One thought brings another. When, on the morning after my arrival, I
begged for milk and biscuit, they refused, and then brought a bowl of
common looking soup with black looking bakers' bread. I refused to eat
it; if it had been beef tea with soda biscuit in it, I would have taken
it myself. They did not live to coax crazy people. Mrs. Mills called in
her help, and it did not need many, I was so weak; they held me back,
and she stuffed the soup down my throat.

When I came here first, I told the nurse my name was Mary Huestis; that
was my maiden name; I hardly know why I prefer that to my sons' name,
for they are sons no mother need be ashamed of. My prayers for them have
always been, that they might be a benefit to their fellows; that they
grow to be good men; to be able to fill their places in the world as
useful members of society, not living entirely for themselves, but for
the good of others, an honor to themselves and a blessing to the world.
If we live well, we will not be afraid to die. "Perfect love casteth out
fear." I must write no more today.


March 24.--Two years ago today I was watching by the bedside of my dying
child. Driven from our home by the fire, I was tarrying for her to
complete her education in the city of Lowell, which is second to no city
in the world for its educational privileges. Free schools, with books
free to all its children, and excellent teachers. To Lowell schools and
to my darling child, I must here pay this tribute. The day after her
death, the principal of the school she attended addressed the school
with these words--"Clara Pengilly has attended this school two years,
and I have never heard a fault found with her; there has never been a
complaint brought to me by teacher or schoolmates concerning her." Her