It was a blessing that no native reporters were near, or to-morrow
morning we would see in large letters: SHOCKING AFFAIR IN THE RED
ROAD. ONE EUROPEAN LADY ATTACKS ANOTHER.
My only fear was tetanus. We have been told such tales of a slight cut
causing death that I hurried G. along until we burst breathless into
a chemist's shop in Park Street and demanded "something to keep away
tetanus!"
The chemist gave us some permanganate of potash, and for the last hour
I have been bathing the wrist, assisted by Bella, who has ruined two
of my best handkerchiefs in the process. The damaged G. has just
departed, and I do hope won't be much the worse. Such awful things
happen here. You meet people well and strong one day and hear of their
death the next. Death seems appallingly near. One isn't given time to
be ill. Either you are quite well or else you are dead.
Now I must stop and go and dress, I see Bella fidgeting. When this
reaches you the Old Year will be very near its end. I hate to let
it go: it has been such a good old year. Is it that I forget the
unpleasant parts? Perhaps, but in looking back I seem to remember only
sunny days and pleasant things.
To you, my friend, I send every possible good wish for the New Year.
May it be the best you have ever had. May it bring you health, wealth,
and, above all, happiness.
"The world is so full of a number of things,
I am sure we should all be as happy as kings."
Isn't that a lovable sentiment?
_Dec.
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