rted her all I could, and she has always been
friendly with me since, and listened to my words as if I were her
mother. She has been here a long time. Last Friday--bathing day--two
young, strong nurses were trying to take her from her room to the
bath-room (I suppose she was unwilling to be washed, for I have noticed
when I saw her in that room on the couch, she was not clean as she
should be--her clothes did not have a good air about them). The nurses
were using force, and she struggled against it. They used the means they
often use; I suppose that is their surest method of conquering the
obstinate spirit that will rise up to defend itself in any child or
woman. She was made more violent by her hair being pulled; one nurse had
her hands, and the other caught her by her hair, which is just long
enough to hold by. They made her walk. I was walking near them when I
saw one seize her by the hair; she tried to bite her on the arm. I
started forward, and laid my hand on her arm, with--"Don't, my poor
child, don't do so; be gentle with her, girls, and she will go." She
looked at me, and her face softened; that angry spirit melted within
her, and they went on to the bath-room. Shortly after that I met her
looking fresh and nice; she was in Mrs. Mills' room, in her
rocking-chair. Sometimes I look in there to see if that chair is empty,
to have a rock in it myself. I think it better for her health to knit in
the rocking-chair than to lay down and knit or read either, so I leave
her there. Perhaps she has read too much and injured her brain; if so, I
would not let her read so much.

March 20.--Poor Mrs. Mills has served thirty-two years here, and has
become hardened as one will to any situation or surroundings. She is too
old a woman, and her temper has been too much tried. She is tidy, and
works well for so old a woman, but she is not fit for a nurse. If she
were a British soldier, and had served her country so long, she would be
entitled to a pension.

Poor Miss Short! Last week I saw her lying on the floor nearly under the
bed, her dress torn, her hair disheveled. How can her friends leave her
so long! Some ladies came to see her a short time ago, and as they left
the hall I heard her call them to take her with them. If they knew all
as I do, they would not leave her here another day.

There is a Miss Snow here from St. Stephens. I remember distinctly when
I first came, she raved all the time. I did not dare to look in her