Aust. N.Z. J . Surg. 1993,63,299-306 299

SURGICAL HISTORY

FREDERIC WOOD JONES’ EMPATHY WITH LIVING CREATURES

B. E. CHRISTOPHERS

The fourth George Adlington Syme Oration On 5 March 1935 the building of the Royal Aus- tralasian College of Surgeons was officially opened. Of that day the Honorary Archivist of the College (from 1964 to 1971) Mr Julian Ormond Smith wrote:’ ‘The building was opened officially by Sir Holburt Waring [President of the English College] and in the evening the fourth Syme Oration was delivered by Professor Frederic Wood Jones, F.R.S. It was a most colourful ceremony. The visitors in their vari- ety of brilliantly coloured academic robes provided a great spectacle. The handsome, dark-haired orator with his beautiful speaking voice spoke, unaided by a note of any kind, for exactly one hour. The title of his oration was “The Master Surgeon”.’ It was many, many years before any other Syme Oration approached his in quality.’ Wood Jones was chosen as the orator for this

occasion for good reasons. In 1935 he was Profes- sor of Anatomy at the University of Melbourne, his position since 1930. He was known as an outstand- ing biologist, anatomist, anthropologist, orator and teacher to some Fellows of the College prior to this, for he held the post of Elder Professor of Anatomy at the Adelaide University from 1920 to 1927. In this capacity he had visited Melbourne on numerous occasions to deliver postgraduate lectures in anatomy and he had given the T. S. Hall Memorial Lecture, of the Melbourne University Science Club, in 1925 at Melbourne University.

In a previous paper the author wrote of Wood Jones’ talents as an artist and illu~trator.~ The pres- ent paper probes the mystery of his genius as a human and comparative anatomist. The fledgling College acknowledged this genius by granting him an Honorary Fellowship in 1935.

Design and Purpose In his book Design and Purpose he sets down his views concerning the wholeness, the unity and the purposive and designed nature of the ~ N v e r s e . ~

Cmpondence: Dr B. E. Christophers, 377 Church St, Rich-

Accepted for publication 7 October 1992.

mond. Vic. 3121. Australia.

A poem by Ralph Hodgson is quoted by him in the last chapter of this book

‘Twould ring the bells of Heaven. The wildest peal for years, If Parson lost his senses And people came to theirs, And he and they together Knelt down with angry prayers For tamed and shabby tigers And dancing dogs and bears, And wretched, blind pit ponies, And little hunted hares.

There are some who will be of the opinion that Ralph Hodgson’s dream is far too sloppy to have been included in such a philosophical work. Senti- mental it may be, but it does epitomize Wood Jones’ attitude toward other living creatures. More im- portantly the views expressed in this poem reflect Wood Jones’ treatment of, and his involvement and empathy with, living creatures.

To err is human, 1903 During his student days Wood Jones (Fig. 1) lived at the family home, Harley Lodge, 10 Private Road, Bush Hill, Enfield, a suburb of London (Fig. 2). Dogs were favoured as the pets in this household. As well as the family bulldog his mother kept some Schipperkes (a small tailless dog, sometimes known as the Belgium barge dog).

In 1903, the year prior to his graduation, his sister Elsie was married. The reception for this mar- riage was held at Harley Lodge, and on that day champagne flowed freely. Wood Jones offered the bulldog some champagne and the dog accepted the offer. The inebriated dog went wild and killed some chickens that his mother kept in a vacant allotment opposite the house. This transgression earned his mother’s displeasure and him some remorse (Wood Jones’s niece Elizabeth Thomas, pers. comm.).

Anthropomorphism in reverse, 1905-6 This story of anthropomorphism in reverse is based on an event which occurred while Wood Jones lived on the Keeling-C3x-m Islands. He recalled this inci- dent in a letter, written many years later, to his

300 CHRISTOPHERS

Fig. 1. Frederic Wood Jones as a student.

