The Portland daily press., 1862-06-27
Nervousness in the sick-Room

"Oh, oh! it is so weary lying here nobody
to talk to, no one TO read TO me, and the hired
girl stepping around in the kitchen, keeping
time, verify believe, to the noisiest, shrillest
tune, in the whole catalogue of psalms |
cannot sleep; and have thought SO much |
want to stop thinking; and there is nothing to
look at--the paper on the wall is so monoto-
nous-a flower set in one place, and leaf three
inches of, as If they belonged to Shaker
community, and must not join hands, Next
time paper sick room, I'll do it with win
dow curtains a caravan here, and a Chinese
pagoda there, and an old ruin by the door; at
least it would make variety. believe should
be glad to see beetle, If it came fresh from
outdoors.
"What good mother Nature is She knows
we should tire of seeing one thing all the time !:
and so she freezes up, and thaws out; puts on
garments, and exchanges; lays carpets and
takes up; sweeps and has a general overturn
many times year; just what the eye needs
But poor mortals must 90 by routine-four
dailias, two marigolds, and six myrtle stems
in my vase each day for a week. / know that
l ought to be thankful to husband for even
clover stock; it is SO unlike men; but why
couldn't he, without being asked, break oif
half yard of the morning glory, all fresh with
dew on its great purple cups, and twine it in
with the white and pink and let them trail
from the desk TO the floor, where | could look
at them, and forget all about Milly's singing,
and the step, step, that jars like the break
down of chair.
Il wish some one would come in-not that
tiresome Mrs. Prague, who sits down by my
bed, and,with a long face, and sephulcral voice,
inquiries if feel any more resigned to the
chastisenent OF sickness. How l fire up. As
if sickness were dealt out like so many strokes
TO boys jacket-only TO naughty folks! Or.
that particular Mrs. Hurlbut, that straightens
out the curtains into just so many folds, shakes
down the hearth-rug, and blows off the least
perceptible dust on the stand; as if i wanted
any one limiting by actions that things are not
neat enough, when have been trying all day
TO forget it. Neither do l want that Miss
Quail, who steals in as gently as if l had but
two breaths of life in me, and inquiries "if the
doctor has still hopes of quelling the disease"
as II the hours talk he gave me each morn
ing to convince me that L was half well, and
nothing at all serious now troubling me, was
TO deceive memo truth in it. Why don't
Mlly stop singing?
Il know who i do wish to see-cheerful.
laughing Linda Lee! She would open the
door without any jar, yet firmly, as if no one
was lying there, with nerves like changing
brass wire, yet brittle as spiders web: and
then she would scatter her gift right on the
desk-a bunch of pansies in their green leaves
some sweet clover that smells of the meadow.
and half dozen roses, branch and ALL She
would tell me how bright l was looking, and
she knew was better before she came in, for
she saw my husband looking so cheerful; an
Indirect way of informing me that my hus-
band thought SO much of me, that his face
was barometer Of my state of health and a
very good medicine for the half-undeflned,
wicked doubts, that crept into my thoughts
this morning-if was not such a poor use
less body, that no one would mourn much if L
was out of the world. Well, next she would
take a comb, and smooth out the uneven
strands that Mily always braids, as if she was
lame in one hand, rippling the waves over her
wrist, and quietly talking TO me all the time
about some pleasant incident down town, or
witty speech of brother Tom; or answering
hopefully every doubt about our projected trip
to the White Mountains next year.
"Oh, sweet Linda Lee is worth whole reg
iment of common visitors! She don't talk at
me, or give me good advice; but she makes
me feel right willing to be sick, if it is best,
without complaining; and to rest quiet in a
Fathers care, without murmuring. But, there
is the SIX O'Clock bell, and husbands step
amt glad? Milly may sing, and the Shaker
paper stare, if husband is here, with his hope
ful words and cheerful smile, to make this duh
room brighter than sunshine. - Arthur's Mag
azine.