So the year closed upon us as one which had brought great satisfaction in all we expected to gain, professionally and as bearers of a new idea. Youth was with us all, and our hopes of success knew no limit. We were the happiest, even if materially the poorest, of a group of women which included friends engaged in different lines of work, such as journalism, art and music. Of these, none identified herself so closely with us as Mary L. Booth, later editor of _Harper’s Bazar_, who spent every Sunday with us, and who often shared my room and bed when she was out at night as reporter of the New York _Times_ too late to return to her home in Williamsburg. Oh! happy days! Springtime of life! It was the “May” which never returns to the human being, and the beauty of which we realize only long after it has passed. Memories of these glorious days keep with us and reconcile us to the many sad, dark, anxious and trying hours through which we all have to pass in one form or another. These latter make us wiser, perhaps, but certainly not happier, even though we have struggled successfully through the years and feel that we should be contented with what we have accomplished. Still, there was a dark side to my experience during that year. The sick headaches, to which I had been subject off and on since childhood, came upon me quite often and very unexpectedly, evidently due to the overstraining of all my forces, physical and mental, and I was quite often obliged to relinquish some very important duties. Before leaving this year’s record, I must add a few remarks concerning our work, that is, mine and that of the ten or twelve students who had been connected with the Infirmary now for twenty months. The prejudice against women physicians was by no means confined to that stratum of society where education and wealth nurtured the young. We found it just as strong, through habit and custom, among the working people and among the very poorest of the poor. Their coming to our dispensary was not _a priori_ appreciation of the woman physician, but was the result of faith in the _extraordinary_, just as now faith-curers with other claims are sought and consulted in illness. Our work was that of real missionaries. Even among the well-to-do and intelligent, little or nothing was known of hygiene. If “a goneness in the stomach” was felt, whisky, brandy or a strong tonic was resorted to for relief. Diet, rest and the sensible use of water were never considered. So among the poor we found everywhere bad air, filth and utter disregard of food. And sponges, as well as soap, were carried in the satchels of our young medical women along with the necessary implements of the physician. And the former were given to the patients’ friends, after showing them the use of water and soap in fever cases as well as in ordinary illness. It was an innovation in the minds of the people, the teaching that sick people must be bathed and kept clean, and that fresh air was not killing.