Fig. 3. A photograph taken on the atoll by Wood Jones. His own legend reads: ‘These are the three daughters of the Governor [of Keeling-Cocos Islands, George Clunies- Ross] that are living on the islands. From the left to right they are, Mrs Edmund Clunies-Ross aet 30, Miss Florence Clunies-Ross aet 23, Mrs Blom nee Gertrude Clunies- Ross aet 28 [who after her divorce married Wood Jones in 19101. The two mamed ladies have on a sarong. Mrs Blom is the mother of my little boy friend [Erik] -she is very proud of the left foot shown in the picture.’

Fig. 2. Harley Lodge.

Adelaide friend Ulrica Hubbe.’ Wood Jones lived on the atoll for fifteen uninterrupted months from the end of June 1905 to the end of September 1906 (Figs 3, 4).

Wood Jones was medical officer on the atoll, employed by the Eastern Extension Telegraph Com- pany. The economy of these islands depended en- tirely on coconuts. On one of the islands, and on one only, the rats had developed the habit of climb- ing the coconut trees and gnawing the stems on which the immature nuts grew. It was necessary to contain the rats on that island. Here follows an excerpt from this letter: ‘Funny things students. When I was in the Ishnds I used to wonder at the dogs. The islands swarmed with rats. I used to collect the dogs and we would

Fig. 4. Another photograph taken on the atoll by Wood Jones. His own legend reads: ‘This was taken from my bed looking out through my door. So you see what a fine view I have.’

WOOD JONES’ EMPATHY WITH LIVING CREATURES 301

go rat-hunting and the dogs were ever so enthusi- astic over it all. All I ever did was to kick over coconut husks to make the rats bolt and the dogs thought it was great fun - But if I did not organise the hunt, they would let the rats run all over the place and not wow. Students are like that. If I go into the mom and start looking at an abnormal artery everyone thinks it’s a fine business and full of interest -but leave them to themselves with the best Cadaver in the world and they will carve their initials on the tables and dream of home. Funny little animals.’

Regents Park and Chicko, 1917

From 19 13 to early 19 18 Wood Jones held the posi- tion of Professor of Anatomy to the London School of Medicine for Women.

In 1915 he took on the extra duties of honorary pathologist and honorary veterinary surgeon to the Zoological Society of London. This prompted a move from Epsom to a house at 5 Gloucester Road, Regents Park which was within easy walking dis- tance of the London Zoo. It was his practice as veterinary surgeon to the Zoo to take home those animals that he was unable to adequately care for in the sanatorium at the Zoo.

A Humboldt’s Woolly monkey was his favourite patient. Her name was Chicko and when she was dangerously sick he had carried her home from the Zoo. With care she gradually regained her full strength. She became very attached to her master and jealous of his wife Gertrude. Finally this jeal- ousy got the better of her. She could suppress her feelings no longer and in a pique of resentment she gave Gertrude a nasty bite. She had learnt the ploy of crying into a handkerchief when reprimanded. Although she tried this stratagem at the time of the biting incident, it was clear that she had to be returned to the Zoo. Returned she was; and long after this she would utter her beautiful sonorous call whenever she heard Wood Jones’ voice as he walked near her enclosure. Two other monkeys, both of whom had been patients at his home, were not re- turned to the Zoo. He adopted them. By early 1918 he was able to join the Royal Army Medical Corps (Fig. 5) and he relinquished his positions with the Zoological Society. The two adoptees continued to live at Gloucester Road.

Adelaide, 1920 In 1919, after the war and at the instigation of Sir Henry Newland, Wood Jones accepted the position as Professor of Anatomy at Adelaide University. He and his family left England for Australia on 23 November 1919 and arrived in Adelaide on the last day of that year.

Fig. 5. Wood Jones in the uniform of the RAMC.

Fig. 6. Wood Jones’ own legend reads: ‘Young Emus in Enclosure [at the Adelaide University] 1926 Nov.’

