could never hear the hearty thanksgiving of those she had comforted and
healed, she nevertheless, to the end of her days, ceased not from caring
for the poor folks in the forest like a very mother.

My Ann was never made for such work, inasmuch as she could never endure
to see blood or wounds; yet was it in this tending of the sick that I had
reason to mark and understand how strong was the spirit of this frail,
slender flower.

Since a certain army surgeon, by name Haberlein, had departed this life,
there was no leech at the Forest lodge, but my aunt and the chaplain, a
man of few words but well trained in good works and a right pious servant
of the Lord, were disciples of Galen, and the leech from Nuremberg came
forth once a week, on each Tuesday; and since the death of Doctor Paul
Rieter, of whom I have made mention, it was his successor Master
Ulsenius. His duty it was to attend on the sick mistress, and on any
other sick folks if they needed it; and then it was our part to wait on
the leech, and my aunt would diligently instruct us in the right way to
use healing drugs, or bandages.

The first time we were bidden to a woman who gathered berries, who had
been stung in the toe by an adder; and when I set to work to wash the
wound, as my aunt had taught me, Ann turned as white as a linen cloth.
And whereas I saw that she was nigh swooning I would not have her help;
but she gave her help nevertheless, though she held her breath and half
turned away her face. And thus she ever did with sores; but she ever
paid the penalty of the violence she did herself. As it fell Master
Ulsenius came to the Forest one day when my aunt's waiting-woman had
fared forth on a pilgrimage to Vierzelmheiligen, and my uncle likewise
being out of the way, the leech called us to him to lend him a helping