He had brought to me a boy of seventeen
very ill of dysentery. For days it seemed that he must die. Dr. Gore
and I watched him and nursed him as if he had been very near and dear.
A slight improvement showed itself at last, and of course his craving
for food was insatiate. As this was a special ward, the nurses had
been forbidden to admit visitors without a permit, and no stranger was
ever allowed to feed the patients except when some particularly
nourishing and suitable food was brought, when I used to take a great
delight in the mutual pleasure of patient and visitor, hardly knowing
which was more happy, the giver or receiver. Our sick boy continually
craved and talked about some "apple _turnovers_," such as his mother
used to make, but of course was denied. One day, during my absence, an
old lady gained access to the ward, and when she heard the boy's
desire for "turn-overs" promised him some. The next day she found an
opportunity to keep her promise. At midnight, Dr. Gore and I having
been hastily summoned, met at the bedside of the poor fellow, who was
in a state of collapse, and died before morning. Dr. Gore was so
overcome that he actually wept.
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