The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1897-02-24
Two Folded Lambs.

have met together at last in that city
where no sin can enter, where no pain
can ever come.
Two short lives, whose memories
still linger around our children's ward,
each teaching us sweet lessons OF child
ish faith and patience.
There is little red box on my desk
as write, and it brings back the men,
ory of Sunday afternoon in early
spring-time, when all nature was burst
ing into new and joyous beauty, and
the two llttlesisters who leaned against
their mothers knee seemed just as full
of brightness as the day. Mother was
reading aloud a story..of our own dear
children's ward, telling Of how we
lopged 10 throw the doors open even
wider to his suffering little ones.
"Well," asked Peggy, as she danced
though the long porch window after
branch of honeysuckle; "if they
want to open those hospital doors
you're reading about, why don't they
find the key and open 'em ?"
"Oh, mother =" laughed Florence,
"Peggy thinks they have lost the key.
She don't know it is money they
need"
But Florence understood, and moth
er found on her bureau a few days
afterwards this little red box, in which
penny and dime ratified noisily.
ats part of the key Peggy talked
about, mother dear, she said, as the
little red box grew heavier and heavier,
and the pennies found less and less
room to rattle around. The Summer
came and God, who knew that little
Florence was far too sweet to miss
from among the company of his angels,
sent q gentle messenger to call her
home. There was nothing strange or
wonderful in this to little Florence /;
patiently day by day she lay waiting
for his coming, anxious only that all
her loving plans be carried out.
"And, mother" she would say,
when with her feeble little fingers,
she dropped those last pennies into the
box that was now too heavy for weak,
trembling hands to hold ''you surely
won't forget to send the little red box.
Pm sorry there isn't more in it, but it
may help to take care of some sick lit
tie girl, as you do of me-" =.
All me! The little red box came all
too soon with its precious contents,
lust when the Summer roses scattered
their leaves over the new-made grave.
| K
And the other little girl. They
carried her into our children's ward,
one door, poor, bent little form, used
only from her birth to harshness and
brutality with a pleading, suffering
face that seemed to beg forgiveness for
| its very existence. Such was little
Jeanette. But in our hospital ward,
week by week the poor twisted limbs
grew straighter, and day by day jean
cite began to find new brightness and
unknown happiness in a life where
tenderness and loved reigned supreme.
We all loved little jeanette. The day
the dear kind doctor himself first led
her faltering steps across the ward we
held a little jubilee.
"Faith, and it's myself is glad to see
the child on her legs" called old Mrs.
Flanagan from her bed in the corner,
"Jeannette, you're sure now If you
are little shaky," cried Tim the office
boy, as he passed at the door.
And Jeanette's blue eyes were full
of happy Tears.
otis great deal nicer to be only q
lame cripple than a stay-in-bed Grip
ple," she said, smiling.
TO let her grow strong and well in
the sweet country air we sent her
that year to dear Devon. God bless
it with it rest and beauty for all who
come within it's walls, and its far-away
glimpses of loveliness almost as fair to
tired eyes as the everlasting hills of
promise. Such summer of joy for
little Jeanette! Happy in her new
found strength, she and her small
black kitten trotted everywhere. out
on the lawn, with the daisies around
her, down In the woods by the laurel
bushes we can all tell our little
stories ofJeaDette's one bright summer.
"Sure that's the very clump O. VIC
lets Jeanette dragged up from the
woods one day." the old gardener says
as he bends over a few green leaves
by the great stone porch that he guards
carefully for her sake.
"The wee bairn used to stand in
that vera corner, wi her bit o. an iron
at her doll's Clothes" the kind-hearted
Scotch lauudress eXclaims, as I pass
her in the lower halls.
But Winter days came everywhere,
and in the months that followed, Jean.
ette's heart turned longingly and low
ingly to Devon, the one home the lone
ly child ever known.
"When May comes I will 60 back, "
she said 80 often.
Whey May came, and Devon looked
its fairest under the summer skies, and
the hills blushed rosy red with the
laurel bloom, Jeanette lay once more
in our hospital ward suffering with o
dread disease that neither greatest skill
nor tenderest care could battle. When
the cruel fever parched the little lips
and strange fancies clouded the clear
head, she would murmur to herself as
she tossed on the pillow:
"It's always cool at Devon"
Then again
"Oh! please, want drink so can't
you hear the Devon brook ?"
Far fairer than Devon are the ever
lasting hills, far purer than earthly
streams Is the crystal sea around the
throne, and love, fatherly, eternal and
Interchangeable, forever lies around little
Jeanette.
Florence and little Jeanette, they
have met together at last in that coun'
try where no sin can enter, where no
pain can ever come.
| Baked Beans
Take one pint of navy beans boil in