grass. The men laughed and chattered, and at last shouldered their
burden and trotted off as merrily as if they were going to a matsuri.
I never before felt the cruelty of heathenism so keenly. No punishment
in the next world can equal the things they miss in this life by a
lack of belief in a personal God.

It must be very beautiful at home about this time. The beech trees are
all green and gold, and the maples are blazing. I am thinking too
about the shadows on the old ice-house. I know every one of them by
heart, and they often come to haunt me as do many other shadows of the
sad, sad past.



HIROSHIMA, December, 1903.


God bless you honey, I've got a holiday and I've sworn vengeance on
anyone who comes to my door until I have written my Christmas
letters. I wish I was a doctor and a trained nurse, and a scholar, a
magician, a philosopher and a saint all combined. I need them in my
business.

I have spent this merry Christmas season, chasing from pillow to post
with bandages, hot water bags, poultices and bottles. We have had a
regular hospital. All the Christmas money I had saved to buy presents
for home went in Cod Liver Oil, and Miss Lessing, bless her soul, is
doing without a coat for the same purpose. When you see a girl
struggling for what little education she can get, and know what
sacrifices are being made for it, you just hate your frumpery old