“WHAT nice talks we are having, Aunt Fanny, and you help us to understand our texts so well, we shall be sure to remember what you tell us.”
Aunt Fanny kissed Hilda's bright face as she answered, "I think, dear, I enjoy our half-hours in the play-room as much as yourself, or Wilfrid; but remember, Hilda, we must not forget our need of the teaching of God's Holy Spirit, that we may rightly understand the word of God.”
“I wonder what you are going to tell us about our text to-day, aunt Fanny," Wilfrid said, after a short silence; "I do not think I quite understand it, but I think it means God loves and takes care of little children am I right, aunt Fanny?”
“Yes, Wilfrid; that is, at least, part of its meaning, and one way in which He puts the desire to feed the Savior's lambs into the hearts of His people.
“I think you and Hilda will be pleased to hear about a visit I once paid to a Cottage Hospital, in which all the patients were small boys and girls.”
“Oh, do tell us all you can remember about the dear little children who were there when you went," Hilda said, as she nestled closely up to aunt Fanny.
“It is several years since I was a visitor at the Cottage Hospital for Sick Children, Hilda, and any of the little patients I chatted with on that pleasant summer's day who are living now must be almost young men and women. I think I had better begin by telling you something about the building.
“It was only an old-fashioned house with low white washed walls, and a pleasant garden in front. Its windows were not very large, but they had neat white curtains, and there was a bright, cheerful look about the whole place that seemed in itself almost a welcome.
“But I have not told you where the Cottage Hospital was. Far away from the noise and smoke of great cities, among the green fields and pretty lanes of Kent. It must have seemed almost like a new world to some of the poor children whose homes were in crowded streets, to find themselves among so many beautiful flowers, or to listen to the calls of the cuckoo or the cawing of the rooks among the high trees of the grand old park very near the hospital.
“A friend went with me on my visit. As we crossed the garden, we noticed the front door stood open, so we entered, and found ourselves in a small hall, bright with flowers and rich in wall texts.
“A pleasant-looking nurse, whose white cap and apron seemed the very perfection of neatness, came forward to meet us, saying with a smile, ‘The afternoon is so fine and warm that most of our little patients are hay-making in farmer Day's field just at the end of the garden. You will only find a few who are very sick indoors today. But perhaps you would like to see the wards, then we can go to the hay-field.'
“So we thanked our new friend for permission to view the hospital, and followed her upstairs into such a cheerful, pretty room —the boys' ward. Eight tiny white beds were ranged round its walls. We felt it must have been the hand of a friend that had arranged text cards and scripture prints just in the right places to be seen and remembered by the boys who slept in those little beds.
“The recess near each window was almost filled by a wire stand bright with roses, geraniums, and other flowering plants that grow well in pots; while at the far end of the room a cupboard with glass doors displayed quite a collection of toys. A model farm-yard was very pretty to look at, but the nurse told us that a small chest of carpenter's tools and a printing press that could be set up on the ward table, were far greater favorites with her young charges.
“But were all the boys enjoying a good time in the hay-field?
“No, one bed was occupied, and we soon saw two large dark eyes were fixed on our movements, and that a very wistful look on the poor thin face out of which those strange deep set eyes looked, said as plainly as words could have spoken, ‘Do come here and talk to me, I am just a little dull all alone.'
“So we crossed over to the corner where he lay, and soon made friends with Archie Parsons. He was not at all shy, and quite willing to tell us his story. He said he could only just remember his father, as he had died when Archie was only three years old, leaving his widowed mother to provide for five children, of whom only one was old enough to go to work.
“Poor Mrs. Parsons must have found it very hard at first to earn money enough to pay her rent, and buy food for her little family. But she kept on trying, and the secret of her strength was told in Archie's simple words, ‘Mother used to get us all to kneel down with her, and then she would ask the Lord to send her some work, and He always did.'
“And so things went on in that humble home till Archie was taken ill. His mother, who lived in London, took him to a hospital there. After a few weeks, one of the doctors who himself loved the Lord Jesus Christ, and had taken a great interest in the sick boy, offered to send him to the Cottage Hospital at S., as good food and country air were, he thought, much needed in Archie's case.
“‘Do you think you will soon get better? ' we asked.
“‘I don't know,' was his reply, but a glad light broke over his thin pale face as he added, 'God knows, so you see I don't need to trouble. If I get well I shall soon be old enough to go to work, and I should like to help mother; but if I die, I shall go to heaven, and be with Jesus, for I know He died for me.'
“But as the nurse was waiting to show us the girls' and babies' ward, after giving Archie a little book of true stories and pretty pictures, we said good-bye to him and passed on. Two little girls, each propped up by pillows in their cot, seemed quite pleased when asked to show us their work. Annie, the elder of the two, was making a ball out of odds and ends of bright-colored wool, which, when finished, she told me she was going to give to a very little girl, like herself, an in-patient.
“But what was Jessie so busy about?”
“‘It is a secret, a real secret,' Jessie said almost in a whisper; ‘but Annie knows, and you will not tell, will you?' the sick child asked eagerly.
“Quite satisfied by an assurance we might be trusted, Jessie took us into her confidence, and explained she was working a bookmark, with a Bible verse on it, and hoped to get it done in time to make a little present to nurse Kate, whose birthday was only a day or two later.
“Annie and Jessie were both fond of singing, and Annie took a small hymn book from under the pillow and showed us her favorite hymn. It began with
“‘I will sing for Jesus,
With His blood He bought me,
And all along my pilgrim way,
His loving hand has brought me.'
"Then we followed the nurse into the babies' ward, and heard from her how much suffering some of even the very tiny ones had known, heard too how much had been done by God's blessing on care and kindness, to bring back health to some of the little sufferers.
“But I expect Wilfrid thinks we were a long time in getting to the hay-field.
“It was a pretty sight that met our eyes in the field; twelve happy children, each one forgetting (for a time at least) his or her pain and weariness, while they enjoyed a romp among the new-mown hay.
“Though more than one of the boys walked with crutches, and some of the girls had very white, thin faces, all seemed happy, and several voices asked us to tell them a story, so we sat down on a heap of sweet-smelling hay, and the children gathered round us to hear that ‘sweet story of old'—how the Good Shepherd, the Lord Jesus, once took up young children in His arms and blessed them.
“And very glad and thankful we were to find that some of our listeners knew and loved Him as their own precious Savior.
“But as the ringing of a bell summoned the children indoors to their tea, we gave each a text card and said goodbye to the Cottage Hospital and its inmates.”
“Thank you, aunt Fanny, we have been so interested. How I wish I was grown up; how delightful it must be to nurse poor sick children," Hilda said, as she kissed aunt Fanny, who only smiled and said, "Have a little patience, dear, and don't forget how many deeds of kindness even a little girl may do.”