^ A it. I am inclined to think that the whole thing was a "scare." 

 Still, these things help to make life exciting. — I am going out 

 on the bay with Dr McCoy some afternoons this week for 

 my health, — the sea breezes are so healthful, and then I don't 

 care whether the water from Aparri, or the "lemonade" & 

 soda sold in the Tonds market contains the cholera bacillus 

 or not. 



Please remember me to your father whom, you will recall, 

 I met in the laboratory last winter. Have you had any new 

 photographs taken? If you have, I would be pleased to think 

 of one coming in this direction — even though it has to make 

 an uncertain journey. 



To his mother he reported (June 17, 1903) : 



. . . We had a typical Philippine rain this morning. Water 

 came down in sheets and ran off the ground in rivers. We had 

 to stop work at the laboratory for about an hour because of 

 it. Our biological department is to move in a few days to a 

 new building on Calle Alex, where we will have more room. 

 — We like our new living quarters at Dr Fale's very much. 

 It is nearer the Luneta on the bay front (about a mile) , and 

 so I walk there S^back every evening. Woolley still prefers to 

 ride. — I heard good news the other day. We are to be relieved 

 of much routine "soon" and our salaries will be raised — prob- 

 ably next October. I believe I am to get $2000, in which case 

 I can easily carry all of John's college expenses. 



Better details regarding the new laboratory quarters were 

 sent June 28, 1903: 



Moving to-day, and every member, beginning with Jo- Jo, 

 the monkey with the 95% alcohol habit, to the American 

 Senorita who guards the books of learning, is happy. Our 

 new, temporary, quarters are a vast improvement. My window 

 overlooks, or more truly overhangs, the street and when I am 

 feeling particularly listless I can watch the tailoresses in the 

 sastreria, across the street, or gaze with wonder at the two 

 skinny nags that haul a bouncing car loaded with "googoos" 

 — a part of our wonderful street car system. Or I can look 

 down the street and watch the natives paddling about in an 

 estero or, when the tide is high, see them wading knee-deep 



