vy hearts. People often spoke to the
convicts, so it caused no surprise when, on being invited to address
them, one of the ladies rose and said she would tell them a little
story; which announcement caused the younger listeners to pack up their
ears, and even the older ones to look interested; for any change in
their monotonous life was welcome.

The speaker was a middle-aged woman in black, with a sympathetic face,
eyes full of compassion, and a voice that seemed to warm the heart,
because of certain motherly tones in it. She reminded Dan of Mrs Jo, and
he listened intently to every word, feeling that each was meant for him,
because by chance, they came at the moment when he needed a softening
memory to break up the ice of despair which was blighting all the good
impulses of his nature.

It was a very simple little story, but it caught the men's attention at
once, being about two soldiers in a hospital during the late war,
both badly wounded in the right arm, and both anxious to save these
breadwinners and go home unmaimed. One was patient, docile, and
cheerfully obeyed orders, even when told that the arm must go. He
submitted and after much suffering recovered, grateful for life, though
he could fight no more. The other rebelled, would listen to no advice,
and having delayed too long, died a lingering death, bitterly regretting
his folly when it was too late. 'Now, as all stories should have a
little moral, let me tell you mine,' added the lady, with a smile, as
she looked at the row of young men before her, sadly wondering what
brought them there.

'This is a hospital for soldiers wounded in life's battle; here are sick
souls, weak wills, insane passions, blind consciences, all the ills that
come from broken laws, bringing their inevitable pain and punishment
with them, There is hope and help for every one, for God's mercy is
infinite and man's charity is great; but penitence and submission must
come before the cure is possible. Pay the forfeit manfully, for it is
just; but from the suffering and shame wring new strength for a nobler
life. The scar will remain, but it is better for a man to lose both arms
than his soul; and these hard years, instead of being lost, may be made
the most precious of your lives, if they teach you to rule yourselves. O
friends, try to outlive the bitter past, to wash the sin away, and begin
anew. If not for your own sakes, for that of the dear mothers, wives,
and children, who wait and