The nuns themselves, in their clean white gowns, devoid of drapery or any ornamentation, are so kind and womanly that one’s heart goes out to them at once. Before I had known the dear old Mother Provincial an hour, I found myself telling her of all my woes and troubles, and, encouraged by her kindness, I felt better able, after such visits, to do battle with the world; for there is nothing so comforting as the genuine sympathy of one woman with another. She would give me an encouraging tap on the shoulder, and say, “Go on, dear; continue to do your best for those poor lepers, and we will pray for you; all the nuns will pray for the success of such a work as yours. It is so nice to see the young thoughtfully working for the sorely afflicted.” Mother Provincial not only encouraged me with words, but she got up a subscription among the nuns and sent me a sum of money for my leper fund. She did all this in her quiet, sweet way, knowing that I professed a different creed to that of her own; but she waived all prejudice, because she thought I was doing a good work. I have nothing but the pleasantest and most grateful recollections of the nuns; for I invariably found them the same kind friends, through good and evil report, all the time I was in Calcutta. They must have heard and read enough deprecatory remarks about me to have turned them entirely against me, had not they thoroughly believed in my sincerity; for interested persons, who did not believe that anyone would work in an honest cause when actuated only by motives of justice--we won’t say charity--wrote their views about me in the local papers, in which they tried to hold me up to derision. However, the public, knowing that I personally had nothing to gain, and that I could find no possible pleasure in going into the haunts of disease, other than that of aiding those who could in no way help themselves, gave me their support, and money was sent me from time to time to spend on comforts for the lepers. I think I have to thank the nuns for a great deal of the money that came to me; for these ladies possess unbounded influence among a large number of right-thinking persons, and they used it on behalf of the lepers, so that many rupees were sent to me through them. One day I caused no little surprise and amusement by asking Mother Mechtilda to come and take afternoon tea with me. It was from her I learnt that they never leave the convent except to go to another, nor do they walk in the public streets. I ventured to say that it was a pity such good women should shut themselves up when they might be doing work in the world among the poor and sick. “We are not,” they replied, “permitted by our Order to go out; we teach the young. There are nuns, sisters of charity, the Little Sisters of the Poor, and many other Orders, whose work takes them into the world. We teach and help to clothe poor children.”