The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1879-11-25

their pies and wines. Poor Mr.. Newbold,
he was among these hopeless cases. But
no friend brought gifts to lay beside his
bed. He had thanked me, however, for a
handful of mistletoe and holly which
hung up in his ward with my own hands,
wishing at the same time all the best
wishes of the season.
81 don't make complaint, my dear
FRIEND" he said; ''but / have small re-
quest to prefer. am very troublesome
| am very sure, very; and it is hard TO,
my nurse not TO have change to some
other ward. viii you find me another
nurse-a wcman with a softer voice
dear friend-a soft,r voice?"
He was very ill; he had grown weaker
and weaker; his end was drawing near
She WAS queru!ous, but most reliable
woman, the nurse attached to his ward
Size had replaced an attendant who had
obtained leave to spend Christmas al
home. Poor Newbold was very sensitive
and the loud voice and somewhat demon
strative manner of the new woman jarreo
upon his nerves. went to the matron.
'There is young woman sent here
through Florence Nightingale-a mos
respectable, kind-looking person." sale
the matron. "She has only been here {
week, but / don't doubt for moment sht
will turn out to be the best nurse in tht
hospital. Shall l send her to you"
"rhank you, very much; pray do"
said. "Send her up to the ward at once.
The Christmas bells were ringing; yol
could hear the music wandering up anC
down the streets, carried hither ant
thither by the wind. Visitors had all lef
the wards for the night; the patients lay
there listening to the melody of the bells
and thinking of other DAYS; the light Of
the Christmas candles fell upon the darl
leaves of the holly; here and there thu
white berries of the mistletoe reflected
back the subdued glimmer. 1t is sac
picture, hospital on Christmas eve; tht
shadows of the place seem to be signifi
cant-such tender memories hover above
the narrow beds
The new nurse came in the ward while
| sat there. 1t was sweet face, as saw
it with the soft light upon it-a kind
sad, pitying face. Newbold looked at hel
curiously us she entered. Then he raised
himself up suddenly, and before l hardly
knew what happened, be was locked in
her arms.
Lucy, Lucy, my dear, dear siste I" ht
was saying his voice nearly drowned il
the sobs of the woman whose face was
lying upon his shoulder.
The bells appeared to receive new
strength just at that moment. II was the
wind which brought the sound close up
to the windows on its way down the
river.
"Thank God" I exclaimed, and my
heart leaped with strange joy. | felt
like child ready to weep. 1t was as if
/ had been reading some pitiful story. !
walked out into the corridor, opened a
window, and put my head into the frosty
air. The stars crowded the sky, and the
bell-music seemed to belong to their pur
ity. / was never fit for hospital sur
geon; my feelings were always too little
under control. When ! went back into
the ward she was sitting by his side,
holding his head. His face was full of
peace and happiness. 1t was as if an angel
had been there.
We buried him on New Years Day.
Y X
Her story is soon told. She lost hei
husband in the Crimea. After that she
joined Florence Nightingale's band Of
nurses. and eventually came back to
England. Providence sent her to the
Severnshire Hospital on that Christmas
Eve-sent her, that George Newbold's last
hours might be solaced with her tender
words and happy memories Of the Christ.
mas days that were gone.
If it were not next to impious to think
that what befell afterward was anything
but accidental, l could fancy that some
special consideration for the poor hospit
al surgeon also filled up the providential
design.
The spring lcame, and the summer, and
the stars shone once more above the bell
music that the wind carried down to the
river. If we had been young people, anc
without chastened sorrow in our hearts
the bells might have rung afresh in ths
summer that followed; for the house sur
geon married the heroine of this sac
story, and she sits by his side with hel
sweet sympathetic smile, while he triei
to tell you, without faltering, the history
of the withered leaves.
And now let us put back the Christina
treasure. If you will rummage over the
contents of old cabinets, you must come
upon skeletons. Close the drawer, shut
down the ancient lid, look out through
the western window, and yonder yor
may see the sun making "a golden set
behind the towers of the County Hos
pital, in Sabrina's classic valley.
Another ruined gamblers suicide il
announced from Monte Carlo. 1t was {