great trouble yet. When I went
out into the hall this morning, she was kneeling by the door; she laid
her cheek on the bare floor, praying for her sins to be forgiven,
murmuring something of those who had gone before. I cannot think she has
sinned; poor child! she has lost her health in some way; she has
transgressed some law of nature. I think it has been tight lacing that
caused some of the trouble, for she sat up on the floor when I invited
her to stand up for fear some one would open the door and walk over her,
and rubbed the calf of her leg, saying it was all numb. Anything too
tight causes pain and distress by interrupting the free circulation of
the blood. She is so pitiful and sad! How could Mrs. Mills speak so
unkindly to her, pushing her with her foot to make her rise up? She
treats them like wicked school-boys who have done something to torment
her and merit punishment. I cannot but pity Mrs. Mills, for this is an
uncomfortable position to fill, and if she has always obeyed her
Superintendent, she has done her duty, and deserves a retired allowance.
The younger nurses are all learning from her, and will grow
hard-hearted, for they think she is one to teach them; they come to her
for help in case of emergency, and they go all together, and are able to
conquer by main strength what might in most cases be done by a gentle
word. "A soft answer turneth away wrath;" I have known this all my life,
but I never felt it so forcibly as now.

There is a lady here from Westmoreland; her hair is cut short, and her
eyes are black and wild. The first time I spoke to her she struck me,
lightly, and I walked away; I knew she was crazy. After I had met her a
few times and found she was not dangerous, I ventured to sit down beside
her. She was lying on her couch in a room off the dining-room; she lay
on her back knitting, talking in a rambling way: "Do you know what kind
of a place this is? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you? I wish I was like
you." I smoothed her hair with my hand as I would a child. I thought,
perhaps, she had done some great wrong. She said she had killed her
mother. Often before, I had stood beside her, for I looked at her a
number of times before I ventured to sit by her. I had no recollection
of seeing her when I first came, till I found her in this room. I
suppose she was so violent they shut her in here to keep her from
striking or injuring any one. I could not discover the cause of her
trouble, but I comfo