You are all so good about writing--I cannot thank you enough and if only there were more free hours I’d write everybody, but I just can’t. Our hospital again is almost full to capacity, and such badly hurt men,--amputations, two or three of them, every day out of sixteen or seventeen operations every afternoon. Day before yesterday they had a man on the operating table before they decided which of his legs they had better take off! Such a price as is being paid for the new world--but it is not too big to make the new world and liberty and peace and brotherhood and democracy mean something. And how small a share we are having in that price and how we’d give more if we could. I wish E. wouldn’t think that anything we are doing is worthy of admiration--it isn’t--we are doing so little. We love being here and would not leave our jobs for anything that could be offered us. I am writing in bed; it is very late but I don’t feel like sleeping yet. It is very comfortable here in my little bed with my good light hanging beside me. The light is such a comfort. I have bought an oil stove to try and heat this room. I think it will make things more comfortable. Please tell B. the music she sent me was dandy--the Kreisler piece is a beauty. I cannot play the double stops well yet, but I’ll do better with them after a bit. It’s a stunning thing and stays in the mind. One of our nurses made a hit at a concert for the privates singing “Over There,” which was new to us all here. We’d like to have all the patriotic new things you can send like “Goodby Broadway, Hello France”--we haven’t that yet. Tell B. I love the College news and want to know all she is doing. Now I guess I’d better try to sleep a bit. I’ve had a lovely time talking to you. God keep you all, my dear ones. Julia. November 16, 1917. It has been a pretty long time since I last wrote a regular letter. It has not been because we were so terribly busy, for in the last ten days our census has come down a little and things stopped being quite as strenuous as they had been since the first of October. Sometimes, however, I find it hard to write and I put it off, thinking that I’ll be feeling more like doing it the next day. I usually love to write. These last few days, however, we have been most busy, for on the 13th at noon we had notice that our long-expected 31 nurses would arrive that afternoon. Capt. Johnston and I went down to meet them, leaving the people here scurrying around trying to get enough food to feed all those extra people and to work out the plans we made long ago, as to how we would house them until the V. A. D.’s were taken away.