Connecticut western news., 1895-06-27
SISTERS OF CHARITY.
REV. DR. TALMAGE CONTINUES THE SUBJECT OF WoMEN'S RIGHTS.

Minister to tho Distressed. to Plead For
 Divine Forgiveness and to Wear the
 Grown of Glory In Heaven.
 BEATRICE, Neb., June 23.- In his ser mon for today, Rev. Dr. Talmage, who is now on his summer western tour, has chosen subject that must awaken the sympathies of all lovers of humanity viz, "Sisters of Charity" The text se- lected was Acts K, S6, "This woman was full of good works and almsdeeds which she did,
 Starting now where I left off last Sabbath in reciting woman's opportuni- ties, I have to say that woman has the special and superlative right of blessing and comforting the sick. What land, what street, what house, has not felt the smitings of disease? Tens of thou sands of sickbedsl What shall we do with them? Shall man, with his rough hand and heavy foot and impatient bear ing, minister? No He cannot soothe the pain. He cannot quiet the nerves. He knows not where to set the light. His hand is not steady enough to pour out the drops He is not wakeful enough to be watcher. The Lord God sent Miss Dix into the Virginia hospitals, and the Maid of Saragossa to appease the wounds of the battlefield, and has equipped wife, mother and daughter for this delicate but tremendous mission. You have known men who have despised women, but the momeft disease fell upon them they did not send for their friends at the bank, or their partner in business, or their worldly associates Their first cry was, ''Take me to my wife" The dis sipated young man at the college scoffs at the idea of being under home inf1u- ences, but at the first blast of the ty- phoid fever on his cheek he says, "Where is mother?" Walter Scott wrote partly in satire and partly in compliment when he said:
 o woman, in our hour of ease.
 Uncertain, coy and hard to please,
 When pain and anguish wiring the brow,
 ministering angel thoul
 A Pathetic scriptural Story.
 I think the most pathetic passage in all the Bible is the description of the lad who went out to the harvest field of Shunem and got sunstruck-throwing his hands on his temples and crying out :: "Oh, my headi My headp' And they said, "Carry him to his mother" And then the record is, "He sat on her knees till noon, and then died. It is an aw- full thing to be i'll away from home in a strange hotel, once in awhile men com- ing to look at you, holding their hand over their mouth for fear that they will catch the contagion. How roughly they turn you in bed II How loudly they talk How you long for the ministries of home knew one such who went away from one of the brightest of homes for several weeks business absence at the west. A telegram came at midnight that he was on his deathbed far away from home. By express train the wife and daughters went westward, but they went too late. He feared not to die, but he was in an agony to live until his family got there. He tried to bribe the doctor to make him live little while longer He said, 1T am willing to die, but not alone" But the pulses flutter- ed, the eyes closed and the heart stop ped. The express trains met in the mid night-wife and daughters going vest ward, lifeless remains of husband and father coming eastward. Oh, it was 8 sad, pitiful. overwhelming spectaclel When we are sick, we want to be sick at home. When the time comes for us to die, we want to die at home The room may be very humble, and the faces that look into ours may be very plain, but who cares for that? Loving hands to bathe the temples. Loving voices to speak good cheer. Loving lips to read the comforting promises of Jesus
 In our last dreadful war men cast the cannon; men fashioned the musketry 1; men cried to the hosts, Forward, march l' men hurled their battalions on the sharp edges of the enemy, crying, "Charge, chargeP' but woman scraped the lint; woman administered the cor dials; woman watched by the dying couch woman wrote the last message to the home circle; woman wept at the soli- tary burial attended by herself and four men with spade. We egreeted the general home with brass bands and triumphal arches and wild huzzas, but the story is too good to be written anywhere, save in the chronicles of heaven, of Mrs. Brady, who came down among the sick in the swamps of the Chickahominy; of Annie Ross, in the cooper shop hospital i; of Margaret Breckinridge, who came to men who had been for weeks with their wounds undressed, some of them frozen to the ground, and when she turned them over those that had an arm left waved it and filled the air with their "Hurrah!" of Mrs. Hodge, who came from Chicago with blankets and with pillows, until the men shouted :: "Three cheers for the Christian com missionl God bless the women at home;" then, sitting down to take the last message: "Tell my wife not to fret about me, but to meet me in heaven. Tell her to train up the boys whom we have loved so we'll Tell her we shall meet again in the good land. Tell her to bear my loss like the Christian wife of 8 Christian soldier" and of Mrs Shelton, into whose face the convales- cent soldier looked and said, "Your grapes and cologne cured me-" Men did their work with shot and she'll and car bine and howitzer, women did their work with socks and slippers and band ages, and warm drinks, and Scripture texts, and gentle strokings of the hot temples, and stories of that land where they never have any pain. Men knelt down over the wounded and said, "On which side did you fight?" Women knelt down over the wounded and said Where are you hurt? What nice thing can I make for you to eat? What makes you cry?" Tonight, while we men are sound asleep in our beds. there will be . light in yonder loft; there will be grooming in that dark alley; there will be cries of distress in that cellar. Men will sleep, and women will watch.
 A Suporlstive Right.
 Again, woman has superlative right
 Y1