Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1894-02-08

the poor woman came TO me ag0in;
Don't weep, doctor; you will stand be-
fore many sick bed as you have stood
here, where the Lord will not help"
had been summoned too late; / had
not been able to save the child. "You
will stand before many sick bed as
you have stood here" hid my face in
the pillow. 1T was terrible night; the
torturing thoughts which made me so
restless were very different from the
pleasant dreams which had encouraged
me in both my waking and sleeping
hours.
Early on the following day an old
college friend came who had sought
me on his way through the city. He
dragged me over the crowded streets,
into the M useums into all sorts of
restaurants. He complained of my
taciturnity. feigned a heada he and
escaped the necessity of having to see
a sensational play at the Court theater.
Tired and worn out, went at last
alone to my own room. On my way
there l passed a window OF n brightly
lighted flower shop. I walked in and
bought costly white camellia and
some sweet-smelling violets. went up
the five flights to the room of the poor
woman. I found the door unlocked.
1t was family lighted and little coffin
stood in the middle of the room. In it
lay the child dressed in a white gown.
The ribbon on the hat on the wall had
been made into two little bows, the
myrtle wreath lay on the blonde hair,
and the geraniurn was laid upon her
breast. On the table stood lamp and
the open song book lay near by it.
laid the beautiful white flower in
the little motiorlless hand, and put the
bouquet of flowers on the quiet breast;
then looked at the open book. The
page was turned at an old song which 1
had learned at school, and had soon
forgotten.
/ laid the book away signing. The
words which had read, the awful still
ness, the peacefully resting child, op-
pressed ray heart; / went home, after
asking i'll the house for the hour of in
terment.
Invent to bed early. was very tired,
and all disquiet left me. And, as if
called forth by strange power, the
words of an ardent prayer flowed over
my lips; the prayer that God might
bless me in my difficult position, and
might change my conceited assurance
in my own kill into submissive trust
in His protection, whenever my little
knowledge and my earnest wishes
would not avail; that I might hope for
Gods comfort at all sick-beds where l
must, as on yesterday, stand helpless.
Early in the morning / awaited the
little coffin in the courtyard. A man
bore it; the mother in her poor black
clothing followed. She pressed my
hand and gave me thankful look
when she saw that had joined the lit
tie process ion. The way was not long.
This streets were almost empty; the air
was very mild for November. AS the
iron gate of the burial ground opened,
the weeping woman dropped her head
upon her breast. Beside the open grave
stood clergyman.
II have made it my duty as long as
my strength lasts to give last blessing
to all the dead of my parish" said he,
softly, as my astonished look met his.
Dear, kind priest, you did not suspect
how the plain, holnely words of bless
ing which you spoke over the little cof-
fin gave comfort to the poor woman,
and to myself as well!
I'm Gods hama everlasting rest is
found"
81 know it, know it," sobbed the
woman, and she bent her pale face over
the hand of the young priest.
On the evening of the same day
went to my relatives All the older
members of the family were absent.
Only Cousin Marie was at home to re-
ceive me- We sat at the window and
let the moonlight shine upon us, and
then told her how had visited my
first patient and what 1 had learned
thereby of value to my calling. Marie
said nothing during my confession,
but suddenly felt myself em braced
by her arms. She looked at me with
moist eyes
"Look, Max" she said. 'Now you
know well in what respect you failed
in your profession. Thank God that
you have gained this knowledge through
your first patient. Now l think that
you will become an able physician, who
will always do good, even when his
own skill shall not avail"
kissed my cousin.
"And now, what do you mean?" ]
said. "Have you the courage to be-
come the wife of such doctor?"
She smiled in the midst of her tears,
and we were betrothed at last.
Fortune willed it that on the next
day l should again be called to attend
a child, who was very sick with the
Group. was also fortunate to be able
to save it. Much grace has God since
then allowed to be bestowed through
my hands to the sick and the poverty
stricken. My profession became dearer
and dearer to me. The mother of the
child who had been my first patient
soon moved into my house to attend to
| the management of the household until
my dearest one became my wife. She
then stayed with us as cook, until later
she became nurse to our first-born
daughter, Marie. She wept over the
child for Joy, and in thankful remem-
brance of the little blonde girl who