A few days after the great Dr. Hideyo Noguchi died in Africa (TIME, May 28) under the hot sun of northeastern Japan a woman was spading her wheat fields. Her hands were squarish; the palms rough, the backs faintly ridged with thin veins. Her face, rugged and serene, showed her 50 odd years.
Over the fields a stranger approached. She shaded her eyes with a hand and saw that he wore a black frock coat. His walk was diffident as well as awkward. She waited for him to come close. And her eyes widened as the ill forecast of his roundabout phrases...
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