saw one seize her by the hair; she tried to bite her on the arm. I
started forward, and laid my hand on her arm, with--"Don't, my poor
child, don't do so; be gentle with her, girls, and she will go." She
looked at me, and her face softened; that angry spirit melted within
her, and they went on to the bath-room. Shortly after that I met her
looking fresh and nice; she was in Mrs. Mills' room, in her
rocking-chair. Sometimes I look in there to see if that chair is empty,
to have a rock in it myself. I think it better for her health to knit in
the rocking-chair than to lay down and knit or read either, so I leave
her there. Perhaps she has read too much and injured her brain; if so, I
would not let her read so much.


March 20.--Poor Mrs. Mills has served thirty-two years here, and has
become hardened as one will to any situation or surroundings. She is too
old a woman, and her temper has been too much tried. She is tidy, and
works well for so old a woman, but she is not fit for a nurse. If she
were a British soldier, and had served her country so long, she would be
entitled to a pension.

Poor Miss Short! Last week I saw her lying on the floor nearly under the
bed, her dress torn, her hair disheveled. How can her friends leave her
so long! Some ladies came to see her a short time ago, and as they left
the hall I heard her call them to take her with them. If they knew all
as I do, they would not leave her here another day.

There is a Miss Snow here from St. Stephens. I remember distinctly when
I first came, she raved all the time. I did not dare to look in her
bed-room.