Patients who refuse to pass quietly

A city hospital nurse confessed to me that she had become hardened like many of the other girls.

She told me now, one night, one of the nurses in her hospital was watching by the bedside of a woman in a very serious condition.

She was reading and keenly interested in her novel. The patient hadn’t stirred for a long time, but suddenly said, “Nurse, don’t you think it’s time I had my medicine?”

The nurse nearly jumped out of her shoes. “Good gracious!” she cried, “How you startled me. I thought you were dead!”

Comforting, wasn’t it?


That altogether charming Anglican, the Rev. C. E. Doudney, sailed to England by the Medic last week, taking his English wife and Australian born kiddies with him. You will remember that .he used to officiate at fashionable Christ Church in North Adelaide. Such a place for toney weddings and expensive hats. He laboured in the vineyard alongside the sombre but dear and venerable Dean Marryat, whose sermons, I am afraid, are far too deep for a frivolous person like your Aunt Tabitha. The Rev. Doudney was latterly at Gawler. Open-handed, open-hearted, a regular sport, and a delightful conversationalist, 1 think his pulpit should be hard to fill.


There are a great many girls glad that one particularly giddy Adelaide businessman has gone to reside in the hills. He had his own particular and gay way of paying his attentions – most extreme attentions, too, to fair passengers on the trams. There was quite a fuss over one North Adelaide girl, whose brother called upon the giddy person – not a bad-looking man, by the way – and asked him politely to insure his life at once. The annoyed brother said he had a fixed determination to hit the playful man on the head with the Bank of Australasia, or do something equally murderous. Those tunnels on the ’hills’ line will be a great temptation to the gay fellow, and I’m quite expecting to hear that he has met with more trouble.


Aunt Tabitha in The Gadfly 7 March 1906