At the Adelaide University he kept koalas, emus, kangaroos, bandicoots and mulgaras (kf f t ’ s pouched mouse) and probably other marsupials (Fig. 6). There he tended them and carefully observed them. One of his favourite marsupials was the ban- dicoot. That he had a liking for the bandicoot is evident from his description of their inimitable be- haviour. Of the short-nosed bandicoot he wrote? ‘It has a general tidy comfortable air as though it fared well and was prosperous and had due regard to its appearance . . . A Bandicoot will give itself over to the business of scratching so whole hearted- ly that it will lose its balance in the process, and end by scratching itself completely off its feet.’

302 CHRISTOPHERS

Dutton Terrace, 1920-27 Wood Jones’ residence during his eight year sojourn in Adelaide was at 30 (now 50) Dutton Terrace, Medindie. Here there was a bevy of cats, an opos- sum and two monkeys. The two monkeys were the adoptees brought with them from London. Georg Baas, a frequent visitor to the Wood Jones’ house- hold in Dutton Terrace, recollects that the name of one of the monkeys was Maude. Within 2 years there was to be an addition to this menagerie.

Wanamoola, 1922 Perhaps the most poignant of his encounters with a fellow creature occurred when he was on a trip with a medical friend to outback South Australia in 1922. On that trip they camped at Wanarnoola water-hole near Millers Creek Station. Even these days Wana- moola would be regarded as being beyond the back of beyond.

With the two medicos was a local Aborigine by the name of George. In those days there was a bounty on dingo scalps. George had tracked a mother dingo to her lair and had dug up two newly born dingo pups from their burrow. George was enchant- ed by these beautiful little creatures, but their scalps were worth as much as that of their parents. After handling these two tiny balls of cream-coloured fluff Wood Jones and his friend could not bear the thought of their slaughter and paid George the scalp money. Each then became the owner of a dingo pup; how- ever, the problem of how to keep them alive till they returned to Adelaide had to be addressed. The rubber reservoir of a fountain pen was used as a dropper to feed the pups from the supply of tinned milk. Keeping the pups warm was another difficulty; during the day they were carried buttoned within the men’s clothing and at night each pup shared the bed with its new master. All went well while the supply of milk lasted. On the return journey, in- cluding that part by rail from Coward Springs to Adelaide, they kept them alive by feeding them water in which bacon rind had been soaked. By the time they reached Adelaide the two emaciated pups had to be nursed back to health. Wood Jones named his pup Mut (Fig. 7).

The Adelaide suburb of Medindie must surely have been startled by Mut’s eerie howls. These dread- ful howls were often provoked by the playing of the family piano. Wood Jones recalls that Mut took a fancy to the scent of women’s handkerchiefs and if presented with the opportunity would steal one.

THE FERAL DINGO

Of the feral dingo Wood Jones wrote:’ ‘The tie between the Aboriginal and the Dingo has been loosened in Australia. The Dingo has become

feral; but the buffalo has already played the same part in the North, the camel may well do it in the Centre; and the cat has done it all over the continent -the white man’s domestic animals tend to revert to the wild in the wide spaces as the black man’s one pet has done. The Dingo, even in the most remote places, has still a curious hankering after man and his fleshpots. He still falls in behind the buggy, still follows the traveller at a discreet dis- tance, still has a leaning towards hanging on to his camp - and this despite the fact that he is always killed at sight for the price set on his scalp.’

Honolulu: The praying mantis, 1927 After he left Adelaide Wood Jones was appointed Professor of Anthropology in the University of Hawaii (Fig. 8). The story that follows forms part of a letter written to Ulrica Hubbe from Honolulu soon after his arrival there in 1927.’

His reference to sardines indicates that his wife Gertrude was in England and that he was batching and preparing meals for himself ‘Do you know the mantis - the “praying mantis” - an interesting beast. I have lived with and loved one for more than two months. She shared my house and my life. She is dead. Before dying she laid eggs and at death gave me one look and asked me to look after the family. The family has hatched, having

Fig. 7. Britta, one of Wood Jones’ stepchildren, with Mut at Dutton Terrace.

