The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1908-06-04
SURELY WELL DONE
cRIPPLE's SPLENDID USE or HIS
ONE TALENT.
From Bed Of Suffering Message Of
Light and Hope Went For.h to
Cheer the Weak and AZ
Unfortunate.


the man whose story 1t relates may
have gone to his reward. Already he
has added few more painful months
to those that had gone before. That
he can live another year, or even half
that time, seems now all but impossi-
BILE; and almost any morning may
witness for him the daybreak Of the
life of which 1t is written that there
shall be no more pain.
When the terrible accident was over,
and they uncovered his mangled body,
so little was left In it that they
thought him dead. And when the sur
geons had finished their work there
remained but the physical wreck Of
man.
Both legs were gone; the left arm
was missing, and had taken with it
the greater part of the collar bone. OF
the right hand only finger and the
thumb remained. There was only
enough left Of the man that had been
to suffer and remember.
But he still possessed brilliant
mind stored with the rich fruitage OF a
college training and enriched by
travel in every part Of the world! And
1t was all wasted, wasted, wasted!
There was nothing he could do but
to remain a helpless sufferer.
So he thought as he sat by the win
dow in the Home for Incurables and
looked out on a world Of which he
had ceased to be part. Before him
lay his Bible and he read the parable
of the talents, and reflected bitterly
that he had now not one talent to
bury; he himself was as good as
buried, and his talents, which had
been many, were buried already.
An old lady wheeled her chair be-
side his, and read letter which had
been sent her. 1t was from a stran-
ger, but 1t did her good.
He was interested, and asked her
about 1t, and learned that there was
kind Of organization that furnished
addresses Of invalids and shut-in folks
to persons who were willing to write
them cheerful letters. She had sent
her name as one who would be glad Of
an occasional letter, and this unknown
correspondent wrote her regularly,
and the letters comforted her.
A sudden thought came to him, To
receive letters would be little com
fort to him, but why should he not
write them? But to whom? Could
there be any persons SO shut in as he
who could be cheered by his letters?
Possibly the men in prison were "a
trife more to be pitied; yet even
they had hope Of release, and he had
none. But 1t was worth trying.
So he wrote to the secretary of
the organization for the names Of
some of the prisoners. He was in
formed that his letters could not be
answered; the rules Of the prison
would not permit, But he undertook
the one-sided correspondence.
Twice a week he wrote, and the let
tiers taxed his strength to It's limit.
But into those letters he put his
whole soul, all his experience, all his
faith, all his bright wit, all his Chris
tian optimism.
1t is hard to continue writing when
writing costs labor and pain, and
especially hard when there is no re-
ply. There were times when he grew
discouraged, and was tempted to give
it up. But it was his one remaining
talent, and he resolved to use 1t as
long as It lasted.
At length he got letter. 1t was
very short, and written on the station
cry of the prison by the officer whose
duty 1t was to read the letters Of the
convicts. All 1t said was this:
please write on as good paper as
you can afford, for your letters are
passed from cell to cell till they lit
orally drop to pieces. Youths Com
panion.