Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1881-03-30
Only a Cripple


" along a crowded street, ran over q
| little child aud hurt his spine, The
boy was tho son Of poor eobbler'
Ills bed was u straw pallet on a gar
ret floor, When tho Injury was
pronounced ineurable he was removed
from tho hospital 10 This bed There
was nothing for him 10 look forward
to but years Of misery Ia The filth and
halt darkness Of tho wrelehed garret
Ills mother was dead, Ills father In
tho shop below could barely Keep
them from starving, The young tel
low who hurt him was Sarry, but
what could he do' lie was fast
clerk on q small salary, Now aud
then u kindly lrishwoman on the low
or floor, ~ wretched ~ themselves,
would run up to "hearlen The creature
np BIT + but that was ALL The
only view from the square window
was q corner Of the next ROOT, and tho
event Of the day for the miserable
cripple was 10 see The cats CLUB along
il or fight each other Foul smells
and ioul language came up from the
rooms below TO him. There seemed
to be no other possible chance tor h'S
lite than TO die down into still more
brutal ignorance and misery, and to
90 on, like an ill.smelling flame into
the eternal night.
Now, just at that time little Eng
l,sh lad, who had come with his father
to visit the Centennial Exposition,
while passing along quiet street OF
the city in which the cripple lived
saw some pale-taced children peer'ng
at him out of the windows OF a large
house set back among trees. Over
the gate was the name, "Children's
Hospital The boys kindly English
heart was touched; he turned aud
went in, jjoked and played awhile with
the poor babies, and when he went
back to his hotel wrote to bis mother
of the pleasant sunny rooms with
flowers in the windows and pictures
on the walls, and the motherly nurses
taking care of the little children.
II have seen nothing which pleased
me better in America" he said. 81
will go again and tell you about i!
when come home"
He never went home. The gallan:
little lad was taken back dead to his
mother q few weeks later. After the
violence Of her grief was past, in her
many efforts to show her gratitude to
the people who had nursed and been
kind to her boy she asked to be al.
lowed TO endow a memorial bed in the
little hospital which had pleased him
so much, and directed that it should
be filled with the most miserable,
needy case known to the managers
SO it came to pass that our little Grip.
pie on a warm spring day was carried
ont of his garret, hathed and laid on
pure white bed in sunny, pleasant
room. The other children in the ward
called to him and made acquaintance ;
there were toys, books, pictures for
them all. The good woman who
lifted him smiled at him; he thought
his mother must have looked like
that. Outside, the naples redeemed
in the sun and rustled in at the win
dows and the robins chirped and
built their nests. There were dainty
little meals brought to him. There
was the best skill the city could COM
mand given TO effect his cure. Good
women with their hearts full of Christ
love came TO teach him and tell him
of this unknown Saviour. AT his bed
head hangs little card which he
probably never has read or under
stood: "In memory of Riehard-
Of Sussex, England g"
Something In this little story hints
in dim way Of the infinite inextri.
cable tangle*of human. lives and their
memorable influence on each other.
When the English lad obeyed the
generous impulse to give moments
pleasure to the little children as he
passed, how could he tell that he lifted
this other lite up into the sunshine for
all time7 "The wcrd that we speak
to-day. says the Arab proverb, "shall
it not meet us again and again at the
turning OF the ways to show us how
1t has cured and blessed our fellows?'
II N. Y. Tribune.