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start work-- whether or not I should leave Syracuse. And that last was my greatest problem because Father isn't living, and to go away from home was to leave Mother more or less alone. And so I worried and thought it over for months. But now as I look back upon it all, I see how wonderfully it has all turned out, and here I am in a niche which couldn't be better. It wasn't through any great effort of mine that I got this job and landed here. Things just seemed to happen this way and that, circumstances came up, advice was given by people whose judgement I respected, and here I am, where six months ago I never even dreamed I'd be. So as the days go by, I am becoming more firmly convinced that things are taken care of for us if we only do our best to carry out our end of the game. In other words, you would say that I am gaining Faith and I think that that is the very finest thing that has come to me since I have arrived here. I always had it to some extent since I began to think at all seriously, but it is only in the last few weeks that it has come to me so strongly, and I know of nothing much more wonderful. And so I would say, don't worry about the future but just know that it will take care of itself. Perhaps you might be able to teach chemistry, and that would give you a chance to go on with your study of it. ...... I certainly did enjoy your little talk on poetry, and those lines from the "Eve of St. Agnes" are wonderful. I have noticed Keats' appeal to the senses, and I remember Mother's pointing out those very lines to me as one of the finest examples. The whole "Ode on a Grecian Urn" is perfectly beautiful, I think, but the one I like the very best of all is that verse from the "Ode to a Nightingale":
[[parchment paper attached, hand-written note as follows]]
"Thous wast not born for death. Immortal Birth; No hungry generations tread thee down. The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown. Perhaps the self same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth when sick for home. She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that hath of times charmed magic casements
Opening on the foam of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn." [[/parchment attachment]]

As that is quoted from memory, please forgive any mistakes in it. I haven't a volume of any kind of poetry here now. ...... I was

Transcription Notes:
Parchment???