Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1914-03-12

Marina.
Ma always allows me to do as !
please. said Martha. Tell her /
may not be back for several days.
Pve had experience with sick peo-
pie. and / know that . journey in
an ambulance, over miles Of rough
road. and all the delay consequent
on the proceeding of charity, may
kill this poor man. Your house is
quite insulated. The kitchen and
kitchen chamber are scarcely q part
of the house; and if Jim will help
me, I'll do my part. 1t is nothing
TO what ] did at the hospital.
Oh, dear, said Aunt Emma, /
knew you went to the hospital after
the war, but wounds ant catching;
and being engaged 70 William Price,
suppose you felt romantic about
soldiers; but smallpox and a stray
gler is q very differant sort of
thing.
Martha's eyes filed with tears.
j loved all soldiers for willie's
sake, she said; that is very true.
But it is partly because of my loss
that ! feel it my duty to go now. /
never knew whether any woman was
witt, my Willie, when he died. nor
how he died, nor where. If some
one could tell me that they nursed
him well in his last hours. my heart
would be lighter. And this man
who rs suffering and within my
reach, shall not be neglected. If
he dies, some other woman may
know that the best was done for her
deadi and If he lives, may help to
save him for wife and children, or
poor old mother. And Martha hur-
ried ont of the room and returned
in her hat and shawl.
The war between the North and
South had not long been over; and
Martha, whose betrothed husband
was among the missing when the
troops returned to that quiet place
in the Granite State, had been an
active nurse in the hospital for
several months. Aunt Emma knew
that she might as well hope to
keep the tide from coming in, an to
keep Martha from what she thought
her duty, and said no more.
Martha knows what TO do. She
iis sensible gal, was al the mother
said, when she came in from the
pea patch with her apron full of
peas. She'll manage finely, and /
am glad to have you and your folks
here, sister Emma.
So Aunt Emma telegraped for her
husband and son, and with many
self reproaches awaited the result of
what she called 'Martha's redicu.
lous caper.'
The straggler was n man with a
full beard that seemed to cover half
his face, and he was in q state of
high delirium when Martha reached
the house. As for his features,
they were swollen and spotted
almost out of human likeness, and
his shaggy clothes were very coarse
and scanty.
He lay in what was known as the
odd hands bed room, and with him
were the doctor and black Jim.
You're brave girl, said the doc
tor, when Martha told him of her
intention; and I've no doubt yor III
be quite safe. I'll do my part, Miss
Martha, and Jim will he.p us.
Sartain sure, Massa, said Jim.
The long journey would be death
to him, said the doctor. He's aw-
fully worn out now. Perh Fps you'll
save some poor woman's husband
for her my dear.
Then the black man, obeying the
doctors instructions, clothed the
poor delirious patient in clean linen
which Martha had brought with her:
and the old clothes were burnt, and
a trinket which had been tied about
the strangers neck safely put away
by black Jim's honest hands. And
Martha Bruce took up her weary
task, knowing exactly what lay be-
fore her. She had left q happy
home and pleasant surroundings, t.
become sort of enchanted princess
in 4 castle full of horror to all
others. She had taken upon her
self band which made friends
fear her. Not one of her compan-
ions would have approached those
infected wallis for any considera-
tiop; nor would she have desired il
Tim was devoted; but the poor oh
ject on the bed, so ter.ibl. to lool
upon, had NO gratitude for her
Deleriously he raved and gabbled.
regarding her as his enemy more
than half the time. The disease
had closed his eyes almost from the
4 E~os .~I L..