in a wild, swift race over rotten or heaving ice, or in a night in the driving snow, than in running the Strathcona through a nor'east gale. Once, when Doctor Grenfell was wintering at St. Anthony, there came in great haste from Conch, a point sixty miles distant, a komatik with an urgent summons to the bedside of a man who lay dying of hemorrhage. And while the doctor was preparing for this journey, a second komatik from another place arrived with a message. Come at once," it was. "My little boy has broken his thigh." The doctor chose to visit the lad first. At ten o'clock that night he was at the bedside. It had been a dark nightblack dark: with the road dangerous, the dogs uncontrollable, the physician in great haste. The doctor thought many a time that there would be "more than one broken limb" by the time of his arrival. But there was no misadventure; and he found the lad lying on a settle, in great pain, wondering why he must suffer so. "Every minute or two," says the doctor, "there would be a jerk, a flash of pain, and a cry to his father, who was holding him all the time." The doctor hastened "to get the chloroform mask over the boy's face" - he is a sympathetic man; glad always to ease pain. At one o'clock in the morning the broken bone was set and the doctor had had a cup of tea; whereupon, he retired to a bed on the floor and a few hours' "watch below." At daylight, when he was up and about to depart, the little patient had awakened and was merrily calling to the doctor's dog. "He was as merry as a cricket," said the doctor, "when I bade him good-by." It was haste away to Conch over the ice and snow, for the most of the time on the ice of the sea, in order that the man who lay dying there might be saved. But there was another interruption. When the dog-train reached the coast, there was a man waiting to halt it; the news of the doctor's probable coming had spread. “I've a fresh team o' dogs, sir," said he, "t' take you t the island. There's a man there, an' he's wonderful sick." Would the doctor go? Yes, he would go! But he had no sooner reached that point of the mainland whence he was bound across a fine stretch of ice to the island than he was again stopped. It was a young man this time, whose mother lay ill, with no other Protestant family living within fifty miles. Would the doctor help her? Yes, the doctor would; and did. And when he was about to be on his way again "Could you bear word," said the woman, "t' Mister Elliot t' come bury my boy? He said he'd come, sir; but my little lad has been lying dead, here, since January." It was then early in March. Mr. Elliot was a Protestant fisherman who was accustomed to bury the Protestant dead of that district. Yes, the doctor would bear word to him. Having promised this, he set out to visit the sick man on the island; for him also he did what he could. Off again toward Conch, now with fresh teams which had been provided by the friends of the man who lay dying of hemorrhage. By the way a man brought his little son for examination and treatment"a lad of three years," says the doctor, "a bright, healthy, coming fisherman, light-haired and blue-eyed, a true Celt." "What's the matter with him?" the physician asked. "He's a club foot, sir," was the answer. And so it turned out: the lad had a club foot. He was fond of telling his mother that he had a right foot and a wrong one. "The wrong one, mama," said he, "is no good." He was to be a cripple for life, utterly disabled — fishing does not admit of club feet. But the doctor made arrangements for the child's transportation to the St. Anthony Hospital, where he could be cured; and then hurried on. For five days the doctor labored in Conch, healing many of the folk, helping more; and at the end of that period the man who had suffered the hemorrhage was so far restored that with new dogs the doctor set out for Canada Bay, still traveling southward. There, as he says, "we had many interesting cases." One of these involved an operation - "opening a knee-joint and removing a loose body" — with the result that a fisherman who had long been crippled was made quite well again. Then there came a second call from Conch. Seventeen men had come for the physician, willing to haul the komatik themselves, if no dogs were to be had. To this call the doctor immediately responded; and having treated patients at Conch and by the way, he set out upon the return journey to St. Anthony, fearing that his absence had already been too long. And he had not gone far on the way before he fell in with another komatik, provided with a box, in which lay an old woman bound to St. Anthony Hospital, in the care of her sons, to have her foot amputated. Crossing Hare Bay, the doctor had a slight mishap, rather amusing, he thought. "One of my dogs fell through the ice," said he. "There was a biting nor'west wind blowing, and the temperature was ten degrees below zero. When we were one mile from the land, I got off to run and try the ice. It suddenly gave way, and in I fell. It did not take me long to get out, for I have had some little experience, and the best advice sounds odd: it is 'keep cool.' But the nearest house being at least ten miles away, it meant almost one's life to have no dry clothing. Fortunately, I had. "The driver at once galloped the dogs back to the woods we had left, and I had as hard a mile's running as ever I had; for my clothing was growing to resemble the armor of an ancient knight more and more every yard; and though in my youth I was accustomed to break the ice to bathe, if necessary, I never tried running a race in a coat of mail. By the time I arrived at the trees and got out of the wind, my driver had a rubber poncho spread on the snow under a snug spruce thicket; and I was soon dry and a great deal warmer than before." At St. Anthony the woman's foot was amputated; and in two days the patient was talking of "getting up." Meantime a komatik had arrived in haste from a point on the northwest coast, a settlement one hundred and twenty miles distant. The doctor was needed there; and the doctor went! This brief story of a winter's journey may not serve to indicate the hardship of the life the doctor leads: he has small regard for that; but it may faintly inform the reader of the character of the work he does, and of the will with which he does it. One brief journey! The visitation of but sixty miles of coast! Add to this the numerous journeys of that winter, and the various summer voyages of the Strathcona; remember that the doctor visits the folk of two thousand miles every year, often twice a year: then multiply by ten- for the mission has been in existence for ten years and you may reach some faint idea of the good done by this man. But without knowing the desolate land without seeing the starved bodies of the children without hearing the cries of distress it is impossible to realize the blessing his devotion has brought to the coast. -Adapted. CLASS ACTIVITIES 1. Point out the chief differences between the work of Doctor Grenfell and that of a doctor you know. 2. How many patients did Doctor Grenfell treat on his journey? 3. Volunteer work. Let three members of the class read Doctor Grenfell's Adrift on an Ice Pan and in relay give a special report to the class. These pupils should compare Doctor Grenfell's experience on this occasion with the "slight mishap" described in this selection. ADDITIONAL READING. "Heroes of To-day: the Deep-Sea Doctor," M. R. Parkman, in St. Nicholas, 44: 404-409. 3. THE RED CROSS SPIRIT SPEAKS JOHN H. FINLEY Tutti fratelli all are brothers! These were the words of Henri Dunant and his little band of volunteer nurses as they did what they could for the wounded and dying soldiers lying on the battlefield of Solferino. Impressed by the suffering, Dunant wrote a pamphlet describing the need for immediate relief work at such times. Five years later (1864), the representatives of a number of nations signed the "Red Cross Treaty." In this treaty they agreed to protect the relief societies of one another in war as well as in peace. As a tribute to Switzerland, where they held their meeting, they adopted as the symbol of these societies a red cross on a white field, the colors of the Swiss flag reversed. To-day there is hardly a nation in the world which does not have its Red Cross society. The Red Cross responds to human need in any part of the world whenever there is a great disaster, be it war, flood, fire, famine, tornado, or earthquake. Is the spirit of the organization and its leaders shown in this poem? Wherever war, with its red woes, Or flood, or fire, or famine goes, If earth in any quarter quakes I kneel behind the soldier's trench, I walk 'mid shambles' smear and stench, I bear the stretcher and I bend O'er Fritz and Pierre and Jack to mend I go wherever men may dare, |