WOOD JONES’ EMPATHY WITH LIVING CREATURES 303

been six weeks in the eggs. My adopted orphans number about 50,000, so far as I can reckon them - a heavy responsibility for one who lives on sar- dines. The mother is in spirits and cannot help.’

SIX LITTLE WATER TORTOISES

In a pond in his garden in Honolulu he kept six little tortoises. Their sturdiness and predictability com- forted him when he pondered the fickleness and fraility of Homo sapiens.

Melbourne and the Eastern water dragon, 1930 After Honolulu Wood Jones moved to Melbourne. His home in Melbourne was at 9 (now 17) Lem- priere Avenue, East St Kilda, the last house on the right adjacent to the Green Meadows Gardens. Lempriere Avenue is not a through road. A brick fence prevents traffic entering the gardens. London post light lanterns are set on two pillars of the fence. Between the pillars are iron railings, set more or less horizontally, which allow easy climbing access to the lights. Donald Hutchison who lived (and still does) directly opposite Wood Jones vividly recalls Wood Jones climbing the fence at night in order to catch insects attracted to the light. The insects were

food for his lizards. One of these lizards, an Eastern water dragon, had been given to him by Charles Barrett, a well-known naturalist. In his letter of thanks to Barrett, Wood Jones wrote:9 ‘He started feeding almost at once and never seemed to resent captivity. He has an air of almost super- human intelligence, and his conduct is faultless. He will take beetles offered to him in forceps, and is not in the least shy. So far he has refused nothing - moths, butterflies, blowflies, beetles, isopods and worms, all seem good to him, and he is a delight, for he has a wide range of colour variation. After a meal, and when he is feeling good about it, his colours are very beautiful. He catches every- thing with his tongue, and that further surprises me: it is a funny pink, sausage-shaped tongue and he can protrude it quite a long way. A charming beast, and I am very grateful to you for him.’

Keeping the lizards company at Lempriere Ave was a penguin.

Manchester: The war, 1943 Late in 1937 Wood Jones left Melbourne and moved to Manchester (Fig. 9). His address there was 19 Rusholme Gardens, Platt Lane. It was one of a large block of apartments; no place for largish pets. In one of the miserable winters during World War I1 he had an unexpected encounter with a white mouse which he explained in a letter to Ulrica Hubbe:” ‘This week-end has been one of comparative gaiety for yesterday; it was very cold and raining - I picked up a derelict white mouse on the pavement outside the University. As it seemed to be lost and likely to die I put it in my pocket and so now we have company. He has so far recovered as to have given me a good hunt when he escaped in the flat -but that all goes towards making life gayer.’

Fig. 9. Taken at the Manchester University. From left to right: Thomas Barlow (member of staff), Jean Sheldon (a medical student), Wood Jones, Jessie Dobson (member of staff), not known.

Fig. 8. Wood Jones standing on the front steps of his home in Honolulu.

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London, 1953 After the war Wood Jones became the first Sir William Collins Professor of Human and Compara- tive Anatomy, and Conservator of the Hunterian Museum at the Royal College of Surgeons of Eng- land. During most of this time he lived in a block of flats in London, 20 Marsham Court, Westminster (Fig. 10).

There he kept pet toads. His nephew who lived in the same block of apartments couldn’t come to terms with having these amphibians as such close neighbours.

The path of anatomy Wood Jones’ anatomical work was based upon dis- section of the non-living and observation of the living. His natural bent as a student at the London Hospital Medical School was towards physiology rather than anatomy. However he found some of the physiology experiments rather beastly and un- necessary. This, as well as the encouragement he received from his anatomy teacher Sir Arthur Keith, enticed him along the path of anatomy rather than that of physiology. This path was the same as that followed by another of his mentors, John Hunter.

