Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1897-05-15

the doctors wife.
I opened the door. A poorly
clad woman stood before me in the
dim light of the late fall day. A
pair of great dark eyes looked be-
seemingly at me from a face thin
and streaked with coal dirt.
Doctor" she said in trembling
voice; "oh, doctor, be merciful, I
beg you My little Mary is SO sick.'
That name atoned, to some extent,
for the disappointment which the
woman's poverty.stricke appear
ance had caused, for it did not har
monte with my recent dreams.
"Wbo are your Who sends you
to me ?" l asked.
"No one sends me- replied the
woman, softly and rapidly. "Oh,
doctor, do come Ever since morn
ing I've been carrying coal from the
wagon to the next house. / live
over opposite in the court. My
child has been sick since yesterday,
and found her so much worse when
| hurried home for minute just
now"
| hesitated somewhat, the disap-
pointment was SO great. The wo-
man wiped with her grimy hand a
face that already showed the traces
of tears. She sobbed painfully.
II suppose ought to call in the
charity doctor; but your servant is
son of the cobbler in our court and
he has told all the neighbors that
you were so kind hearted. Oh, help
my little grill"
"Well, of course, the woman must
be helped. | was human, and sure
ly knew what was due to humanity.
So | went with her, after first taking
out, with an importance that sur
prised and half-shamed me, most of
the necessary instruments o. ply
sician.
Across the street to great court
lying behind a long row of houses,
up five flights, each darker and
sleeper than the last, through an i'll.
fitting door into a little chamber
with sloping ceiling and one tiny
window, and there on a poor but
neat bed, with feverish limbs, and
wandering, unconscious eyes, lay a
child about fourteen months old.
The woman knelt down by the bed.
"Sbe doesn't know me any more"
abe meaned.
The child coughed hoarsely. That
was Group of the worst kind. / tore
leaf from my blank book and wrote
my first real prescription.
$50 to the nearest apothecary's,"
I said.
She looked at me with some en-
barrassment.
"Can't take it to King street.
she asked.
"No, indeed,"I cried. "Why do
you not wish to go to the apothe-
cary in this street 2"
The woman Redeemed visibly in
spite of the coal dirt.
II think )" she stammered, sat the
Eagle Pharmacy, in King street,
they may know me. I carry coal
there, and perhaps they wilt have
no money"
A large tear fell on the paper in
her hand.
"Oh, these people who can't pay
for doctor or medicine either!" 1
said, impatlently to myself. 1 took
out some money and said aloud /:
"There, take that and hurry y
The woman pressed her lips on
the little ones hand, and then, be-
fore / could stop her, on mine, and
fastened away.
/ looked around the room for a
seat. A poor chair, rough box,
an old table, some cheap kitchen
utensils on the low, cold stove,
which took the place of a range ; in
one corner, hanging on the wall, a
threadbare WOODEN dress, and near it
child's gown and little hat trim
med with blue ribbon; on the mar
row shelf near the tiny window a
curled myrtle plant, scarlet gera-
mum, and a hymn book with bright
gilt edges; that was all that the room
contained.
l brought up the chair and sat
down near the little sick girl. She
was evidently we'll nourished her
little limbs were plump and shapely,
the golden hair soft and curly. She
breathed painfully, but she was not
conscious and her blue eyes stared
straight before her, as il she were
looking into distant, unknown
country. It was cold in the room.
/ went to the stove, but found only
few chips-too few to build fire.
So / sat down and waited for the
woman and the medicine.
Again and again my glance wan
dered about the poverty-s stricken
room. A poor, Woodworking wo.
man who carried coal on the street,
while her child lay sick and suffer
ing; and yet she certainly loved her
child tenderly.,
| Suddenly a thought shot through
my mind that | should not be able