Virgin Saints and MartyrsBaring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
Religion
Virgin Saints and Martyrs
Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
Christian women saints; Martyrs
This is written in too much of the “special correspondent” style to be
pleasant; nevertheless it describes what actually took place.
Mr. Samuel Welsh says: “I remember one evening I was in the hospital
when a poor man who had been dreadfully crushed in a pit was brought in.
One of his legs was so fearfully injured that it was thought it would be
necessary to amputate it. After examining the patient, the doctor came
to me in the committee-room—one door of which opened into the passage
leading to the wards, and another into the hall in the domestic portion
of the building. After telling me about the patient who had just been
brought in, he said, ‘Do you know Sister Dora is very ill? So ill,’ he
continued, ‘that I question if she will pull through this time.’ I
naturally inquired what she was suffering from, and in reply the doctor
said, ‘She will not take care of herself, and is suffering from
blood-poison.’ He left me, and I was just trying to solve the problem——
‘What shall be done? or how shall her place be supplied if she be taken
from us by death?’ when I saw a spectral-like figure gliding gently and
almost noiselessly through the room from the domestic entrance to the
door leading to the wards. The figure was rather indistinct, for it was
nearly dark; and as I gazed at the receding form, I said, ‘Sister, is it
you?’ ‘Whist!’ she said, and glided through the doorway into the wards.
In a short time she returned, and I said to her, ‘Sister, the doctor has
just been telling me how ill you are—how is it you are here?’ ‘Ah!’
replied she, ‘it is true I am very ill; but I heard the surgeons talking
about amputating that poor fellow’s limb, and I wanted to see whether or
no there was a possibility of saving it, and I believe there is; and,
knowing that, I shall rest better.’ So saying, she glided as noiselessly
out of the room as when she entered.
“On her recovery—which was retarded by her neglecting herself to attend
to others—she called me to the hall-door of the hospital, and asked me
if I thought it was going to rain. I told her I did not think it would
rain for some hours. She then told me to go and order a cab to be ready
at the hospital in half an hour. I tried to persuade her not to venture
out so soon; but it was no use—she went; and many a time I wondered
where she went to.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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