which the precious document paid was to the Deaconess House.
The sisters are much consulted by the poorer women on household matters, as they are acknowledged to be thoroughly practical in all affairs relating to domestic economy. They retain a great hold over their patients, who return whenever they have an opportunity to thank them for all their care.
In the House there are smaller rooms for patients of a superior class; these are constantly occupied; clerks in government offices often take advantage of this accommodation, and even young officers have been nursed in the Deaconess House. The sum paid in these cases is larger than what is paid in the wards, but it is very moderate.
The affectionate regard of these sisters for the sick, is only rivalled by their continued interest in the departed.
The expression—“our dear dead”—is constantly to be heard. On the occasion of a death in the little establishment, I spoke of it with sorrow and regret. Sister Caroline listened and then said quietly:
“It is a thing to rejoice over, not to grieve at; he is gone to his rest.”
The sisters strive as much as possible to banish all gloom in connection with death and burial; the chapel is hung with flowers, as if for some happy ceremony.
The Superiors in the different houses are elected by the majority of votes, and retain their position for four years. This system has a very beneficial effect, as it effectually checks any undue exercise of power, which is so apt to spring up in conventual systems—absolute government—where such checks are unknown.
A Sister Superior, after her election, pays a lengthened visit to some Deaconess House in the neighbourhood for the purpose of acquiring information and experience for her new duties; and in this way a community of interests is kept up, and a friendly interchange of ideas, which is very beneficial to the whole community.
There were other visitors at times during my stay; for instance, the Sisters’ Hospital was visited by a meeting of medical men, who were making a tour of inspection through the hospitals, and who paid many compliments to the arrangements of the place. One of them, a Russian gentleman, who had served in the army of his country against the English at Bomarsund, was so much struck with what he saw of the Deaconesses and their work, that I heard him express a hope of being able to establish similar houses in Russia.
My short visit to the Institution made me most desirous to see this system adopted in our own country. We have many excellent and energetic women who require a more extensive sphere of action than is afforded to them in a small family circle, and yet whose sensitive natures and retiring dispositions prevent them from bringing themselves forward in individual action: their various characters would find suitable work and constant occupation in an establishment of this kind, free from useless austerities and unfettered by oppressive observances.
ONE WAY OF LOOKING AT IT.
I thought you always knew it well
(Although indeed you never said so)—
I thought you knew I dared not tell,
And that was why you toss’d your head so:
For I have often heard you say
You hate to see a fellow sighing,
To hear him stammer all the day,
And hint mysteriously at dying.
And if I have adored you so,
I thought you knew I couldn’t help it;
I could no more escape my woe
Than Joseph could his empty well-pit.
It wasn’t fair of you at all:
You moved so light and play’d so neatly,
And set your foot upon the ball,
And croquet’d me, I know, completely!
Why did you let me look such things,
And whisper o’er our melting ices,
If converse with you only brings
This most objectionable crisis?
I wish I had not loved, for then
Perhaps you would not be offended,
Nor fling me back my heart again,
Nor tell me thus that all is ended!
Oh yes! Sir John’s a charming catch—
His stud, his balance at his banker’s,
Unlike himself, are hard to match;
And I have but one horse at Spanker’s!
He will not house you in some den,
Served by a footman single-handed—
He has such store of maids and men
As your position, love, demanded:
And so, I quite approve your choice;
I won’t regret my wasted wooing;
I’ll think your sweet soprano voice
Has warn’d me from my own undoing:
And yet I know, that when too late—
Just as the spectre came to Priam—
You’ll learn to rue your splendid fate,
And wish yourself as free as I am.
Arthur J. Munby.
UP THE MOSELLE.
PART I.
The following inscription is to be seen on the Red House Hotel, the old Council House of Trêves:—
Ante Romam Treviris stetit annis mille trecentis
Perstet, et æternâ pace fruatur. Amen.
