Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1899-09-16
A MInIsterIns Angel.

1t is III awful thing 10 DO i'll away
from home in strange hotel. once in
awhile uen coming in TO look ut you,
holdin. heir hand over their mouth
for fea. lney will catch the contagion.
How roughly they turn you in bed
How loudly they talk How you long
for the ministries of homel ! know
one such who went away from one Of
the brightest of homes for several
waeks business absence at the west.
telegram came at midnight that he was
on Lis ,ic;. tabed far away from home.
b. 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.
Te tried to hribe the doctor to make
him live little while longer. He said,
81 am willing to die. but not alone.
Bnt the pulses auttered. the eyes closed
and the heart stopped. The express
trains met III the midnight, wife and
daughters going westward, lifeless re-
! mains of husband and father coming
! eastward. Oh. it was sad. pltlful'
overwhelming spectacle When we are
sick. we want to be sick at home.
When the time comes for rs 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 civil war men cast the cannon,
men fashioned the muskctly, men cried
to the hosts. Forward. marchl' mer
hurled their battalions on the sharp
edges of the enemy. crying, Charge.
charged" but woman scraped the lint.
woman administered the cordials. WON
an watched by thn dying couch. woman
wrote the last message to the home cir
Gle, woman wept at the solitary burial.
attended ny herself and four men with
spade We greeted the generals home
with brass bands and triumphal arches
and wild huZZas. bnt the story is too
good to be written anywhere save in
the chronicles of heaven. of Mrs. Brady,
who came down among the sick i'll the
swamps of the Chicl1ahominy of Annie
Ross. in the cooper shop hospital; Of
Margaret Breckenridge, 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 filed the air with their
.'hurrah of Mrs. Hodge, who came
from Chicago. with blankets and with
pillows. until the men shouted: "Three
cheers fer the Christian commission
God bless the women at homel" 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 hear my loss
like the Christian wife of Christian
soldier" and Of Mrs Shelton. into
whose face the conva!escent soldier
looked and said Your grapes and Co
lcgne cured me. And so it was also
| through all Of Our war with Spain
women heroic on the field. Drawing
death and wounds to reach the fallen.
watching by their fever cots in the
West Indian hospitals or on the troop
ships or in our smitten home camps.
Men did their work with shot and she'll
and carbine and howitzer; women did
their work with socks and slippers and
bandages and warm drinks and Scrip
ture texts and gentle stroking of the
hot temples and stories of that land
where they never have any pain. Men
knelt down over the wounded and said,
ION which side did you fght?" Wom-
en- knelt down over the wounded and
said: "Where are you hurt2 What nice
thing can I make for you to eatY What
makes you cry?" Tonight while we
III IN are sound asleep in our beds there
will be light in yonder loft; there
VIII be grcaning down that dark alley
there will be cries OF distress in that
cellar. Men will sleep and women Will