The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1894-08-31
DIR. FREST0N'S BROTHER


taken place and eight of the men,
poor fellows, all badly injured, had
been brought into the Martin ward.
We all had heavy time Of 81, and
cur house surgeon--never very strong
had completely broken down under
the strain of his devoted attention to
his patients.
He had the satisfaction of seeing all
the cases with one exception) fairly
started on the road to convalescenCe
before he, too came on the sick list,
and was ordered absolute rest for sew
cral months. No man ever deserved u
rest more than he.
BY his constant and unwearied la
bors Of love he had earned the bless
ing pronounced on Abou Ben Adhem
as. "One who loved his fellow-men."
We all greatly missed his CHEEKY pres
ence in the wards, and felt small in
terest in the doctor who came as his
"locum" feeling sure that no one could
take his place.
DR.. Preston, the temporary house
surgeon, however, made a favorable
Impression on bis arrival and soon
showed that he thoroughly knew his
work. He had quiet, reserved man
ner, and we had worked together some
days before | learned anything more
about him. Then an accident, II there
Is such a thing, Showed me the real
man. One evening, on going his rounds
j reported a new case, just come In, to
him. 1t was man who had been
found lying In the road. He had evil
IDENTIFY fallen against the curbstone and
had received scalp wound That he
was stranger in the town was proved
by some papers in his pocket, showing
him to have been discharged from a
sailing vessel at Hull few days pre-
yiously.
Il have not made out his history
yet" | said; she seems to be very
poor, and apparently has no friends"
NO friends! repeated DR.. Preston,
with an expression | had not seen on
his face before. Every few of us re-
alize what those words mean, sister.
IL means more than mere friendliness.
1t means a mans life without any in
1uence for good upon it-no restraint
to keep him from sinking to the lowest
depths; no anchor to hold him back
from suffering shipwreck on the rocks
which surround us all; some seen, and
some hidden ones more dangerous than
all. Nor---- He seemed to have for
gotten he was speaking TO me, and
remembering checked himself.
I'VE see so many such lives in our
work" said.
Yes" he said, slowly and absently.
as If his thoughts were far away, 'it
must always be a sad sight, even IL
those who suffer are utter strangers
to u.s." e.
He paused, then turned round to face
me, and spoke more quickly, as if he
wished to force himself to say some
thing. |l..
''To me it is the most painful sight
of all, because ] am haunted by the
feeling that somewhere in this world
there may now be a man who Is
friendless and alone through my fault.
Every fresh face see think may be
his. Every morning | wake with the
thought that l may see 1t before
night"
l looked at him with intense inter-
est, My womans instinct, which so
seldom errs, told me that he had never
spoken of this to any one before, and
that 1t was great relief to him TO
do so now.
| longed TO hear more. He seemed |
to read the sympathy expressed in my !
race and went on more quietly:
II had a younger brother. There |
were only two of us. | was older by |
three years, and both in appearance |
and character we were totally unlike. |
He had been spoiled by my father, |
who always let him have his own way |
chiefly, i fancy, on account of the |
strong likeness he bore to our mother, |
who died when we were quite young.
/ was at Oxford reading for degree |
previous to entering the hospital when |
my father died. and but do | bore |
you? l have no right to inflict all this |
on you, but somehow You always look |
as If you were used to hearing other |
peoples troubles. I notice every one
comes to YOU"
please go on" l could not say more.
my father had had nasty fall in |
the hunting field, and was almost at |
the last before / got to him. All his |
affairs were in perfect order, but he |
was anxious about Jack-always his !
first thought.
you'll look after him, Tom, he |
said. Promise me you will look after |
him. II you promise know you won't |
go back. A promise Is promise with |
you, Tom; | could always trust YOU
II did promise. again and again, and
God knows l meant to keep my word,
and my old father died quite happy
with my promise still sounding in his
ears and his eyes resting to the last
on his darling Jack. He never doubt
cd me for moment. How could he
foresee? l am thankful he died
happy. Do you think he knows now,
sister, how | kept my wOrd?"
shook my head. but did not speak.
IL went back to Oxford, and Jack
entered the same college That was
the mistake. At a distance-if | had
only seen him now and then--we nigh.
have got on we'll enough; but at my
elbow, always bursting into my room
when I wanted to read, filing his
room with friends az noisy and light
hearted as himself, spending money
recklessly on all sides, and turning
everything said into joke-all this
was daily annoyance to me. 1t grew
had no sympathy at all
with any OF his pursuits, and | grew
more cold and reserved, until one day.
a n