wretched to think of her.

Poor Katy Dugan's friends came one day. I watched my chance and told one
of them to let her mother know she was getting worse and was not well
treated. I had many heart-aches for that girl; I scarcely know why. They
must have seen she looked worse; her dress of flannel, trimmed with
satin of the same color, which looked so nice when she came, was filthy
with spots of gruel and milk they had been forcing her to eat. This day,
I remember, was worse than common days of trouble. I had been excited by
seeing one of the most inoffensive inmates pushed and spoken to very
roughly, without having done any wrong. They attempted to comb that
poor girl's hair; she will not submit, begs and cries to go down there.
I go to the bath-room door to beg them to be gentle with her. Mrs. Mills
slammed the door in my face. She is vexed at any expression of sympathy.
Again I hear that pitiful cry, and I go up the hall to see what the
trouble is. They had taken her in a room to hold her on the floor, by
those heavy, strong nurses sitting on her arms and feet, while they
force her to eat. I return, for I can't endure the sight. I met Mrs.
Mills, with a large spoon, going to stuff her as she did me. (I was not
dyspeptic; I had fasted and would have eaten if they had given me milk,
as I requested.) She was angry at me again; she ordered me to my room,
and threatened to lock me in. What have I done to merit such treatment?
How can I endure this any longer!


April 3.--Yesterday was election day of the Aldermen of the city of St.
John. Dr. Steeves came in this morning and congratulated me very
pleasantly that my son was elected Alderman. I thanked him and said I
was not at all surprised, for he was very popular in his ward; always
kind and courteous to every one, he had made many friends. He must know