General Hospital, London,
September 1897.

Just now I am feeling so sorrowful at the prospect of leaving this hospital (my home for the last three and a half years) that I hardly know how to give my attention to telling you how the last few months have been spent.

No, I have not been turned out, and they have given me a first-class certificate, and are good enough to say that they are very sorry I am going, and perhaps they will have me back again some day!

I think I was warded when I wrote to you last, and after that they sent me home for a little rest. Whenever I go home some one in the village gets ill, or some child gets scalded, or some accident happens; they seem to think it is necessary to keep my hand in; but during that visit home my only patient was poor Jessie, the family cat! It was Sunday evening, and we were all sitting in the dining-room just after prayers, when poor Jessie hobbled in, really screaming with pain. One leg had evidently been caught in a trap, and there was a bad compound fracture which she could not bear me to handle, so I said we must either have some chloroform or the poor dear must be shot. The nearest doctor (and chloroform) was three miles away, but C. volunteered to fetch some, and went off on his bicycle, while I prepared some splints and strapping, &c., and poor Jessie used bad language under the table.

I have sometimes had to hold an obstreperous child while it has been given chloroform, but that is nothing to holding a cat! However, at last we got her under, and then put the fracture in good position and stitched up the wound, securing the leg very firmly on splints; this operation was watched with much interest by all the family and most of the servants; at first the cat would not come to, but we put her in a hamper with plenty of fresh air, and when she did come to, the language she used was "something awful," but she soon settled down and made a good recovery. My people were very anxious for me to say I could not go back to the hospital at the end of my fortnight's sick leave as the cat was still in splints, but I had to leave her to my assistant.

Then I returned to duty as Night Sister again, and everything went on much as usual—generally rather more work than I could do well, and sometimes rushing nights of accidents and emergencies, when it seemed almost impossible to fit in all that had to be done.

It seems that every year more operations are done; the cases are sent out more quickly, and so make room for more acute cases, and so the work grows, but the number of nurses does not grow in the same proportion.

In February there was an urgent call for nurses to volunteer for plague duty in India, so I sent in my name—thought it would be a useful experience—and I wasted much time hanging about the India Office for interviews, &c., but eventually they were unkind enough to say I was not strong enough, and refused to send me. Who would look very strong after acting for a year as single-handed Night Sister for a hospital of six hundred beds?

Then the authorities made a change, and they decided to increase the night staff by the addition of eight more nurses and one more sister. I was only on for a short time after this came into force, just to set things going, and then I was appointed day sister of M. Ward, the women's surgical ward, where I had worked as a lady pupil, and knew and liked the surgeons so much.

Since I was lady pupil there, and before I was appointed Sister of the ward, they had had several changes of sisters, and no one who had been there long enough to take much interest in it; so there was room for improvement, and the surgeons have been so awfully kind to me that I have had a very nice time.

In that ward my bedroom opened out of my sitting-room (attached to my ward), and we had one very exciting night there.

Since the night staff were increased the nurses have had one meal during the night down in the dining-hall, and there are some probationers who relieve our staff nurses while they go down to this meal. I was fast asleep one night when a probationer rushed into my room, "Oh, Sister, come quick, it's all blazing!" I seized my dressing-gown, and was in the ward in a few seconds thinking that she had set the place on fire with the airing sheets (of course my proper nurse was down at her meal); but it was a house just across a narrow road that was indeed all blazing, and my ward was brilliantly lit up by the flames, and the poor patients were all awake, and some of them quite terrified.

I turned on all the lights, so that they should not see the glare, and then we did our best to reassure them that there was no danger. Two poor women with fractured femurs and their legs slung up to Hodgin splints had already hopped out of their beds, and were literally tied by the leg, and they were all begging for their clothes; so I let two convalescents go to the clothes cupboard and put round the clothes to each bed, or dressing-gowns for the helpless ones, while we got our fire-hose out in case of need; but the firemen very soon got the fire under.

Two of our students, who lived in the house which was on fire, had to jump for their lives, and lost all their belongings, and one of them broke his leg.

It was really a bit alarming, as the ward got so hot and smoky, but the patients soon settled down again, and after we had readjusted splints, &c., no one was any the worse.

I had to take my month's holiday in June this year, rather earlier than I like (as it always seems more difficult to work when you come back to face all the hot weather), but we can't all have our holidays in the best months.

