds of
suffering. The one thing they have in common is the
impossibility,
es far as man can see, of ever being restored
to health. Here, was a young woman with a bright eager
Ismile and gentle expression, who was helplessly paralysed;
there, an old lady who had lost the use of her limbs, but
who was employing the only two fingers she bad available
on Berlin wool. There is no uniform d
dress, save
that worn by the attendants, and nothing in the
room or its furniture to mark it as part of a charitable
institution. A spacious sitting-room, into which the
morning callers of a month or so have been all
aggregated, is the first impression it gives ; for the
moulding and medallions on the walls, the pictures and
Looks, and the organ given by the treasurer, Mr. Huth,
all combine to give the place a cheerful, habitable look.
Many of the patients betray no sign of the infirmities
under which they labour; the sufferings of many others
are only discovered when personal investigation succeeds
the first glance round. The greatest marvel is the benign
cheerfulness on nearly every face. There are no sick-room
moanings, no sick-room expressions anywhere. The
matron herself has one of those contagiously-
beaming countenances which are a blessing to their
possessors, and her tone and manner are advisedly of the
briskest. To avoid shewing the afflicted that you think
them in pitiable case, and seem to accept chronic pain
and permanent helplessness as common conditions of life,
are the points to aim at when visiting and conversing here ;
and it was positively startling to see how thoroughly
those addressed caught this spirit in their replies. The
great room is very quiet. The occupants of the sofas and
reclining chairs are in acute pain, or are permanently
crippled, or are dulled by repeated fits, and are all without
hope of ever discharging the duties or enjoying the
blessings of life. To be carried down from the floor on
which their sleeping chamber is, to hobble painfully, or be
wheeled to its lift ; to take up one position in the sitting-
room, and to keep it all day ; to know that to morrow
will bring no change, unless it be in increase of pain,
and to look to the end of life as the only solace ; this is to
be smitten deeply with incurable disease. There is a
wistful look on some of the faces turned wearily to the
windows, as if the buds and tender leaves of spring sent
thoughts wandering ; and a general air of patient waiting
over all. You do not master this at first. The cheerful-
ness with which your inquiries are met, and the bright
interest which lights up each countenance directly its
owner is addressed, throws the visitor off his guard. Perhaps
expecting something repulsive, the mere every-day snug-
ness of the sitting-room, with its sheltered nooks and cosy
coteries of neatly-attired gentlewomen, leads observation
astray. But behind all their genial cheerfulness and
patient gratitude these poor people know emphatically
that they are waiting for the end, and it seems as if
each one were sitting there for the express purpose of
receiving her summons of release.
We pass up stairs, and through neat, light, and pleasant
chambers in which the bedridden are living. "It's a most
beautiful view from this window," said one lady, who
gracefully did the honours of her room ; " and when it 's
a little clearer, the Crystal Palace is easily seen, so that
when I'm tired of my lace-work, I just lean back on my
pillow, and draw this curtain on one side, and look at
it." Again, all was so cheerful—so chirpy, if we may
use the word—that the matron's remark, " one of our
greatest sufferers has intense and almost constant
pain," came with an actual sense of surprise. One hand-
some young woman, who looks the picture of happiness,
and who assures us she "has very good health;" is literally
dead from the chin downwards. Her winsome face, intel-
ligent eyes, and thick brown curls come before us
as we write, for it was difficult to believe that they
belonged to a paralytic. This inmate has taught herself
to write with her teeth, on a rest which the nurse arranges
for her on her bed, and she shewed some of her writings
with an innocent pride it was very agreeable to see.

Mr. James Monteith, of Duke-street, St. James's,
London, has invested with the Senate of Glasgow Univer-
sity the sum of £l,OOO as a Bursary Fund, with the view
of encouraging the study of modern languages. The bur-
saries are to be three in number, each of the annual value
of about £lO, and tenable for three years.
THE BATH AND WEST OF ENGLAND AGRICUL-
TURAL SHOW.—Her Majesty, through Sir Thomas Bid-
dulph, has subscribed £.':o towards the expenses incurred
by the local committee at Southampton in connection with
this show. The exhibition itself will open the last day in
the present month, and Mr. Goodwin, the secretary, states
that it will be in all probability the largest the society has
ever yet held.

MONUMENT OF THE LATE MR. It. OASTLER.—A
monument of the late Mr. R. Oastler, the successful advo-
cate of the " Ten Hours Bill," and known in Yorkshire
and Lancashire as the " Factory King," is being at pre-
sent raised at Bradford, prior to its being formally
unveiled by the Earl of Shaftsbury, on Saturday next,
after the marshalling and marching of a great procession
of friendly societies, trades, and factory operatives. The
monument consists of a colossal figure of Mr. Oastler in
bronze, standing in a familiar attitude, with two factory
children, whose cause he is earnestly pleading, before him.
RARE AUTOGRAPHS. —Some letters of a highly
interesting character have been nce.:tly sold at high
prices by Messrs. Sotheby, Wilkinson, and Hodge, at their
house in Wellington-street. The following are from
among the more important examples : Letter of Charles I.
to Lord Ormond, written when the King was in great dis-
tress, owing to the rel)ellion in Ireland, £BO. Oliver
Cromwell to his son, being a highly characteristic letter of
this extraordinary man, f 2.-10. Letter of Dryden to Sir
Robert Long respecting his annuity, £26. Letter
of Elizabeth to King Henry IV., written in French, £65.
Sir Isaac Newton to Lord Townshend, £22. John Pym
to General Waller, £3O. Rabelais to Budeus, in Latin
and Greek, .£5O. Dean Swift to Ambrose Phillips,
relating in a great measure to Addison, £3l. Sir Walter
Raleigh to Sir Walter Cope, entreating him, in the most
touching manner, to gain permission that "my wyfe
might agayne be made a prisoner with me (in the Tower)
as 44e bath bine 91c six YON last nut." £9O.