The age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1897-1902, 1899-11-12
AeJ1,oea

whose hunger has been appeased, whose
pain has been lessened by the deeds of the
charitable children of the earth. The
other day an appeal was made for the
Sisters of Charity They are noble ex-
ponents of the better lessons of the better
life. They are striving, as other good
women are striving, to take something
from the vast sum of human suffering.
They are amongst the elected angels of
ltliis world, these good Sisters of Charity.
1Aey have borne many heavy burdens, and
have yet heavier ones to bear. Turning
aside from the ordinary pleasures of the
world, denying themselves the natural
hopes and aspirations of woman, placing
beyond eheir own reach the nameless
joys reserved for the daughters of
the earth, they elect ito devote their lives
to doing good unto others. In their pure
souls they represent the noblest side of
human life, and by their self-abnegation
the most beautiful aspect of Gods love and
mercy. In their presence all the world I'M
covers as in the presence of the blessed.
They teach the dirinest lesson men and wo-
men can know!
All the great iron fence of the railway sta
ton last midnight little group stood wait
ing-an old woman and an old man, and a
man young in years. They were waiting
for train The young man was going
away westward somewhere His father
and mother, their shoulders bent with long
years of burden-bearing, had come to say
their poor little goodbye. The three stood
there waiting, waiting, waiting. 1t was
pitiful 1t was pathetic beyond all power
of language to portray. The train arrived
There was a passionate parting al the gate.
The train passed on its way. Up and down,
up and down the long floor of the station
the old man and woman walked for a space,
his feeble right arm pressing her old brown
shawl to her old bent figure; she weeping
the while, the old heart breaking. He
sought to soothe her, his own old heart
breaking, too. The old bonnet and the old
hat touched each other, as the old hearts
did, and the good souls walked up and
down there in the chill of the night Now
and then he lifted his left sleeve to his
eyes, the right arm pressing the waist it
first pressed young more than forty years
before. She, dear old heart, made little eff
fort to dry her eyes, faded by years of
tears The tenderness of it all was infinite
The night grew chillier, and they passed in
to await the dawn through the night of
their grief. If the world had half as much
love and tenderness and sweetness that
bent old mother, charity would not need to
seek gifts for its cause.
So, while we are holding open our doors
to the stranger, let us open our hearts to
the cause of charity. In the day of our
plenty, our gladness, our merry-making,
our feasts and festivities, let us remember
them that are without plenty, without the
means of feasting and without incentive to
nerry-making. Let us turn a thought 10
them that are afflicted. Fortunate in their
misfortune are they that have found aid
and comfort in hospitals. The hospitals
will make good use of whatever we may
give to them in charitys name, and giving
to them is the truest of all charitable spirit.
All, my beloved! the blessedest thing in
this world is to comfort the afflicted.
Hearken to their cry, and you take bond
of fate, and the angels ring your name
through the courts of heaven.
THE MURMURER.