A young brother and a sister and I agreed to spend a fortnight about our old haunts in Switzerland, and we had such a jolly time together.

Of course we went first to Paris, and were fascinated with the shops, but tore ourselves away from them to visit the venerable Notre Dame, and then to spend a little time in the Louvre, but it was only time enough just to make us determined to stay longer in Paris on our way back. In the afternoon we took one of the boats up the Seine, and afterwards went for a walk in the Bois de Boulogne—a delightful breathing-place for the Parisiennes—good roads, lovely trees, and greenery, and yet quite near to all the bustle of the town.

The next day we had a hot and dusty journey on to Geneva, rather afflicted by the presence of some old ladies who wished to keep all the windows shut—it is strange how these petty discomforts fix themselves in one's mind!

At Geneva we had vast, big rooms just looking over the lake, in the Hotel des Bergues, and we took a Sabbath-day's rest there, finding a nice service in the English church, and for the rest of the day wandering about near the lake and up the river.

The next day we felt more energetic, and B. went off for a trip round the lake by steamer, while we went up SalÈve by steam and electric tram, a lazy way of proceeding, but it was rather an exciting journey crawling up the face of the mountain, and then such a view from the top; mountains, mountains everywhere, and grand old Mont Blanc poking his head over the top, and down below the lake so still and blue, with green trees down to its edge, and then the trees growing darker as they grow higher up, until they stop and the snow-line begins.

The next day we moved on to Chamonix; the train went only as far as Cluses, and from there we had a drive of twenty-five miles by diligence.

It was a delightful drive on a bright, sunny day; at every turn we seemed to get fresh views of Mont Blanc, and each view seemed more beautiful than the last.

We walked a good part of the way while the horses climbed the hills, and we found many varieties of wild flowers and plenty of wild strawberries.

Chamonix is a charming place, but one wanted more time just to loaf about and enjoy the views. The Mer de Glace is, perhaps, the most noted glacier in Switzerland; it is within easy distance of Chamonix (about two hours' walk), and it is a wonderful sight, but somehow I can't describe it, it is all too solemn and grand. I always feel the truth of what the Psalmist says about the men that go down to the sea in ships: "These men see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep," and I think the same applies to those who climb into the heights of the mountains, but I suppose he had not had that opportunity!

We left Chamonix with regret, and walked from there over the Col de Balme to Martigny; I think it was about twenty miles, but you can walk twice as far in Switzerland as you can in England without being tired, the air is so clear and bracing. It was a lovely tramp, beautiful flowers and ferns, and rushing streams and waterfalls; the last part of the way was trying, as it was very steep going down into Martigny, and the path was paved with little cobbles, so that we arrived rather footsore.

From there we trained to Glion, a very favourite place with us, just perched above Chillon, with lovely views of Lake Leman, of Chillon Castle, and the fine old Dent de Midi at the end of the lake, and it is within easy walking distance of Montreux. There are many nice walks and climbs about Glion, and the flowers—gentians, narcissi, &c.—were perfectly lovely.

Then we had to turn homewards, and found that we could spare only one night again in Paris (we had meant to stay longer): still it gave us a little more time to examine the treasures of the Louvre.

We had a small excitement in the afternoon. We had been walking through the flower market when a shower of rain came on. We sheltered under one of the stalls, and while we were there we heard what we thought was a sharp clap of thunder, but it proved to be a bomb exploding in the Place de la Concorde, but no one was seriously hurt.

When we got back to London it was very busy with preparations for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, which was duly celebrated with much rejoicing all over the country before I returned to work in town.

Now, I had better explain why I am leaving here. I have promised to go as nurse to one of the hotels up the Nile (either to Luxor or Assouan, where they always have a doctor and one nurse through the winter season), with a patient who has spent the last eight winters in Egypt. He is now very ill, and still he wants to go, as he can live so much more comfortably in that climate. His mother can't go with him at present, and they can't bear to let him go alone, so I have promised to go to see him through the voyage (we are going by long sea) and to be at hand in case he should get worse before his mother can join him.

You know I love travelling, so in a way I am glad, but I don't think I am fitted for private nursing, and I am a bit nervous, and also it will be anxious work if my patient gets worse out there, but somehow I could not refuse. It is just horrid saying good-bye to every one and everything here.

I will write again soon from the sunny south.