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much eagerness. However, it wasn't half as bad as he would have led me to think, and I managed to preserve my head until the motor pinion lost its key, and the machine had to be shut down. For the remainder of the day, and all day today, I was cutting gear teeth on a milling machine. All of which, means nothing to Willie - I'm getting too technical to be at all interesting.

About the first thing I laid my eyes on when I walked into the place yesterday, was a big box full of mica. That reminded me of the Shoals, and our walks together on the rocks, and I was lost to the world for a while, just thinking. And speaking of the Island again, reminds me of a poem by
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Sara Teasdale, which I meant to tell you but forgot. It is so like the Shoals that it almost might have been written there:

Evening.
There was an evening when the sky was clear,
Ineffably translucent in its blue;
The tide was falling, and the sea withdrew
In hushed and happy music from the sheer
Shadowy granite of the cliffs; and fear
Of what Life may be, or what Death can do
Fell from us like steel armor, and we knew
The beauty of the Law that holds us here.
It was as though we saw the Secret Will, 
It was as though we floated, and were free;
In the southwest a planet shown serenely,
And the high moon, most reticent and queenly,
Seeing the earth had darkened and grown still,
Misted with light the meadows of the sea.

Don't you like that? Particularly the last line. I think it is beautiful.

I got the pictures, and I'll wait until Monday to show them to you. You had best be prepared to giggle at