284 ^ a( ^ not ^ een so won derful. Bidding adieu to his daughter, 

 returning to Japan, made the pain down his arm greater. 

 And the seamen were threatening strike in San Francisco; 

 better to hurry. He penned a last word from the Lurline: 



We left two weeks earlier than we expected — while the leaving 

 was possible. There is a superb oil of the original Lurline as 

 two-masted schooner by Montague Dawson in the forward 

 saloon & the reading room is flanked with pictures of clipper 

 ships. 



In San Francisco, he thought it well not to disembark. At 

 Los Angeles (October 10, 1936) his son met him, to take him 

 to his home for rest. Five days later Marie wrote: "Will is 

 sitting up occasionally but feels wretched. — I try to assume 

 your best bedside manner and to buoy his spirits. But it doesn't 

 work very well. ,, 



HE arrived in Cincinnati on October thirty-first, 1936. It 

 was the eve of All Saints' Day. The trip had been hard; 

 and he was tired. His return had been unannounced. Never- 

 theless three of his students forced the railway gates. Gray and 

 sweating he pressed their hands. His wife bent over him to 

 report: "The specimens are all safe." One hundred and thirty 

 cultures from leprosy alone were in a kit that had never been 

 beyond the touch of his hand! He smiled. She turned to him 

 a second time: "We are home, Will." 



