Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1893-07-27
IN THE CITY HOSPITALS.
Pathetic Scenes In These Grand
Asylums for Broken Lives.

"Itll be such change from the hos
pital TO Heaven. don't complain. The
leddies is good to me, but please God 1
want 10 go home"
Poor old dame; she had uttered a
poem. Her withered face holds the Sc
crets of the long days march which is
just about to end.
You pass on through the long room,
with its shiny floor and rows of iron
bedsteads, with the little altar away at
the upper end, and here and there a
white face upon the pillow.
Here comes a little old woman cour-
tesying and smiling. She has a news
paper in her hand, holding 1t close to
her bosom, and is evidently anxious to
tell us something.
'Sec here, leddies, read thisl" She
opened the paper and directed our at
tention TO a notice. 1t was a simple
notice saying that information was
wanted Of John Raglan, and that he
might hear Of his mother by applying
TO st. Mary's hospital.
1t had cost some friend trife to put
this in the evening paper, and the prin-
ter had set it up between a notice of an
indignant husband who warned the
public not TO trust his wife, and one
from a gay worlds man who wanted
the blonde lady he had met somewhere
TO send him her address.
Into this personal column of tragedies
and comedies went the mothers inquiry
for her lost son.
There II is" said she, "all in black
and white. lie can't miss II, and he'll
be sure TO come, my John, and he'll
find me a-waitin'."
Yes, there II was, indeed, in black and
white-say, rather, in letters of gold,
SO bright that they kept hope warm in
that forlorn old heart over which she
carefully folded that worn copy OF the
Evening Star.
1t had been published more than a
year, yet her faith that John would
come was not made of such fimsy stuff
as wears out in few months or years.
When she goes to bed at night she is
sure he will be here on the morrow.
Thus she keeps the love lamp burn
ing in the window of her soul John
and restless and she cannot be induced
to leave the place for an hour, for John
might come and she must be there TO
meet him.
1t is u large and comfortable building
overlooking the broad blue lake, but
we remember that 1t is hospital, a
place consecrated to pain and suffering.
Many of the inmates are but frag-
mcnts of mortals, humanity's mutilated
coin, and will never circulate again in
the worlds exchange. As | looked
along the line of withered faces and
thought of broken, storm-tossed lives
my heart ached and yet gave thanks
that some were found to make the sac
riAce-some good women of whatsoever
sect or creed-who were willing to pour
their rich, abundant personality into SC
many empty lives.
asked one old man II he had any
relatives living. NO" said he, 81 am
only meself, with no relatives but me
neighbors."
The Germans and Norwcgians never
Joke, but the Irish, even in pain and
poverty, never lose their native wit.
One summer morning some ladies
of the flower mission went about the
hospital Offering bouquets to the sick,
which the men, as general thing, re.
fused.
"Why did you not take the AowersP
inquired the sister.
what do them fine lcddies want To
sell flowers to us fellers for?" asked one
of the men.
"Oh, they did not want TO sell them
but give them to you" explained the
sister.
"Then," said the old sailor, "if they
want to give MS somethin' why don't
they bring bit Of tobaccy?"
Indeed" said another, "or a drop o
whisky. We won't refuse that, an it'd
be more appropriate like"
Withal, they are most respectful &c
the nurses, whose influence over then
Is great. You have heard Of the order
anu cleanliness which prevail in these
institutions white beds and clean
floors and discipline and sacrifice. The
most curious and interesting thing /,
the life Of the inmates.
The most Of them have walked In
crooked paths, contending with misfor
tune, their lives either pale with want
or discolored by passion. II is not al
ways easy to discipline so many undis.
ciplined lives, with long habits crystal
LIED in soul and body. The grabbed
ness Of old age and pain, the love of q
bit of neighborhood gossip, and no one
TO scold or complain OF, which is in
deed no slight privation.
bernardo de ST, Pierre says; "Amonp
all the unfortunates ! have tried 70
bring back to nature, have not found
one who was not intoxicated with his
own misery"
The caryatid bears burdens, and, ever
when the load is lifted, its wings ar,
still stretched TO the tension to which
the habit of burden. bearing has aecus
toned them.
We will touch kindly the history o.
those who have the backward look In
their faces, the light in whose eyes Il
that of retrospection.
We found an old sailor upon his bacl
In little rear room which he had chris
tAnad tbs "fo'oaAsal" because II 70