82 LOUIS PASTEUR 



summer the heat of the attic made it impossible to 

 work there. "I see with regret," he wrote to 

 Chappuis, "the longest days of the year lost for my 

 work. Nevertheless I am growing used to my gar- 

 ret and I shall find it hard to leave it. I hope to 

 enlarge it during the next holidays." 



During the year 1859 he was studying fermen- 

 tation. In the latter part of the year he met with 

 a great sorrow, for he had lost his eldest daughter 

 who had died of typhoid fever in September. He 

 wrote his father, "I am unable at present to think 

 of anything except my little girl, so good, so full of 

 life, so happy in living, whom the fatal year that 

 has just passed has taken from us. In a little time 

 she would have become such a loving companion 

 for her mother, for me, and for us all . . . but I 

 beg pardon, my dear father, for recalling to you 

 these sad memories. She is happy. Let us care 

 for those who remain and make ourselves keep 

 from them, as much as in our power, the bitterness 

 of this life." 



