I have not had my trunk yet; sure the boys did not leave me here without
my trunk. Perhaps they do not wish me to go in sight of people from the
city, for fear they will recognize me, and I should make my complaints
known to them. I have entreated them to give me my trunk so many times
in vain that I have given it up. I did ask Mrs. Mills, and she says,
"Ask Mrs. Murphy, she has charge of the trunk room." I asked her; she
says she will see, and she will bring me whatever I need that is in it.
She puts me off with a soft answer, until I begin to think there is
nothing done for any one here, only what they cannot avoid. It is a
self-running establishment, I guess, for no one seems to know how or
when to do anything I wish to have done, whatever they may do for
others.


February.--The weather is cold. I have more to occupy my time now. I
have learned how to let off the cold air from the radiators, and then we
get more heat. I do it when no one sees me. I shall do all I can to make
myself comfortable, and they all share it. When I arise in the morning,
my first thought is to look up the hall to see if there is fire in the
grate--the one little grate in that large hall, to give warmth and
comfort to us poor prisoners. If the fire is there, I feel pleased; I go
up as soon as the sweeping is done, and try to feel at home. I tell the
nurse I will tend the fire, if she will have the coal left beside the
grate. Sometimes they allow it willingly, and I enjoy it. I brush up the
hearth, and make it look cheerful and homelike as possible. I draw up
the huge, uncomfortable seats to form a circle; they stand round until I
get there; they are happy to sit with me, but they don't know enough to
draw up a seat for themselves. I have found pleasure in this; it cheers
my heart. There is no situation in life, however unpleasant it may be,
but has some bright places in it. I love to cheat Mrs. Mills; I watch my