The Forrest City times., 1893-06-16

ny dld you not take the nowers| 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 a 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 and 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, contending with misfor- tune, their lives either pale with want or discolored by passion. It is not all ways easy to discipline so many undis- ciplined lives, with long habits crystal lized 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 l have tried to bring back to nature, l have not found one who was not intoxicated with his own misery"
 The caryatid bears burdens, and, even when the load is lifted, it's wings are still stretched to the tension to which the habit of burden bearing has accus- toned them.
 We will 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 a little rear room which he had chris tened the ''focassel," because it re- minded him of that part of the ship. He is foreigner, shipwrecked far from home, and, like Enoch Arden, waiting for "a sail.' It 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 tombstone, and wanted it elaborately 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 a 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 favorite spot
 While the old people who keep alive some forlorn hope in their souls are pitiab.e, 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, taking no notice, was baby on his mothers knee more than century ago. WOuutT II lllo W iiiCh oCCAAio doACCp now, holds the pictures of the past, of the round of years during which nations have marched to liberty and marked off a century of progress.
 Does he remember how steam and electricity have flashed the world on- ward? How labor has been frightened by invention and genius has outdone the fairy lore of his far-off childhood? Alas, with all this there is poverty and pain, which no invention of genius has ever been able to make easy or abolish.
 h room full of old ladies one was reading prayer, to which all the others responded. They kept their re- ligion and it's ceremonies closely inter- woven with their lives
 We remember how men in all ages of the world, in critical moments, have sought the advice of old women. The sibyls and seers, who are not all dead yet, either gave them advice out of the wisdom of their experience, or humored the superstition of philosophers up to the top of it's bent.
 What bits of experience you could piece together in your crazy quilt of life, my withered danes, in your little black caps Once in awhile we detect light in your eyes which tells that the dreams are not all over yet.
 We are glad you are comfortable in your warm flannel, and for the most of you the heart has also put on its winter clothing, swathed itself, so to speak. in fannei-all the loves and hopes and