To most of us leprosy as a disease is something at once so remote and so repulsive that we put it wholly out of our minds and at best connect it only with R. L. Stevenson’s generous defence of Father Damien, or—more romantically—with the fatal kiss that Violaine, out of sheer pity, bestowed on Pierre de Craon in L’Annonce faite a Marie. Yet, prosaically considered, leprosy is one of the health problems of the Empire, for though practically nonexistent in Europe, it remains a real scourge in several of our tropical Colonies and not least in our Protectorate of Uganda. Here, unhappily, thousands of lepers, calculated indeed as high as four per cent, of the native population, are living to-day, largely untended and uncontrolled, spreading their terrible disease among children and neighbours, the means of coping with the situation being still sadly inadequate.

From a useful little booklet issued by the Uganda Government for the instruction of all concerned, one gathers that leprosy is emphatically a poor man’s disease, the outcome of dirt, drink, ill-ventilated huts, over-crowding, under-nourishment, in brief of a total disregard of the laws of hygiene and sanitation which extreme poverty entails in all countries. Leprosy is not an infectious disease as was universally believed throughout earlier centuries— hence the terrible sentence of isolation imposed on the victims—but it is acutely contagious, especially to children, under conditions of close intercourse in over-crowded dwellings, by a common use of bedding, drinking-cups, etc. If due precautions are taken, such as entering infected huts as little as possible and careful washing of hands immediately after touching infected objects, there need be no special risk for healthy persons in tending leper patients, although the heroic nature of such a vocation remains without question.