The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1901-12-06
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OLD KENESAW'S:
LAST BATTLE
The Story
of a Dying Veteran.
BY CHARLES b. YOUNGER.
"Old Kenesaw is dying!''

"Old Kenesaw is dyingp'
Had some careless attendant left a
door or window open that winter morn
ing and allowed the bitterly cold wind
to sweep through the corridors and
wards Of the great hospital, there
would have been no more shuddering
among the hundreds of patients than
was caused by this whisper passed
rapidly from cot to cot, from nurse to
nurse, speeding across to be dissemi-
mated among the hundreds of students
in the adjoining buildings.
u '1Old Kenesaw is dyingr'
The attending physician, summoned
hastily by the alarming symptoms, had
stopped but moment to hand his
snow covered cap and ulster to the re-
ceiving nurse. A glance into the con
torted, agonized face Of the venerable
patient, touch of the pulse, the brief
est study of the paroxysms that were
but the surface indications of the ter
rible torture within, and the doctor
turned away with a look Of utter de-
spair and helplessness.
4 NO hope, doctor?' The head nurse
had witnessed other death struggles,
and 1t is said that nurses become inur-
ed to such scenes. But the girls inter-
probation Of the Doctors manner left
her presenting picture Of AFFECT mis-
cry. Oh, dear, dear, to think that
kind Old Kenesaw must suffer sow
Through her wet eyes she looked at
the poor, wasted old body writing and
twisting upon the cot. ooh, doctor, if
You are quite sure he cannot recover,
Is there no way-can't you make the
end less painful?"
/. DR.. Blank had turned away from the
scene and was looking vacantly out of
the window. If he made no immediate
response to the nurses appeal, it was
because he was revolving the same per-
picking problem in his own mind AL
though he had grown gray in the hos
pital service, DR.. Blank was for the
first time face to face with most vio-
lent case of angina pectoris, but he
recognized it as hopeless beyond all
human means.
What could be done to ease Old
Kenesaw in losing struggle with
death? The battle could end but one
way, and it was tearing the very
heart from the victim and subjecting
him to the worst torture man can ex-
perience.
Aside from the means Of the dying
man the little room was quiet. The few
seconds that the doctor stood there
pom 1ering seemed an age to the nurses
and the internes, who first glanced in
sadness and terror at the patient, then
in appeal to the silent man at the win
dow. Presently the Doctors dark,
hopeless countenance changed, and
hope was diseerned in his quick com
tnand:
"Send for Ainsley. Take my horse
: and buggy and get him here quickly
\ as possible"
Then, as an inferno FASTENED through
the hall to carry out these instructions,
the sad news spread over the great
buildings whispered by nurse to nurse,
by patient to his neighbor in the next
cot:
'fOld Kenesaw is dyingw
Never was man more truly loved.
Many years before he had come to the
hospital suffering from old age and the
ailments contracted in the southern
swamps during four years service in
the civil war. Broken in health, with
out home or relative, depending upon
his scanty pension to hold strong soul
and shattered body together, he drift
ed ~into the free clinic and asked for
treatment. AS mo. 74'' he had first be-
come known to the nurses and in
ternes, but after he had related his
war experiences to them and had told
and retold with glistening eyes of his
greatest battle his title was changed
to Old Kenesaw Mountain and in time
to Old Kenesaw.
When Old Kenesaw enlisted with
the army of patients, it was thought
he would eventually be relieved and
discharged. After two months of good
care the old warrior was again fairly
comfortable but he evinced no desire
to depart from the hospital, and, in
fact, no one wanted him to go. He
had become sort of general factotum,
and his services were regarded as
well worth his bed and board.
Old patients and new internes.
nurses, medical students, the entire
hospital staff and even the visitors at
the institution came to know him ia
miliarly His slow, shutting step and
the CHEEKY click of his cane ON the
hardwood floors were as familiar as
the scheduled visits of the nurses and
always as welcome If not more so.
Old Kenesaw had access to every
nook and corner of the hospital. The
patients drew inspiration from his
kindly old face. and his stories Of
camp and battle served as u tonic.
To the children in the hospital Ken
esaw was the incarnation of all that
was good, kind and helpful. He was
their chum, their never falling friend.
He would creep to the cots of the lit
tie sufferers, chase away thoughts of
pain and bring smiles to their wan
faces with his inexhaustible fund Of
stories.
Once when a child, scaling the dizzy
heights between life and death, had
cried for some goldenrod it was of
record that Old Kenesaw had trudg-
ed eight miles to find large bunch Of
the flaming yellow flowers and placed
them where the child could 500 fl,on,