I arranged the milk and cream, put the house in order, took care of lamps and room, and drafted a long letter to the Grand Duchess (from the medium), and Empress.
Doctor got Uncle Silas to come at evening and I engaged one hundred bundles of fodder at .04 cents a bundle, to be bought and put in the stable next week.
Have talked with Mr. Brown concerning Lucy.
“A RATHER HARD DAY”
Saturday, Oct. 26, 1907, Glen Echo.
Another fine day. But an experience this morning was anything but that. As Mrs. Barker did not come I was “doing up” the breakfast dishes at the sink and had put a kettle of beans on the stove to parboil for baking, as Doctor had expressed a desire for them. A rather heavy coal fire was going for this purpose. Suddenly I was startled by a great rush at the stove. Supposing that my kettle of beans had boiled over, I turned to see a flame three feet high from a vehicle larger than my kettle, pouring a liquid out over the hot stove that blazed the moment it touched. The Doctor had wanted to use some tar about the roof, and brought in a two-gallon tin bucket partly full and set it on the stove to warm up, and left it without speaking or in any way calling my attention to it. It had gotten boiling hot, and my first notice of its presence was the burst of blaze. The bucket of boiling black tar running over all on fire, the flame streaming up some two feet high. I called the Doctor at the cellar steps, at the windows—no response. The blaze went higher and wider. The carpenters must be on the roof and to the top I rushed, to find no one there—down again. I saw I was the only person on the premises. The room was dark with smoke. I could see little but the blaze. Four feet to the left stood a five-gallon can of kerosene oil for the lamps. I could not remove it and, if I could, I must carry it directly past the flame—if a spark reached, we would be blown to atoms, house and all. The floor was bare, with one or two small cotton mats. I dared not use even them. There was but one way; I must grapple the boiling, blazing mass, take it across the room and throw it from the window. I had no inflammable material on me, being dressed in entire black silk, waist and skirt. There was no time to lose. I tore away the curtain, raised the window to its fullest height, seized the bucket firmly with both hands and landed it on the ground. I knew the smoke must raise outside help as I did it. The Doctor had been to the post office. He rushed in to find me in the midst of darkness. I had closed the doors at first, still the smoke poured out of the chamber windows we kept closed. My right hand, which had taken the tip of the bucket, was nearly covered in a coat of tar, put on boiling hot, and to stay. I did not try to remove it but put it in hot water and went to work with it. I need not say that the rest of the day was needed, and given to the house, but we were only too thankful that we had a house to clean up. The tar coating and hot water saved the hand, so that a few heavy blisters tell the story of their hardship. It is all over now. I write this the next day; last night I could not have done it.
Doctor went to Mrs. Warneke’s; I remained home. Mrs. Hinton came but I made no mention of the morning adventure. She has commenced her new home. I gave her butter, fruit, jellies, to help her table. A rather hard day.
LI
All the world pays homage to the nurse—poets, warriors, statesmen, kings, and the numberless multitudes of human sufferers.... Eugene Underhill, M.D., author of “Nursing—The Heart of the Art.”
Efficient nurses are the most difficult to obtain of all aid in Red Cross work. Clara Barton.