Akron daily Democrat. [volume] (Akron, Ohio) 1892-1902, 1899-09-15

nleu lIle tight Ol SuuIdSe, Sue dl-
ways did vote and always would
vote by her influence, and that her
chief desire ought to be that she
should have grace rightly TO rule in the
| dominion which she has already won.
! began an enumeration of some of her
rights. and now l resume the subject.
in the first place. woman has the
special and the superlative right of
blessing and comforting the sick. What
land. what street, what house has not
felt the smitings of disease? Tens of
thousands of sick bedsl What shall we
do with them? Shall man, with his
rough hand and clumsy foot. go STUN
bling around the sicfroom. trying to
soothe the distracted nerves and allevi-
ate the pains of the distressed patient? :?
The young man at college may scott at
the idea of being under maternal inf1u
ences, but at the first blast of typhoid
fever on his cheek he says, Where is
motherf" Walter Scott wrote partly in
satire and partly in compliment
Oh, woman, in our hours OF ease,
Uncertain. coy and hare to please,
When pain and anguish wiring the brow.
miristesing angel thou!
l 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, press
ing his hands on his temples and cry
ing out. "Oh, my headl my headr'
And they said, "Carry him to his
mother And then the record is, ''He
sat on her knees till noon and then
died. +"
A Ministering Angel.
1t is an awful thing to be i'll away
from home in strange hotel. once in
awhile men coming in to look at you,
holding their hand over their mouth
for fear they will catch the contagion.
How roughly they turn you in bedl
How loudly they talkl How you long
for the ministries of homel I know
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,
Il am willing to die. but not alone. -
But the pulses fiuttered. the eyes closed
and the heart stopped. The express
trains met in the midnight, wife and
daughters going westward, lifeless re-
mains of husband and father coming
eastward. Oh. it was 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 thatf 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 musketry, men cried
to the hosts. Forward, marchl" men
hurled their battalions ON the sharp
edges of the enemy, crying, "Charge,
charged" but woman scraped the lint,
woman administered the cordials, wom-
an watched by the dying couch, woman
wrote the last message to the home cir
cle woman wept at the solitary burial,
attended by herself and four men with
a spade We greeted the generals 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; 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 filed the air with their
"hurrah r'-of Mrs Hodge, who came
from Chicago with blankets and with
pillows, until the men shouted: ''Three
cheers fer the Christian commissionl
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
well; tell her we shall meet again in
the good land; tell her to bear my loss
like the Christian wife of Christian |
soldier and of Mrs Shelton. into
whose face the convalescent soldier |
looked and said, Your grapes and CO.
logne 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 snitten home camps. |
Men did their work with shot and shell |
and carbine and howitzer; women did |
their work with socks and slippers and
bandages and warm drinks and Scrip |
5ure texts and gentle stroking of the |
not temples and stories of that land
where they nevtr have any pain. Men
melt down over the wounded and said,
'On which side did you fights" Wom-
IN knelt down over the wounded and
aid: "Where are you hurt2 What nice
hing can make for you to eatP What
makes you cryf' Tonight while we
nen are sound asleep in our beds there
will be light in yonder loft; there !
will be groaning down that dark alley; !
here will be cries Of distress in Chat
cellar. Men will eleep, and women will
watch,
succor the Destitute.
Again, Woman has q epeciatriahtt to