girl? She lives at the Chicago Foundlings' Home with Mrs foX 

 Shipman, the dearest of old ladies. I used to take her home to 

 River Forest every Christmas Eve. We always had a Christmas 

 tree for my little niece; and my brother-in-law dressed up as 

 Santa Claus for Priscilla's special benefit. You should have seen 

 the light that came into her face when Santa Claus took her 

 upon his knee and allowed her to feel his long beard ! That is a 

 treat I shall miss this year; but my sister tells me that she has 

 arranged to have Priscilla out as usual. 



Dr Woolley, Mr Clegg and I take turns doing routine clini- 

 cal work on holidays. They think they have a great joke on me 

 because my turn falls on Xmas and New Year's Day! They 

 tell me, that that is what I get for going to Japan — but of 

 course I don't care. 



We have been having wet weather and, following it, a 

 plague of insects. Just now there are more than a million mos- 

 quitoes, small flies and beetles around my electric light. I am 

 working up the fleas that occur on rats, mice, etc in Manila in 

 connection with the plague. Woolley says I go bug-house when 

 the brigade marches into the lab with the dead rats. Then, I 

 have been working on some glandered horses just to keep my 

 hand in. We have no guinea pigs so I had to drop the work on 

 cholera. The weather is perfectly delightful. I don't see how 

 you can stand the dreadful cold you must be having. I believe 

 I can never learn to bear it again. 



Yes, my recollections of Japan are already becoming hazy 

 and sometimes I wonder whether I really went to that country 

 or if I just dreamed of that visit to fairyland. I want to go back 

 someday, not to see the wonderful temples at Nikko or Nara 

 nor the great Daibutsu at Kamakura nor even to worship at 

 the base of Fujiyama, the sacred mountain; but to see the 

 babies. If I were a girl, I would play with a Japanese doll for 

 it represents the best child in the world. 



Thank you very very much for the Life of Pasteur by 

 Vallery-Radot. I had been wishing for it ever since it came 

 out. 



IN Manila a new serum laboratory was being opened. There 

 was no question, of course, of who by priority, training and 

 experience should be its "director." The place, besides, carried 



