MY young reader, were you ever in a hospital? Did you ever walk through the long rooms, called wards², among the rows of neat beds, with the white curtains before each couch, that the sufferer within may be entirely³ hidden from the view of even her nearest neighbors? Did you ever see the hospital surgeons, on what the patients call "student's day," when they go from one ward¹ to another; a train of young surgeons following behind, visiting each couch in succession, and enquiring⁴ into the symptoms of each poor sufferer?

 

In one of the large hospitals belonging to the city of B —, there one morning lay a young girl, apparently⁵ about twenty years of age. Her name was Ruth Martin. She had been very sick, and had had a severe operation performed; but she was now better, though not the slightest trace of color had yet visited her cheeks or lips. Lying constantly in bed, as she had been obliged to do for several weeks, she had become exceedingly restless, and the night seemed very long. It was now near five o'clock, and would soon be day. She lay for some time amusing herself by watching those of her neighbors who came within her line of vision. Most of them were asleep, while the night watchers or nurses, who sit up regularly every night and sleep through the day, were leaning drowsily⁶ back in their rocking chairs.

 

The curtains were all drawn⁷ back from the beds, and presently Ruth saw Miss Alden, the head nurse of her ward, step softly from a side room and open the door into the next apartment, for the better circulation of the air.

 

There seemed some unusual movement in the adjoining room, but she could not see what it was. "Could Alick be dying?" she asked herself, her pulse beating wildly.

 

"Miss Stiles," she called softly, "I'm so thirsty I can't sleep."

 

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