The bystander. [volume] (Des Moines, Iowa) 1916-1922, 1918-10-18
G. Willard burden.

/ j g
Yea, though walk through the val
ley of the shadow Of death, will fear
no evil; for thou art with me; -
A dry gurgling sound, gasp, and an
other soul had passed into the great be-
yond- Another soul added to the great
harvest which the plague has reaped.
Up and down the long rows of white
cots which are crowded into hospital
wards, doctors and nurses quietly but
swiftly glide, as they administer sooth-
ing potions to their khaki clad pa
TENTS Here nurse stops to mop out
a lad e scorching mouth. Here she pulls
up the covers on q boy, who in his de-
lidium has thrown bare his limbs. Al
ways, she has the same smile. A smile
that is akin to that Of angels.
And how could she be otherwise, when
the soldiers themselves are 20 very, very
sbravef They never whine, they never
fret! They think only 1of getting up
and getting back into the big game.
have talked with many patients
whose faces were dyed 4 deep purple.
with the poisonous pus from their.
lungs; whose hands were icy, and in
whose eyes the vacant stare Of death
doomed up, and their reply to my How
are youf'' was "Just finel'' This was
very often. so family uttered that one
feared lest the words would die on the
lips.
It is this heroic optimism of the suf-
fering ones that inspires the nurses and
doctors to work eighteen and twenty
hours shift; that make the Red Cross,
"Y'' and other welfare workers eager
for the opportunity of serving the men
in the humblest capacity; and so often
is it this courage which snatches the
youths from the very jaws Of death.
Down in one corner of the crowded
ward there was a hush, quickly fol-
lowed by the inhuman cry Of Ratchet.
A nurse hurriedly rushed to the cot, re-
moved the little mask from over the
mouth of the departed one, and pulled
the spotless white sheet over the life
less form. A long stretcher was brought
in by two men dressed in long white
robes, little white caps, and each wear
ing little gauze mask. Very silently
they depart with the body amid the
screams of the little mother for her boy.
N The father stood as though he were
without the feelings of men. His was
the sorrow Of the innermost recesses Of
the soul. Too deep was his grief buried
to be heard by mortals. Only his God
knew how his soul was tried.
| assisted him to a seat and drew up
80 closely that he need not have spoken
above whisper. Out Of the depths Of
his soul came the story.
The boy was the Youngest Of FIVE sons,
all Of whom were somewhere fighting to
make the world safe place in which to
live. He. had always been the pride of
the family. 1t had been his pleasure to
please ma and pa. The farm was
,dreary, but not too much so if dad liked
it. chad taught the little village Sun
day school. He had often pleaded with
his older brothers to be less worldly.
Now he had gone. flushed was the mus
ical voice. Stayed were those willing
limbs. Only in memory he remained
And to think, = walled the mother,
she could have come home for few
weeks, but he wouldn u; he was so anx-
ious to 60 over and get into the fight :,
Together we knelt beside the cot and
prayed sIOT tHe SOUL DIS ~ WlHgeu 1tS
flight toward Gods hereafter. How I
wished that could have bound the fam
lily ties so shortly broken.
AS led the sorrowing parents from
the ward, I thought how very, very sad,
that so many of those, who yesterday
were the flower of American youth, to-
day lie withered, faded, and gone.
More Than Enough Is Too Much.
To maintain health, mature man or
xCnman !, enda iIist eI10,,Oh Fond m rano;r