A True Story of Florence Nightingale.
WHEN the celebrated philanthropist Florence Nightingale was a little girl living in Derbyshire, England, everybody was struck with her thoughtfulness for people and animals. She even made friends with the shy squirrels. When persons were ill, she would help nurse them, saving nice things from her own meals for them. There lived near the village an old shepherd named Roger, who had a favorite sheep-dog called Cap. This dog was the old man's only companion, and helped him in looking after the flock by day and kept him company at night. Cap was a very sensible dog, and kept the sheep in such order that he saved his master a deal of trouble. One day Florence was riding out with a friend, and saw the shepherd giving the sheep their night feed; but Cap was not there, and the sheep knew it, for they were scampering about in all directions. Florence and her friend stopped to ask Roger why he was so sad, and what had become of his dog. "O," he replied, "Cap will never be of use to me; I'll have to hang him, poor fellow, as soon as I go home to-night." "Hang him!" said Florence. "O Roger! how wicked of you! What has old Cap done?" "He has done nothing," replied Roger, "but he will never be of any more use to me, and I cannot afford to keep him. One of the mischievous school-boys threw a stone at him yesterday, and broke one of his legs." And the old shepherd wiped away the tears that filled his eyes. "Poor Cap!" he said, "he was as knowing as a human being." "But are you sure his leg is broken?" asked Florence. "O yes, miss, it is broken sure enough; he has not put his foot to the ground since." "We will go and see poor Cap," said the gentleman. "I don't believe the leg is really broken. It would take a big stone and a hard blow to break the leg of a great dog like Cap." "O if we could cure him, how glad Roger would be!" exclaimed Florence. When they reached the cottage, the poor dog lay there on the bare, brick floor, his hair disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with anger at the intruders. But when the little girl called him "poor Cap" he grew pacified, and began to wag his short tail; then he crept from under the table and lay down at her feet. She took hold of his paws, patted his head, and talked to him while the gentleman examined his injured leg. It was badly swollen, and it hurt him very much to have it examined; but the dog knew it was meant kindly, and though he moaned and winced with pain, he licked the hands that were hurting him. "It's only a bad bruise; no bones are broken," said the gentleman; "rest is all Cap needs; he will soon be well again." "I'm so glad!" exclaimed Florence. "But can we do nothing for him? He seems in such pain." "Plenty of hot water to foment the part would both ease and help to cure him." "Well, then," said the little girl, "I will foment Cap's leg." Florence lighted the fire, tore up an old flannel petticoat into strips, which she wrung out in hot water and laid on the poor dog's bruise. It was not long before he began to feel the benefit of the application, and to show his gratitude in looks and in wagging his tail. On their way home they met the shepherd coming slowly along with a piece of rope in his hands.141 "O Roger!" cried Florence, "you are not to hang poor old Cap. We have found that his leg is not broken after all." "No, he will serve you yet," said the gentleman. "Well I am most glad to hear it," said the old man, "and many thanks to you for going to see him." The next morning Florence was up early to bathe Cap. On visiting the dog, she found the swelling much gone down. She bathed it again, and Cap was as grateful as before. Two or three days later, when Florence and her friend were riding together, they came up to Roger and his sheep. Cap was there, too, watching the sheep. When he heard the voice of the little girl, his tail wagged and his eyes sparkled. "Do look at that dog, miss," said the shepherd, "he's so pleased to hear your voice. But for you, I would have hanged the best dog I ever had in my life." This is quite a true story. It happened many years ago, and is now told with pleasure of that lady who in later years grew up to be the kind, brave woman who nursed so many soldiers through the Crimean war, and has done so many things for the poor and suffering wherever she could.—Youth's Temperance Banner.