Viewing page 27 of 154

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

7

reflecting real mountains. That is going to be a marvelous trip, Willie. ...... I had a letter from Eleanor Dodson yesterday in which she told me of her engagement and coming marriage in February, to Malcolm Rees of Boston, whom she met during he first week at Star Island last summer. She is the first of our dear old Table 22, I guess, unless perhaps Rudolph has safely negociated (sic) "the approach." What great old times we used to have, didn't we? Remember the "Kentucky Derb?" -- and, of course, the dog races? ...... Willie, I'm real sorry I mentioned that lecture on relativity by Prof. Karapetoff because I see you took me seriously and thought I really wanted to go. I'd have written the letter even if Dr. Einstein himself had been giving the talk. I wanted to write it. ...... You remember how dense Bill McClennan was on some of those jokes we got off at the Island? Well, listen to this story: They never show comedies on Saturday nights in England because they're afraid the people will laugh in church. ...... Saturday seems to be my unlucky day down at the plant. Last Saturday morning, a piece of steel flew into my eye and I had to go down to the hospital. By the time I got there, the thing was out though. It was the scratch it made on my eyeball that hurt so. Nature certainly does provide for all emergencies -- the moment that chip hit me, the tears began to flow through my eyes in perfect torrents and, I suppose, just washed it right out. ...... I do wish you could see my hands now, although I'd really hate to have you see them. Last week I had to work for two days on a big rush job for the government, I think. Anyhow, it was big heavy sheets of brass and I cut my hands every which way on the razorlike edges. If a piece of raw meat has any nervous system, I know it feels just the way my hands did last Saturday. I should have worn gloves. ...... I don't feel half so fond of the North as I do the South -- it's an awful thing for a Yankee to say, but half my blood belongs to the South, where my father came from, and it is that half that makes me love the South so much, even though I've seen so little of it. ...... Every time your write me, I find out more and more how much alike we are. You love [[underline]] good [[/underline]] music -- so do I; you love poetry -- so do I; and you love art -- so do I, particularly the art of Nature. How unfortunate is the person who doesn't thrill to beautiful music or poetry or scenery. To me, it seems that without the love of them, life would hardly be worth the living -- at any rate, it would be [[underline]] just [[/underline]] living. You and I are lucky people to love science and art both. The world isn't [[underline]] full [[/underline]] of such as we. It isn't anything to be boastful about but it is something to be mighty grateful for, I think.

[[underline]] To Mother, August 3, 1924: [[/underline]] (Re a visit to Syracuse while Mother was in Davenport) I saw Pedro (the Barneys' cat) and he seems to be very well and happy. Asked to be remembered to you. Says he will be glad to see you again in September and has missed you a whole lot. I gave him your regards. When I got up to the house, I called Bill McClennan first.