I’ve just finished copying the notes of my last lecture. Business is over for to-day; I throw a fresh stick into my ‘air-tight,’ and now for refreshment by a talk with my own dear sister. Your letter containing E.’s was the first to welcome me in my new residence; right welcome, I assure you, it was, for I was gloomy—very. It was on Monday evening your letter came—my first work-day in Geneva. It had rained incessantly; I was in an upper room of a large boarding-house without a soul to speak to. I had attended five lectures, but nevertheless I did not know whether I could do what I ought to, for the Professor of Anatomy was absent, and had been spoken of as a queer man. The demonstrator hesitated as to my dissecting; I had no books, and didn’t know where to get any; and my head was bewildered with running about the great college building—never going out of the same door I went in at. This evening, however, I have finished my second day’s lectures; the weather is still gloomy, but I feel sunshiny and happy, strongly encouraged, with a grand future before me, and all owing to a fat little fairy in the shape of the Professor of Anatomy! This morning, on repairing to the college, I was introduced to Dr. Webster, the Professor of Anatomy, a little plump man, blunt in manner and very voluble. He shook me warmly by the hand, said my plan was capital; he had some fun too about a lady pupil, for he never lost a joke; the class had acted manfully; their resolutions were as good as a political meeting, &c. He asked me what branches I had studied. I told him all but surgery. ‘Well,’ said Dr. Lee, ‘do you mean to practise surgery?’ ‘Why, of course she does,’ broke in Dr. Webster. ‘Think of the cases of femoral hernia; only think what a well-educated woman would do in a city like New York. Why, my dear sir, she’d have her hands full in no time; her success would be immense. Yes, yes, you’ll go through the course, and get your diploma with great _éclat_ too; we’ll give you the opportunities. You’ll make a stir, I can tell you.’