_Monday, November 1st._--Terribly stormy, rough night, and a most unpleasant day, the disagreeableness of which was not decreased by the continued serious illness of my visitor Virelumlum. All day yesterday and again to-day it has been a continual anxiety and care to me, and I have been dabbling about in the mud and wet dancing attendance upon him. He has quite a serious attack of inflammation of the lungs, and I have had to keep hot flannels going almost continuously, and rack my brains to find out what to give him to keep up his rapidly decreasing strength. In addition to his sickness he has developed a craving for home, and a strong impression that he is going to die here, which with natives sometimes is actually equivalent to mean that they will not recover, and when a native makes up his mind to die, he in most cases does die. There is no remote possibility of getting my friend home in such weather as we are having, and he is killing himself with worry. If the weather were fine I would willingly take him across to Opa in my boat, but that is scarcely possible in a gale of wind and a downpour of rain. On the whole it has been a most anxious and unpleasant day. Being “All Saints’” Day I gave an address in the evening instead of School, and no one, I fancy, was sorry to be indoors out of the cold and wet. I had to paddle off after every one was quietly within doors to feed my patient and make him comfortable for the night. _Tuesday, November 2nd._--A most terrible night, wherein it blew with almost hurricane violence in the squalls, with a perfect deluge of rain accompanied by heavy thunder and lightning. I was not sorry or ungrateful to be brought safely to the beginning of another day. My first business when I got up, was to trudge off to my patient, whom, thank God, I found better, but all day long since I have had to look after him, for he is no exception to the idiocy of all natives, who when they feel a bit better, rush off and do some extraordinarily foolish thing. It was a terrible day throughout, and I was so fortunate in keeping my man within doors, that this evening he was visibly on the mend, and likely to make a good and I hope a rapid recovery. I read him a most strong lecture this morning about his craving for home, and told him he could not possibly get there in this weather, and that he was better where he was even if he could. I said he never would recover if he went on distressing himself about getting home, and told him that he was killing me too, by continually crying for what he could not possibly obtain. And what a lot of spilt milk I have cried over these last few days in my regret at having brought a big man here at all. But the inutility of weeping is more apparent to me than his crying for home is to him. I can hardly say what I have done to-day either to benefit anyone else or myself. This evening I have turned away from my dinner, leaving it untasted, and I feel that I must go to bed.