They will not allow me to go home, and I must write thesethings down for fear I forget. It will help to pass the time away. It isvery hard to endure this prison life, and know that my sons think meinsane when I am not.How unkind Mrs. Mills is today; does she think this sort of treatment isfor the good of our health? I begged for milk today, and she can't spareme any; she has not enough for all the old women, she says. I don't wishto deprive any one of that which they require, but have I not a right toall I require to feed me and make me well? All I do need is goodnourishing food, and I know better than any one else can what I requireto build me up and make me as I was before I met with this strangechange of condition. I remember telling the Doctor, on his first visitto my room, that I only needed biscuit and milk and beef tea to make mewell. He rose to his feet and said, "I know better than any other man."That was all I heard him say, and he walked out, leaving me without aword of sympathy, or a promise that I should have anything. I say tomyself (as I always talk aloud to myself when not well), "You don't knowany more than this old woman does." I take tea with Mrs. Mills; I don'tlike to look at those patients who look so wretched.I can't bear to see myself in the glass, I am so wasted--so miserable.My poor boys, no wonder you look so sad, to see your mother looking sobadly, and be compelled to leave her here alone among strangers who knownothing about her past life. They don't seem to have any respect for me.If I were the most miserable woman in the city of St. John, I would beentitled to better treatment at the hands of those who are paid by theProvince to make us as comfortable as they can, by keeping us warmed andfed, as poor feeble invalids should be kept.December 20.--I have made myself quite happy this week, thinking of whatChristmas may bring to many childish hearts, and how I once tried tomake my own dear boys happy at Christmas time. I helped poor Maggy tomake artificial flowers for a wreath she herself had made of cedar. Shewas making it for some friend in the Asylum. She never goes out; shewishes to go sometimes, but Mrs. Mills scolds her a little, then sheworks on and says no more about it. Poor Maggy! there is nothing ailingher but a little too much temper. She does all the dining-roomwork--washes dishes and many other things.January.--They have had a festival; it was made, I suppose, to benefitsome one here; I don't know whom. It certainly did not benefit me any;no one invited me to go to the church where the festival was held, butDr. Crookshank, the Assistant Physician, looked at me very kindly andsaid, "Do come, Mrs. Pengilly, you may as well come." I looked at mydress (it is grey flannel, and I have had no other to change since I