The waves of my wrath break upon Miss Lessing for allowing herself to
be imposed upon, but she is as calm and serene as the Great Buddha of
Kamakura.

My special grievance this morning is cooked tomatoes and baby organs.
Our cook has just discovered cooked tomatoes, and they seem to fill
some longfelt want in his soul. In spite of protest, he serves them to
us for breakfast, tiffin and dinner, and the household sits with
injured countenance, and silently holds me responsible. As for the
nine and one wind bags that begin their wheezing and squeaking before
breakfast, my thoughts are unfit for publication! This morning I was
awakened by the strains "Shall we meet beyond the River?" Well if we
do, the keys will fly that's all there is about it! Once in a while
they side-track it to "Oh! to be nothing, nothing!" That is where I
fully agree and if they would only give me a chance I would grant
their desire in less time than it takes to write it. I am sure my
Hades will be a hard seat in a lonesome corner where I must listen to
baby organs all day and live on a perpetual diet of cooked tomatoes.

To-day they are bringing in the wounded soldiers from Liaoyang, and I
try to keep away from the windows so I will not see them. Those bright
strong boys that left here such a little while ago, are coming back on
stretchers, crippled and disfigured for life.

Yesterday while taking a walk, I saw about two hundred men, right off
the transport, waiting for the doctors and nurses to come. Men whose
clothes had not been changed for weeks, ragged, bloody and soiled
beyond conception. Wounded, tired, sick, with almost every trace of
the human gone out of their faces, they sat or lay on the ground