11 Chapter 11. Surgical Bandage Makers.

Chapter 11.

Surgical Bandage Makers. Is it to visit some hospital we are going today? and are we to pass from bed to bed seeking to cheer the sufferers by a few whispered words about the love of God in the gift of His Son, see some sad sights, and listen to still sadder stories?

No; we have been invited to take a peep into another workroom, and we accept the invitation with real pleasure, for two of our own girls are among the workers, and Lizzie and Mary would feel almost neglected if we passed them by without a smile or word of encouragement. The room in which the young people work, though smaller than some we have visited, has two large windows, and one side is almost taken up by a cupboard with glass doors.

What a stock of bandages, lint, splints, and other things of which we do not know even the names or uses are on its shelves. The forewoman, who has a pleasant face and a kind manner, explains by telling us that many of the oddly-shaped belts, etc., we are looking at will be returned in a few days to a maker of surgical instruments, who sends them to their firm to be lined, etc., a part of the work that requires not only great care and neatness but skilled fingers, as the slightest roughness or crease would give pain to the wearer and so render what was intended to be a help and comfort worse than useless.

We wonder where all the bandages, chest protectors, etc., will be wanted or used, and are told that some of them are intended for the children’s ward in one of the London hospitals.

We remember a visit paid not so very long ago to a hospital in which all the patients were children, some of them dear little babies of not more than a few months old, and wish we could take all our young friends for an afternoon visit to one of its pretty wards.

Some of the tiny patients were asleep in dainty swing cots, vases of fresh, bright flowers were on the table, and a canary in a gilded cage sang his sweetest song at one of the open windows.

Ah! but we saw many things besides birds and flowers during that visit. There were little children with pale, pain-worn faces; children who would never walk again or join in the merry games of their playmates.

One small boy, who was run over nearly a year ago and so badly hurt that the doctors were obliged to cut off both his legs, gets about the ward quite quickly on his crutches and we notice a fair-haired little girl who looks very pale and ill. Her name is Jessie, and the nurse tells us that a fall when she was quite a baby caused such severe injury to the spine that Jessie has never walked and is always obliged to lie quite still in her white cot. She is a gentle, patient child and very fond of singing hymns, and there is reason to hope that her young heart has been touched and won by a Saviour’s love.

We are shewn more bandages and told they are going to be sent to far-off India, where a missionary, who is also a doctor, will be very glad of them for use in a small hospital he has opened, where any of the natives who are ill can go and have advice and medicine without having to pay for it. The hospital is open all the year round, and day after day its small waiting-room is crowded by dark-faced people who speak a strange language.

Many of them worship idols, and come to the mission hospital, glad to get a little medicine for their sick bodies and with little thought of their never-dying souls. But before the doctor sees one of his patients the doors are closed, and for a few moments every one is very quiet, for they are listening to Bible words as some one reads one of the Lord’s parables or miracles of healing, and then they hear — some, perhaps, for the first time — of the one true God, the Creator of heaven and earth, and of His love in sending His only Son to die upon the cross for sinners. But this wonderful story, so wonderful because it is all true, would be only half told if Mr. S. did not go on to speak of the Lord Jesus as a risen, living Saviour and of the new place where He now is.

Mabel says, in almost a whisper, "He is in heaven."

Yes; and if we turn for a moment to one of the letters written by Peter, we shall read: "who is gone into heaven, and is on the right hand of God." (1 Peter 3:22.)