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 bed-room. I must write something of myself today. I can look back and see plainly all my journey here. The day may come when I shall be laid away in the grave, and my boys--the dear boys I have loved so well--will look over my trunk and find this manuscript; they will then perhaps believe I am not crazy. I know Dr. Steeves tells them I am a lunatic yet. They will weep over this, as they think of the mother they have left here to die among strangers. It would be happiness to die surrounded by my friends, to be able to tell them they have only to live well that they may die well. To be true to ourselves and to our fellows, is all the good we need. That I have always striven to do, does now my spirit feed. I have been so near the grave, the border land of heaven. I heard angels' voices; they talked with me even as they did with John on the Isle of Patmos, when they said to him, "Worship God who sent me." I was very much alone, engaged in writing a book on the laws of health. My desire to write increased; I became so absorbed with my work I forgot to eat, and, after a day or two, I seemed to think I had done some wrong. The angel voices whispered me that I must fast and pray; I know I had plenty of food in my closet, but I don't remember eating any more. I fasted eight days, and felt comfortable and happy most of the time. I sang to myself, "O death, where is thy sting, where is thy victory, boasting grave." I wept for my own sins, and wished to die, the world to save. I was trying to perform some ancient right or vow, one day, and my sons came in. I ordered them away, but they would not go. They said they would bring me home, for Lewis, who was living with me near Boston, sent for my son, T. M. Pengilly, who is proprietor of a drug store in St. John. I suppose he discovered I was fasting, and saw me failing so fast he telegraphed to Tom to come to his assistance. I remember I kissed him when he came, asked him what he came for, and bade him leave me. I know now how unreasonable that was, for we had no other room but Lewis' bed-room, and in it there was no fire. We had rented rooms, as Lewis took his meals at a boarding-house near. Poor boys, they went in and out; it seemed to me they did not eat or sleep for some days; I thought they were as crazy as I was in the cars.