“I have nothing else to do, and will think it no trouble!”

The nurse, who did the dressing, was very gentle, and there was no more pain; but I saw that the other leg was amputated below the knee, and this was a double reason why he should be tenderly cared for.  So I took the nurse aside, and asked when the wounds were to be dressed again.  He said in the morning, and promised to wait until I came to help.  Next morning I was so much afraid of being late that I would not wait for the street cars to begin running, but walked.  The guard objected to admitting me, as it was not time for visitors, but I explained and he let me pass.  I must not go through the wards at that hour, so went around and came in by the door near which he lay.  What was my surprise to find that not only were his wounds dressed, but that all his clothing and bed had been changed, and everything about him made as white and neat and square as if he were a corpse, which he more resembled than a living man.  Oh, what a tribute of agony he had paid to the demon of appearance!  We all pay heavy taxes to other people’s eyes; but on none is the levy quite so onerous as on the patients of a model hospital!  I saw that he breathed and slept, and knew his time was short; but sought the head nurse, and asked why he had not waited for me; he hesitated, stammered, blushed and said: 

“Why, the fact is, sister, he has another wound that it would not be pleasant for you to see.”

“Do you mean that that man has a groin wound in addition to all else?”

“Yes, sister! yes! and I thought—­”

“No matter what you thought, you have tortured him to save your mock-modesty and mine.  You could have dressed that other wound, covered him, and let me hold the stump.  You saw what relief it gave him yesterday.  How could you—­how dare you torture him?”

“Well, sister, I have been in hospitals with sisters a great deal, and they never help to dress wounds.  I thought you would not get leave to come.  Would not like to.”

“I am not a sister, I am a mother; and that man had suffered enough.  Oh, how dared you? how dared you to do such a thing?” I wrung my hands, and he trembled like a leaf, and said.

“It was wrong, but I did not know.  I never saw a sister before—­”

“I tell you I am no sister, and I cannot think whatever your sisters are good for.”

He promised to let me help him whenever it would save pain, and I returned to the dying man.  The sun shone and birds sang.  He stirred, opened his eyes, smiled to see me, and said.

“It is a lovely morning, and I will soon be gone.”

I said, “Yes; the winter of your life is past; for you the reign of sorrow is over and gone; the spring time appears on the earth, and the time for the singing of birds has come; your immortal summer is close at hand; Christ, who loveth us, and has suffered for us, has prepared mansions of rest, for those who love him, and you are going soon.”