For nearly half a year, their lawn, their verandah, sometimes their rooms, were cumbered with the sick and dying, their ears were filled with the complaints of suffering humanity, their time was too short for the multiplicity of pitiful duties.

In Mrs.de Coetlogon, and her helper, Miss Taylor, the merit of this endurance was perhaps to be looked for; in a man of the colonel's temper, himself painfully suffering, it was viewed with more surprise, if with no more admiration.
Doubtless all had their reward in a sense of duty done; doubtless, also, as the days passed, in the spectacle of many traits of gratitude and patience, and in the success that waited on their efforts.

Out of a hundred cases treated, only five died.

They were all well-behaved, though full of childish wiles.

One old gentleman, a high chief, was seized with alarming symptoms of belly-ache whenever Mrs.de Coetlogon went her rounds at night: he was after brandy.