Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1888-04-09
Sister Name.


and relinquished the baptismal name
for the new one of Sister St. John
she did so with little more knowledge
of the world she was renouncing thar
the painted Madonna over the altar
| An orphan almost from babvhood,
intrusted while but child to the
care of the sisters of Our Lady's con-
| tions were all for the quiet nuns and
| the narrow, placid round of convent
life. For years, with few glimpses
beyond, their high walled garden
bounded her existence, till, at eight
cen, the round of prescribed studies
accomplished, ,she passed out of those
familiar gates, to find herself an alien
in thought and feeling to the new
life around her, bewildered by its
brightness. distracted by It's gaiety.
Under these circumstances it was
not strange that she should look back
to the convent as a blessed retreat
from life's ills and evils, and write to
her dear mother superior her desire
to make it her vocation and home.
Now mother Baptista we'll knew
that although quick, active, energetic
in practical matters, Angela was any,
thing but brilliant scholar. That
she had halted in her languages, blum
dered in her music, tangled her silks
over her embroidery, while the sisters
of "Our Lady" were noted far and
wide for the skill of their needlework,
and the exactness of their accomplish
ments. She laid the question before
the convent confessOr, who solved the
problem by saying, "Make her sis
ter of charity"
SO Angela's fate and future were
decided, and though she would have
preferred returning to the familiar
walls, her long habit of obedience
stood her in good stead, and in six
months from leaving "Our Lady's"
she entered the training school of ST.
Vincent hospital, whence, her two
years of noviciate ended, as Sister
st. John, she was transferred to ac-
tive duty in St. Vincent hospital, an
edifce belonging to and managed by
sisters of charity.
A sombre old pile was St. Vincent's
with its high, square, central towers,
and wide, fanky wings of red brick,
storm dimmed and smoke darkenCd,
set IN yard of the greenest turf,
fecked with beds of gayest flowers
that instead of softening, seemed only
to intensity the grimness of the walls
that rose over them. Within was
speckless neatness, fawless order.
Deft and quiet, the sisters glided
through the long halls and wards with
their rows of little white beds, and
wan, wasted occupants. Here Sister
ST. John found her life work. Was
she happy, do you ask? She had oc-
cupation, interest. OF the strong
emotions that lift the soul on the
flood tides of being, she knew moth
ing. Love had never unveiled the
shrine of her heart, or sorrow unseal-
did her duty fully, faithfully, gave
medicine, arranged bandages, minis
tered to the suffering and dying, a
tended her devotions if there was
any subtle, half impalpable, hardly
definable lack, she was unconscious
of it. Five, ten, fifteen years passed,
and one day, an English woman,
widow, in the last stages of consump-
ton, was brought to ST. Vincent
accompanied by her little girl, a lisp
ing, dimpled baby of two. 1t was
not the wont of the hospital to admit
children with patients, but the pas
sion of mother love swept aside all
objection. 1t was not for long, how
ever. Sister ST. John was on duty
the night the end came, and took the
child from her crib to receive her
mothers last caress. ooh my little
Mamie," moaned the dying woman,
''what will become of you?'' But the
little one, hardly aroused. unconscious
of its loss, nestled sleepily in Sister
ST. Johns arms, land clasped her dim
pied arms around her neck. The ac-
ton gave a new thought to the moth
er. "Sister,'' she whispered, "you
have been kind to me; leave Mamie
in your care; love her, be good to
her." Was it the memory of her own
motherless childhood, the pleading
look in those dim eyes, or the press
ure of the sweet, warm face on her
heart? (perhaps she could hardly
have told herself) that moved her to
accept the trust, and a restful smile
touched the white face on the pillow,
and Mamie slept again in the strong,
clasping arms.
Sister st. John stood high in infiu-
ence and authority, 80 her little charge
became a part of the life at st. Vim
cents, and her merry tones broke the
staid silence of the grim old hospital.
1t seemed a strange place for child
in those hushed rooms and dim corri-
dors,. as though the ever present
breath of suffering and disease would
cast a grewsome shadow over her
young life. But Mamie felt no at
mosphere but the potent one of love; ;
light as the kitten that frol-
licked with her, she danced through
the halls; joyous and fearless as a
sunbeam, she fitted in and out of the