Children's Hospital, London,
November 1891.

I know it is a long time since my last letter to you, but really the days are so full of work there seems to be no peace for letters; and at night one is so weary that, after a wrestle to obtain a bath, one feels fit for nothing but bed. And when I get to bed I feel obliged to take my anatomy and physiology books and do a little study, as the residents are very good about giving us lectures, and I should hate not to do decently in the exams.

I think when I last wrote we had just closed the medical ward (whose Sister had had the honour of beginning my hospital education), and after a few hours off duty I was sent up to a surgical ward on the top floor, next door to the theatre.

I went up rather in fear and trembling, as it was noted for being the hardest ward in the hospital—as the nurses were responsible for the theatre as well—and I didn't see how I could squeeze more work into the days than I had been doing on the medical side. But I received a nice welcome from the sister, and soon found that she was one of the best. She didn't wait for us to do things wrong, and then scold us; but she took pains to show us the best way to do them, and then woe betide those who didn't do their best!

I shall always remember my second morning up there, when she said, "Nurse, your bathroom looks very smart and nice." It was the first time a Sister had given me a word of praise, and from that day I didn't mind how hard I worked to please her. There was a different atmosphere about that ward, and I soon felt better in it. The children, too, were a more cheery set. Some of them were very ill; but we did not get the poor little "wasting" babies, and it was very seldom we had a child who minded a noise, so that the boys (at certain hours of the day) could be allowed to sing all the popular songs of the day; and they were a very merry crew. Many people think it must be very depressing to see so many sick children; but, as a matter of fact, the children have very little pain—or, at any rate, only for a very short time—and many of them are enjoying a better time than they have had in their lives before. They are kept clean and warm, and have plenty of good food and plenty of toys to play with, and people who understand them when they have a pain, even when they can't explain where it is.

There have been many changes since I came here. Several nurses who came after I did have already left, and one has gone away ill. I had been in the surgical ward only a fortnight when I was unlucky enough to pick up influenza, and was sent to bed, with another nurse, in a small quarantine-room up above the measles ward. They were rather suspicious as to whether we had scarlet fever, as there was still some in the hospital; so no one was supposed to visit us except the home sister. Her visits were few and far between. Poor thing, she was stout, and the stairs were many! We both felt pretty bad with high temperatures, and should have come off badly for attention if it had not been for the "measles nurse," who had only two convalescent children, and she used to break the rules and come up to look after us. One day she had run up with an offering of buttered toast, when we heard a door open downstairs, and felt that the Matron was coming. Nurse vanished into our little kitchen-pantry; but there was no escape from that without passing our wide-open door, and, besides, the Matron was sure to call upon the measles ward on her way downstairs. The buttered toast was stowed away under the bed-clothes, and we were trying to be calm and answer Matron's enquiries as to our health, when we heard a rattling of the hand-lift on which our food was sent up from the kitchen, and we realised that nurse had determined to crawl into that, and so descend to her post of duty. With much alarm we heard the lift go down, and trembled lest the unaccustomed weight should cause it to go down with a run. Matron must have thought us very distrait; but we pleaded severe headaches—a plea that was true enough—and she soon went away, "hoping we should shortly be fit for duty again." We were very thankful when nurse appeared to report her safety, with nothing worse than a crushed cap and a crumpled apron, which had been severely commented upon by the Matron.

They were short of nurses, so as soon as I could get about I went on duty again, and had a nice welcome back to my ward. But it happened to be very heavy just then with several small babies, and two of them had hare-lips that had been operated upon, and it was most important that they should not be allowed to cry at all. So one evening I was sitting in the ward cleaning some instruments that had been used in the theatre for a nasty case of mastoid abscess, and one of these babies began to whimper. I jumped up to subdue it, and in doing so I had the bad luck to prick my thumb. The baby soon settled down again, and then Sister came in and cleaned and dressed my thumb; but in a few days I was in for a badly poisoned hand, and it had to be opened in several places by the house surgeon. He wanted me to be off duty, and out-of-doors as much as possible; so Sister arranged to give me some extra off-duty time, and was awfully kind in doing part of my work for me. But when she told Matron about it, Matron said, "Nurse has been off duty over a week with influenza. If she has to go off again, she had better go home and stop there, as she is not strong enough for the work." But Sister didn't want me to go, and fortunately the ward was getting lighter, and I could keep the babies quiet even with my arm in a sling; so I did what I could, and was sent into the kitchen when the visiting surgeon went round, lest he should order me away. The house surgeon was furious with the Matron about it, but he looked after me well, and though my arm was very painful for a fortnight, and allowed me very little sleep, it soon improved. But my thumb is still stiff and unbendable, and the house surgeon is afraid it will always be so, as he had to cut into it so deeply.

I must tell you about a quaint child we had in about that time. She was a little Irish girl called Kathleen, with a mop of red hair and a pretty little face, but with very crossed eyes. Kathleen was five years old, but had never walked, as her legs were badly deformed; but she got about at a great pace on the floor in a style of her own invention. You never quite knew where you were with Kathleen. She had a very sharp temper; but she was devoted to Sister, and was obedient to me. But any directions given to her as to her behaviour by other nurses were received with scorn and entirely ignored; and if Sister and I happened to be off duty together, on our return we generally had to remonstrate with the child for some piece of naughtiness, and then she would soon be sobbing and penitent.

One day I was off in the afternoon, and when tea-time came Kathleen was missing. They searched everywhere for her; and Matron, who happened to pass, joined in the search. Eventually she was found shut up in the Sisters' dining hall, very much engaged with the food-cupboard. The butter had all gone, so had most of the sugar, some of the biscuits, and, when discovered, she was just drinking up the vinegar with relish. Matron remarked, "A good toffee mixture!" And then she spent half-an-hour trying to make the child say she was sorry, but without success; so she smacked her, and sent her to bed! On my return, of course, I had an account of Kathleen's misdoings, and thought it better to take no notice of her. All the evening as I did my work the little white-faced thing sat up in her cot watching me go up and down the ward, with her poor crooked eyes quite dry; but when the children were all settled for the night and the lights turned down, I went to her, and she flung her arms round my neck and sobbed out, "I am sorry, and I won't do it never no more. But I wasn't sorry to that woman, and I don't care if she does smack me; but I shall tell my mother when I go home." Then I lifted her out of her cot to warm her toes by the fire, and after a long talk I extracted a promise that she would tell Matron she was sorry next day; and in a very few minutes she was fast asleep.

I expect that I shall be moved from this ward very soon, and I shall be very sorry. The work is hard and fast, but Sister works as hard as we do; so we are very happy together, and I feel I am getting on.

I have got used to the theatre work too, and (after much labour) have learnt the names of all the instruments in common use, so that I can hand them as they are asked for; and sometimes I am trusted to put out what I think will be required for an operation, and when Sister looks them over she doesn't often find anything missing.

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