What Wood Jones said about Hunter could be said of Wood Jones himself, namely: I ’ ‘He realized that, if real progress in the knowledge of living things were to be made, a synthesis must be effected; for no advance was possible if one set of workers was confined to the study of function, while lacking first-hand knowledge of structure, and that anatomical studies divorced from a knowledge of function were likely to prove sterile. The student of structure must of necessity be instructed in function.’

A perfect example of this marriage of structure and function is found in Wood Jones’ R. M. John- ston Memorial Lecture of 1925 delivered in Hobart entitled ‘The mammalian toilet and some consid- erations arising from it’.’’ This lecture was based upon the method by which animals clean, scratch and preen themselves using their tongue, teeth, digits, muscles, horns, antlers, tail, nails and claws. In a manner characteristic of so many of his contribu- tions to anatomy this lecture was based entirely upon keen observation. There can be no doubt that these visual perceptions were heightened by the em- pathy that Wood Jones had with living creatures. The following extracts from this lecture bear testi- mony to this.

The toilet of the coat of the dog and the cat ‘We brush our hair when we rise in the morning, we may do it again in between times and before we retire at night. Animals perform the toilet of the coat at very varied intervals; some do it only when

Fig. 10. Marsham Court.

the call is imperative, some perform it almost with- out ceasing during their waking hours. As a homely example, the cat is for ever at its toilet when not otherwise employed; the dog devotes its energies to a good scratch only when the insistent attentions of a flea, or something of the sort, have evoked an imperative desire to scratch. In this very homely illustration there lies a deep physiological truth. The dog possesses the well-known “scratch reflex”; tickle his front ribs, and his hind leg will start scratch- ing movements in response. The cat has no such generalized reflex, save for a slight local manifesta- tion around the ears. You may tickle a cat’s ribs as long as you care to do it, but you will never produce a sympathetic twitch in his hind leg, such as may be evoked in an instant in a dog. The coat toilet of the cat is a deliberate operation, the occupation of a well-employed leisure. The coat toilet of the dog is a reflex and unconsidered affair, imperative, utili- tarian and unaesthetic in its manifestation.’”

The cat’s tongue ‘That the curious roughness of the tongue of the cats is in reality begot for flesh-rasping is to my mind a very doubtful supposition. I think it may be contended that among the functions for which this peculiar roughness would be required, the business of coat toilet far outweighs that of flesh-rasping when we come to observe the habits of, even, a domestic cat. Although the flesh-rasping function has become the accepted and traditional explana- tion of the peculiar rasp like nature of the tongues of the Felidue, I feel certain that the brush-and- comb tongue is essentially a toilet implement, and that the flesh-rasping habit is rather a minor one, magnified in order to explain a very peculiar struc- ture. In such a study as this we must not forget that apparent triviality may be compensated for by fre- quency; a condition that is often not duly considered. The toilet of the Feline’s coat is a never-ending business; for every once that a cat’s tongue is called

WOOD JONES’ EMPATHY WITH LIVING CREATURES 305

upon to rasp flesh from bone it is employed a hun- dred times as brush and comb and sponge in one.

The toilet of the cats is a remarkable affair, and one well worth watching. It will be noted that the animal licks all parts of its body that are within direct reach of its tongue, and the tongue can reach almost all its body save the sides of the face, the top of the head and the back of the neck. In order to conduct the toilet of these parts the cats have per- fected a toilet process, which, so far as I know, is confined to them; they lick the side of the paw and cleanse the head and face with that. This use of the furry paw as a sponge is, I believe, unique with the Felidue, but I by no means feel prepared to uphold the thesis that, when the operation is canied to the backs of the ears, rain is likely to follow.”2

Front teeth and the hair combing of the mulgara (Krefft’s pouched mouse)

