Diary Written in the Provincial Lunatic Asylum | Page 3

that, it would be salts and senna for me. At noon we have plenty of meat and vegetables, indifferently cooked, but we don't require food suitable for men working out of doors. We need something to tempt the appetite a little.
No matter what I say, how earnestly I plead, he believes Dr. Steeves in preference to me. If I should die here, he will still believe Dr. Steeves, who looks so well they cannot think he would do so great a wrong. When I first began to realize that I must stay here all winter, I begged the Doctor to take me to his table, or change his baker; "I cannot live on such fare as you give us here." His reply was, "I don't keep a boarding house." Who does keep this boarding house? Is there any justice on earth or under heaven? Will this thing always be allowed to go on? Sometimes I almost sink in despair. One consolation is left me--some day death will unlock those prison doors, and my freed spirit will go forth rejoicing in its liberty.
There is a dear girl here whose presence has helped to pass the time more pleasantly, and yet I am more anxious on her account. How can her mother leave her so long in such care as this? Ah, they cannot know how she is faring; she often says, "I used to have nice cake at home, and could make it, too." She has been teaching school, has over-worked, had a fever, lost her reason, and came here last June. She is well enough to go home. I fear if they leave her here much longer she will never recover her spirits. She is afraid of Mrs. Mills, and dare not ask for any favor. Mrs. Mills is vexed if she finds her in my room, and does not like to see us talking. I suppose she fears we will compare notes to her disadvantage, or detrimental to the rules of the house. I think it is against the rules of this house that we should be indulged in any of the comforts of life.
March.--At last I have my trunk: why it should have been detained so long I cannot conceive. I feel rich in the possession of the little needful articles it contains.
I enquired of Dr. Steeves, some time ago, if he had not in the Asylum a supply of necessary articles for our use, telling him I wanted a paper of pins very much. He said they were for the indigent patients, so I got none. My son, Tom, gave me some small silver some weeks ago, but I was no better off. No one would do me an errand outside. I begged Mrs. Mills at different times to buy me some pins, and to buy me an extra quart of milk. I was so hungry for milk, but she said it was against the rules of the house. She gives me now a glass nearly full at bed time, with one soda biscuit. This is the only luxury we have here; some others get the same. It is because I have tried to make her think we are her children, left in her care. I said to her, "'Feed my lambs,' you are our Shepherd;" and she is if she only knew it. I have quoted the words of Him whose example we should all follow: "Do good unto others." I am watching over those poor lambs now, to see how they are tended, and I will tell the Commissioners in whose care the Asylum is left by the Province. The people of New Brunswick suppose they attend to it. The Commissioners have placed it in the care of Dr. Steeves, and they believe him quite capable of conducting it properly. Is this the way it should be done? I don't think so.
I observed Miss Fowler today holding her hand to her eye, which is looking inflamed; she is blind; a well-educated, delicate, gentle-woman. I take more than usual interest in her for that reason. I often sit beside her and she tells me of her mother, and wants me to go home with her to number one. She does not seem a lunatic, and she is neglected. I tied her eye up with my own handkerchief, and a wet rag on it. I did not mean to offend, I had done so before and it was not observed. Mrs. Mills came along just as I had done it; she jerked it off in anger, and threw it on the floor. I said to her, "That is not a Christian act," but she pays no heed; perhaps her morning work makes her feel cross.
I come back to my own room and write again; what shall I