Read Online Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 by Glimpses of Louisa (v2.1) - Free Book Online
Authors: Glimpses of Louisa (v2.1)
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decorate the graves of
those who died, to remember also those who still live to deserve our grateful
care.
II
I never expected to see Joe again; but, six months later, we did meet in a Washington hospital one winter's night. A train of ambulances had left their sad freight
at our door, and we were hurrying to get the poor fellows into much needed
beds, after a week of hunger, cold, and unavoidable neglect. All forms of pain
were in my ward that night, and all borne with the pathetic patience which was
a daily marvel to those who saw it.
Trying to bring order out of chaos, I was rushing up and down the narrow aisle
between the rows of rapidly filling beds, and, after brushing several times
against a pair of the largest and muddiest boots I ever saw, I paused at last
to inquire why they were impeding the passageway. I found they belonged to a
very tall man who seemed to be already asleep or dead, so white and still and
utterly worn out he looked as he lay there, without a coat, a great patch on
his forehead, and the right arm rudely bundled up. Stooping to cover him, I saw
that he was unconscious, and, whipping out my brandy-bottle and salts, soon
brought him round, for it was only exhaustion.
"Can you eat?" I asked, as he said, "Thanky, ma'am," after
a long draught of water and a dizzy stare.
"Eat! I'm starvin'!" he answered, with such a ravenous glance at a
fat nurse who happened to be passing, that I trembled for her, and hastened to
take a bowl of soup from her tray.
As I fed him, his gaunt, weather-beaten face had a familiar look; but so many
such faces had passed before me that winter, I did not recall this one till the
ward-master came to put up the cards with the new-comers' names above their
beds. My man seemed absorbed in his food; but I naturally glanced at the card,
and there was the name "Joseph Collins" to give me an additional
interest in my new patient.
"Why, Joe! is it really you?" I exclaimed,
pouring the last spoonful of soup down his throat so hastily that I choked him.
"All that's left of me. Wal, ain't this luck, now?" gasped Joe, as gratefully as if that hospital-cot
was a bed of roses.
"What is the matter? A wound in the head and arm?" I asked, feeling sure that no slight affliction had brought Joe there.
"Right arm gone. Shot off as slick as a whistle.
I tell you, it's a sing'lar kind of a feelin' to see a piece of your own body
go flyin' away, with no prospect of ever coming back again," said Joe,
trying to make light of one of the greatest misfortunes a man can suffer.
"That is bad, but it might have been worse. Keep up your spirits, Joe; and
we will soon have you fitted out with a new arm almost as good as new."
"I guess it won't do much lumberin', so that trade is done for. I s'pose
there's things left-handed fellers can do, and I must learn 'em as soon as
possible, since my fightin' days are over," and Joe looked at his one arm
with a sigh that was almost a groan, helplessness is such a trial to a manly
man,—and he was eminently so.
"What can I do to comfort you most, Joe? I'll send my good Ben to help you
to bed, and will be here myself when the surgeon goes his rounds. Is there
anything else that would make you more easy ?"
"If you could just drop a line to mother to let her know I'm alive, it
would be a sight of comfort to both of us. I guess I'm in for a long
those who died, to remember also those who still live to deserve our grateful
care.
II
I never expected to see Joe again; but, six months later, we did meet in a Washington hospital one winter's night. A train of ambulances had left their sad freight
at our door, and we were hurrying to get the poor fellows into much needed
beds, after a week of hunger, cold, and unavoidable neglect. All forms of pain
were in my ward that night, and all borne with the pathetic patience which was
a daily marvel to those who saw it.
Trying to bring order out of chaos, I was rushing up and down the narrow aisle
between the rows of rapidly filling beds, and, after brushing several times
against a pair of the largest and muddiest boots I ever saw, I paused at last
to inquire why they were impeding the passageway. I found they belonged to a
very tall man who seemed to be already asleep or dead, so white and still and
utterly worn out he looked as he lay there, without a coat, a great patch on
his forehead, and the right arm rudely bundled up. Stooping to cover him, I saw
that he was unconscious, and, whipping out my brandy-bottle and salts, soon
brought him round, for it was only exhaustion.
"Can you eat?" I asked, as he said, "Thanky, ma'am," after
a long draught of water and a dizzy stare.
"Eat! I'm starvin'!" he answered, with such a ravenous glance at a
fat nurse who happened to be passing, that I trembled for her, and hastened to
take a bowl of soup from her tray.
As I fed him, his gaunt, weather-beaten face had a familiar look; but so many
such faces had passed before me that winter, I did not recall this one till the
ward-master came to put up the cards with the new-comers' names above their
beds. My man seemed absorbed in his food; but I naturally glanced at the card,
and there was the name "Joseph Collins" to give me an additional
interest in my new patient.
"Why, Joe! is it really you?" I exclaimed,
pouring the last spoonful of soup down his throat so hastily that I choked him.
"All that's left of me. Wal, ain't this luck, now?" gasped Joe, as gratefully as if that hospital-cot
was a bed of roses.
"What is the matter? A wound in the head and arm?" I asked, feeling sure that no slight affliction had brought Joe there.
"Right arm gone. Shot off as slick as a whistle.
I tell you, it's a sing'lar kind of a feelin' to see a piece of your own body
go flyin' away, with no prospect of ever coming back again," said Joe,
trying to make light of one of the greatest misfortunes a man can suffer.
"That is bad, but it might have been worse. Keep up your spirits, Joe; and
we will soon have you fitted out with a new arm almost as good as new."
"I guess it won't do much lumberin', so that trade is done for. I s'pose
there's things left-handed fellers can do, and I must learn 'em as soon as
possible, since my fightin' days are over," and Joe looked at his one arm
with a sigh that was almost a groan, helplessness is such a trial to a manly
man,—and he was eminently so.
"What can I do to comfort you most, Joe? I'll send my good Ben to help you
to bed, and will be here myself when the surgeon goes his rounds. Is there
anything else that would make you more easy ?"
"If you could just drop a line to mother to let her know I'm alive, it
would be a sight of comfort to both of us. I guess I'm in for a long
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