‘These attractive little marsupials scratch themselves vigorously with the digits of the hind foot; but if any part of their body demands special attention they turn their heads and nibble and comb their hair in a very characteristic fashion. From these observa- tions I have been for some time convinced that the front teeth and the syndactylous digits were com- plementary structures vicariously discharging the same functions; and have already suggested that the little sharp front teeth of certain other animals are probably of more importance as toilet implements than as organs connected with alimentation. It is only of late, however, that, in watching Dusycercus at its toilet, I have come to realize that there is a remarkable specialization of its front teeth, which is, as far as I can determine, related solely to the function of hair-combing. Of the eight incisors car- ried in the upper jaw, two, the central members, are in every way abnormal. These two teeth are remarka- ble, not only in their form, but in the axis in which they are carried in the jaw, for they rake forward at an angle which carries them out of alignment with all the rest of the teeth. So marked is this projection of the upper central incisors that, in the normal position of the jaws, they do not articulate with the corresponding members of the mandibular series. The upper central incisors are large teeth, larger and longer than their fellows, from which they are separated by an interval which exceeds their own diameter. They are also separated from each other by a slightly smaller interval in the mid line, and at their tips they somewhat tend to approach each other. The corresponding lower central incisors are also specialized, being considerably longer and larger than their fellows, and separated from each other in the mid line by an interval similar to that which separates the incisors of the upper jaw. When the jaws are opened and shut it will be seen that these

specialized front teeth do not bite together as the other incisors do, but the lower centrals close behind the upper centrals, their “occlusal” surfaces failing to articulate. It is impossible, after having watched the animal at its toilet, to avoid the conclusion that these specialized, projecting incisors, separated by a median gap, are the functional counterpart of the little parallel claws of the syndactylous pedal digits. Indeed, it is difficult to postulate any other function from them’ (Fig. 1 l).’2

Brush for cleansing the hair comb ‘The lower front teeth of the Lemur, being no ordi- nary teeth, but hair-combs, need an extraordinary tooth-brush. This tooth-brush is present in the form of the remarkable development of the lemurine sub- lingua. Although the real use of the sublingua was probably known to many observers of animals, to science it remained a mysterious structure.

In 191 8, as the result of watching Lemurs at their toilet, I published an account of the functional role of the sublingua. When a Lemur has conducted the toilet of those parts of its body that it can reach with its dental hair-comb, it rapidly moves the sublingua backwards and forwards over the comb, and with its little horny processes removes the debris from its teeth.’ (Fig. 12).”

Fig. 11. Wood Jones’ own legend reads: ‘The front teeth of Krefft’s pouched mouse (Dusycercus cristicauda), show- ing the specialised central incisors.’

Fig. 12. Wood Jones’ own legend reads: ‘The tongue of a Lemur, to show the so-called sublingua (plica fimbriata) adapted to the cleansing of the dental hair comb.’

306 CHRISTOPHERS

Geckos lack movable eyelids ‘There is a very attractive gecko, which is widely distributed in Australia, but does not extend its range to Tasmania named Gymnodactylus miliusi, which has almost become legendary as the “Wagga” which stands on its hind legs, barks like a dog, and bites severely and venomously. It is in fact a charming and harmless creature, which is certainly vocal and certainly stands erect on the tips of the toes of all four feet; but beyond that does nothing outrageous. Like all Geckos, it lacks movable eyelids; but, lack- ing one instrument, it uses another, and its tongue replaces the absent eyelids in the office of removing particles from the surface of the eye. Gymnodacrylus miliusi has an attractive habit of solemnly sweeping its tongue over the surface of its eyes, and probably other Geckos can do the same.’”

