This morning one young woman tried to escape from Blockley by tying sheets together and fastening them outside the window bars, but they giving way, she fell down from the third storey, and was picked up suffering from concussion of the brain and other injuries. All this is horrible! Women must really open their eyes to it. I am convinced that they must regulate this matter. But how?
August 17.—Drank tea with the matron, and had a very pleasant time. She excites me, and I influence her. She actually apologised to me for her rough and tyrannical treatment of one of the women.
August 19.—A beautiful thought came to me this lovely morning. Emerson says, ‘Our faith comes to us in moments, our vice is habitual.’ I never till now could explain this to my satisfaction. It is that the atmosphere of our society, of our daily surroundings, is false; it attracts the demons, they encompass us continually, for we live in their home. The angels have to strive to come to us. But when by a holy inspiration, or an effort of man’s nobler nature, he rises to a purer sphere, then the angels throng lovingly round him: he breathes the Divine life. But the moment this effort is relaxed, he, not living in a heavenly atmosphere, naturally and inevitably sinks again into hell, because his present home is there—for he cannot separate himself from the race. Not till the race is redeemed will our habitual state be heavenly, and the true spontaneous Divine life be possible. This is the philosophy of effort. The solidarity of our race asserts the impossibility of present permanent Divine life. Bless God for our deep momentary experiences—our prophetic assurances! This sweet morning refreshes me inexpressibly. The wind that lifts my hair seems filled with angel hands that soothe the soul to peace; that little warbling bird fills me with holy joy; a glory seems to rest everywhere, a tide from the Divine Nature.
During my residence at Blockley, the medical head of the hospital, Dr. Benedict, was most kind, and gave me every facility in his power. I had free entry to all the women’s wards, and was soon on good terms with the nurses. But the young resident physicians, unlike their chief, were not friendly. When I walked into the wards they walked out. They ceased to write the diagnosis and treatment of patients on the card at the head of each bed, which had hitherto been the custom, thus throwing me entirely on my own resources for clinical study.
During the summer of 1848 the famine fever was raging in Ireland. Multitudes of emigrants were attacked with fever whilst crossing the ocean, and so many were brought to Blockley that it was difficult to provide accommodation for them, many being laid on beds on the floor. But this terrible epidemic furnished an impressive object-lesson, and I chose this form of typhus as the subject of my graduation thesis, studying in the midst of the poor dying sufferers who crowded the hospital wards. I read my thesis to Dr. Elder, and was greatly encouraged by his hearty approbation.
Trying as my painful residence at Blockley had been both to body and mind, I was conscious of the great gain in medical knowledge and worldly experience which it had afforded. The following journal entry expresses the mixed feelings with which that strange residence was left:—
September 22.—My last evening at Blockley. Here I sit writing by my first fire. How glad I am, to-morrow, to-morrow, I go home to my friends! And yet as I watched the beautiful sunset from my great windows, as little Mary Ann pays her willing attendance, and all seems so friendly; as I walked to Dr. Benedict’s with my thesis, and felt the entrancing day and the lovely country, I almost regretted that I was going to leave. Heaven guide me! May good spirits ever surround me!
At the end of the summer I gladly returned to the healthy and hopeful college life at Geneva. Passing through New York, where I saw Dr. Dickson and his family and heard Henry Ward Beecher preach, I reached my winter’s home on October 3, reported myself at college, met everywhere a kind welcome, and settled down for winter work. The clever demonstrator again afforded me his valuable aid in anatomy, and the friendliness of the class continued. Sometimes, whilst sitting by the Doctor during some delicate demonstration of the brain, the students who were crowding round, standing on chairs, leaning on one another’s shoulders, kept most respectfully from me, drawing back instantly when by accident they touched my head or shoulder.[4]
October 26.—The class held a meeting to-day to request a holiday on election day; and a political division was called for by the assembled students. I went over to the ‘Free Soil’ side, and was received with repeated cheering. I asked Dr. Le Ford, reproachfully, if he was going to vote for the slave-holder, Taylor; whereupon he gave me his reasons for political action, and grew quite eloquent in his self-defence.
November 12.—Howy made his appearance to-day, just as I settled down to perpetrate an essay for the family Christmas Annual. How good it is to see a brother! He looked very well, and we had a merry time together. I stayed away from afternoon lectures to be with him. He is a capital companion and greatly improved. I did more laughing than I’ve done for months. His visit did me real good, for I have been so lonely. Heaven bless the dear boy in his future!