There is often great want of tact in managing the whims and caprices of the sick. Many expect them to be as reasonable in their notions and desires and feelings as if they were well. It is unwarrantable and unjust to demand this of a weakened and beclouded mind, and agitated nerves. Trifles light as air affect the sick strongly. The very grasshopper is a burden to them. It is with the mind of a sick man as it is with his senses. Noise troubles him—even the motion of a rocking-chair, perhaps, or the swinging of a foot, disturbs his sight, and through that sense disturbs his mind. The darling child, whom he delights, when he is well, to see running about playing his little pranks, must be taken out of the room, because he makes his father’s head to whirl and to ache. Thus easily is he disturbed through the senses. Just so is it with his mind—it is as easily disturbed, and circumstances, which would scarcely excite a passing thought in health, now agitate and depress him. Disappointments, that ordinarily would be felt but for a moment and slightly, he can hardly brook now. Every mother has often seen how easily her child is grieved by little things, when mind as well as body is prostrated by sickness. And she does not commonly get out of patience with it for its seemingly unreasonable griefs, but soothes and quiets them. It would be well if the attendants and friends of the sick had more of that patience and forbearance, which are prompted by a mother’s tenderness. The sick often contract a strong feeling of dislike towards some things, and sometimes towards individuals. They may regret it, and see that it is unfounded and foolish, and yet not be able to get rid of it. Some make the sick dislike them by their very kindness, because it is so officious and pains-taking. There is a tact in the good and judicious nurse which dictates just what to do and how much, and many of the attendants on the sick are sadly deficient in this.