ROCHESTER, Minn., Tuesday—There is a certain monotony about one's life when it revolves around a patient in a hospital. For several days Jimmy will be in the condition where the more he sleeps, the better it is for him. While it is very pleasant to have someone drop in for a minute when he wakes up, I am not at all sure that the less effort any patient makes these first days, isn't a gain for the future.

Every patient tries to smile and look better for the doctor's visits, and the same thing is so about the members of his family. It is only with the nurses that a patient usually settles down to making no effort.

When my husband went to see Jimmy last night, a group of the student nurses and sisters gathered in the entrance hall and on the stairs, anywhere, in fact, where they could get a glimpse of of him. He remarked: "This is running the gauntlet," and they all laughed.

This morning, what looked like a small convention of doctors assembled in the hall outside of Jimmy's door to greet my husband. When he came back after his little talk with Jimmy, everyone was in such good spirits that the nurse had to follow to remind them Jimmy was going to sleep.

I have resumed my walks back and forth to the hospital and spend less time there.

Some time ago I told you that I was having Peter Bard's love letter, preserved in the archives of Bard College, copied. It is so quaint and yet so expressive of his feelings that I think any "lady fair" of today would be flattered to have the same things written to her. So I quote it here and, if I have any love-lorn swains among my readers, they may well use it as a model. The rest of us can smile a little wistfully perhaps, over the sentiments.

"Newcastle, May 11th, 1707

To

Madam Dianah

Marmion in

Philadelphia

Dear Madam—Tho I am at so great a distance from you my mind is still with you nor can one minute pass without having a kind thought of you. I shall be in little ease at least if not in purgatory till once more I have the happiness of being with you. My dear soul do me the justice to believe that I can not flatter, but that I am so much engaged to your dear person that when I am not with you the whole world seems a desert and I the most melancholy soul alive; it is by your smiles like ye influence the sun has upon the plants that I subsist nor can I wish to live without them; therefore dear soul let no insinuation influence you to yet disadvantage of him whose ambition is to be ever your lover and

Most humble and faithful servant

P. Bard-"