The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1893-08-22
IN THE CITY HOSPITALS.
Pathetic Scenes in These Grand
Asylums for Broken Lives.

It'll be such change from the hos
pital to Heaven. / don't complain. The
leddies is good to me, but please God
want to 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 it close to
her bosom, and is evidently anxious to
tell us something.
"See here, leddies, read thisr' 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 trihe to put
this in the evening paper, and the prin-
ter had set it up between notice of an
indignant husband who warned the
public not to trust his wife, and one
from 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 it is" said she, 'all in black
and white. He can't miss it, and he'll
be sure to come, my John, and he'll
find me a-waitin'
Yes, there it 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 flimsy 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
will surely see it, Her eyes are bright
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 large and comfortable building
overlooking the broad blue lake, but
we remember that it is hospital, a
place consecrated to pain and suffering.
Many of the inmates are but frag-
ments 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
rifice-some good women of whatsoever
sect or creed-who were willing to pour
their rich, abundant personality into so
many empty lives.
asked one old man if he had any
relatives living. mo" said he, 81 am
only meself, with no relatives but me
neighbors."
The Germans and Norwegians never
Joke, but the Irish, even in pain and
DO verify, 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 fowers?''
inquired the sister.
''What do them fine leddies 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 us somethin' why don't
they bring bit of tobaccy?'
Indeed" said another, ''or drop o.
whisky. We won't refuse that, an it'd
be more appropriate like"
Withal, they are most respectful to
the nurses, whose influence over them
is great. You have heard of the order
ana cleanliness which prevail in these
institutions the white beds and clean
floors and discipline and sacrifice. The
most curious and interesting thing Is
the life of the inmates.
The most of them have walked in
crooked paths, eontending with misfor-
tune, their lives either pale with want
or discolored by passion. 1t 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 a
bit of neighborhood gossip, and no one
to scold or complain of, which Is in
deed no slight privation.
Bernardo de st. Pierre says: Among
all the unfortunates / have tried to
bring back to nature, have not found
one who was not intoxicated with his
own misery"
The caryatid bears burdens, and even
when the load is lifted, its wings are
still stretched to the tension to which
the habit of burden bearing has aecus-
toned them.
We win touch kindly the history Of
those who have the backward look in
their faces, the light in whose eyes is
that of retrospection.
We found an old sailor upon his back
in little rear room which he had chris
tened the "fo'cassel," because 1t re-
minded him of that part of the ship.
He is a foreigner, shipwrecked far from
home, and, like Enoch Arden, waiting
for - SAIL 1t is almost within hail,
to bear him out over the wide ocean Of
eternity.
One old woman has friends who want
her TO go east and live with them, but
she will not, because her family are
buried in this place and she wants
to rest beside them She has
saved few dollars for a tombstone,
and wanted it deliberately carved in
verse, but has consented to have some
thing simple, setting forth her age and
her virtues.
Another old German woman is wait
ing for legacy. She has land some
where, which she expects will be sold.
When she gets the money from this
terra incognita" she is going home to
the fatherland. The nurse said her
thoughts were always wandering away
to this one object, like carrier doves
which had learned the way to fayorite
spot
While the old people who keep alive
some forlorn hope in their souls are
pitiabie, yet those who are without this
spark seem more so. They are dead to
all but physical existence.
That old man who lies SO still. tAkin9