The Pearson Island rock-wallaby Of the Pearson Island rock-wallaby Wood Jones wrote as ~ O I I O W S : ’ ~ ‘It is an exceedingly beautiful wallaby, its markings conspicuous in their contrasts of dark lateral body stripes, white throat and chest, and bushy tufted tail. On such level ground as the island affords its gait appears somewhat awkward, for it travels with the head low and the tail arched conspicuously up- wards. It seems that for such progression it has to cant its body forwards at an ungraceful angle, for the tail is not used as a fulcrum as it is in the “scrub’ wallabies and kangaroos, it is carried sheer off the ground in all gaits. When one is startled across the more or less level saltbush areas it gets away at an awkward gait, using every bush for cover as it goes, but seeming to proceed more or less without regard to its bearings. When it wishes to see where its safest line of retreat lies, or where it is threatened, it stops, puts up its head, and looks around. But short of stopping it appears unable to raise its head from its rather ungraceful stoop to take in any wide view. Though it may seem an ungraceful animal in open bush country, it is a very different creature when seen upon the huge, fantas- tic, granite boulders which constitute the main por- tion of its island home. Here its movements are astonishing; there seems to be no leap it will not take, no chink between boulders into which it will not hurl itself. There is no part of the northern portion of the islands that it does not inhabit; it is at home on the naked granite boulders of the shore upon which the surf crashes, and on the lichen cov- ered boulders of the summit, nearly 800ft. above, where moss, ferns, and casurinas of large growth constitute a very distinct type of environment.’

This expressed admiration at the wallaby’s adap- tation to its rocky environment shows Wood Jones’ feeling for this creature was not based on unin- structed sentimentality.

His empathy with living creatures and his inquisi- tiveness regarding their behaviour were responsible in part for the genius that was abundant in his works on anatomy.

Acknowledgements The author would like to thank The Royal Society of Tasmania, The Royal Australasian College of Surgeons and the Annals of the Royal College of Surgeons of England for permission to publish ma- terial from their journals, and the Royal College of Surgeons of England for permission to use material from their Library.

Acknowledgement is also due to the Government Printer of South Australia for permission to repro- duce material from the book The Mammals ofSouth Australia .

The author acknowledges the assistance of Mrs Sally Hellwege and that of the archivist of the Col- lege, Mr Colin Smith.

References I . SMITH J . 0. (circa 1965) The History of the Rovd

Austrirliisiun College of Surgeons from 1920 10 1935, p. 27. Royal Australasian College of Surgeons. Melbourne.

2. WOOD JONES F. (1935) The master surgeon. Aust. N.Z. J. Surg. 5 , 34-7.

3. CHKISTOPHERS B. E. (1992) Frederic Wood Jones. artist and illustrator. Ausr. N.Z. J. Surg. 62. 60-9.

4. WOOD JONES F. (1942) Design and Purpose, p. 92. Kegan Paul. Trench and Tmbner, London.

5 . WOOD JONES F. (1933) Letter to Ulrica Hubbe, lodged in the Wood Jones’ Collection in the Library of the Royal College of Surgeons of England.

6. WOOD JONES F. (circa 1926) Bandicoots. Unpublished manuscript lodged in the Wood Jones’ Collection in the Library of the Royal College of Surgeons of Eng- land, p. 6.

7. WOOD JONES F. (1925) The Mummals of South Aus- rruliu. Purr Ill. The Monodelphiu. p. 355. Government Printer, Adelaide.

8. Wooon JONES F. (1927) Letter to Ulrica Hubbe, lodged in the Wood Jones’ Collection in the Library of the Royal College of Surgeons of England.

9. WOOD JONES F. (5 Dec. 1930) Letter to Charles Barrett. Original letter held by Dr B. E. Christophers.

10. WOOD JONES F. (1943) Letter to Ulrica Hubbe, lodged in the Wood Jones’ Collection in the Library of the Royal College of Surgeons of England.

I I . WWD JONES F. (1949) John Hunter and his museum. Ann. R. Coll. Surg. 4, 337-41.

12. WOOD JONES F. (1925) The mammalian toilet and some consideration arising from it. PAP. Proc. R. Soc.

13. WOOD JONES F. (1924) The Mammuls of South Aus- tralia, Part 11. The Bandicoots und rhr Herhivororu Mursupiuls (The svndactylous Didelphiu), p. 231. Government Printer, Adelaide.

TUS. 14-62.