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[[underline]] To Willie, August 25, 1925: [[/underline]] This evening, Lewis Schenck got two of the girls and we four played tennis from 7 to 8, when it got so dark that we were finally forced to stop. Mother and Mrs. Schenck sat in the car and watched us. I certainly did enjoy the two sets immensely. The girls were very good and I pictured you as playing just about on a par with Betty Adler, who is a whiz -- has a marvelous stroke. When you are in practice, I know you play just about the same style as she does. We shall play together next summer in Louisville [[underline]] and summer after that in Schenectady. [[/underline]] ...... Dave McLenegen is away on a weeks canoe trip in the Adirondacks, going with his partner, Phil Bowman, who shares with him, the two-man, single-blade championship of the Middle Division fo the American Canoe Association. In other words, they both wield a wicked paddle.

[[underline]] To Willie, August 26, 1925: [[/underline]] Again Mother and I sat down by the river at sunset time tonight. It was another of those sunsets so beautiful that one can remember no other equal it. The sun went down in a bank of heavy clouds but just peeped out as he was dropping behind the rim of the hills. The sky was filled with beautifully tinted clouds high in the sky, all purple and gold and rose. Then behind them was the lovely azure of the cloudless spaces, while shooting up from behind the clouds, were huge white shafts of the sun's light. The water of the river was almost more beautiful than the sky as it reflected the scene. And then again we saw the trains go thundering across the bridge -- the "Century" and the "Empire." Those rails lead away to Louisville. I want to come to you now and not wait. Mother and I are going to Albany next Saturday and have dinner at Keeler's just to bring back the memory more vividly of those meals we had there together. Remember the chocolate ice cream? Foolish question for me to ask.

[[underline]] To Willie, September 1, 1925: [[/underline]] Tonight there was the full moon. Mother and I got a boat and went out onto the river. It is a gorgeous night. The moon is dazzling. And what fun we had watching all the little yellow, red and green lights shining here and there, and making yellow, green and red "candles" in the water. The railroad signal bridges across the tracks were silhouetted against the sky with the tiny colored lights shining in the silhouette. Every once in a while, one of them would suddenly and very mysteriously turn from yellow to green, or red to yellow. Occasionally, and always a few moments after one of these mysterious transformations, a train would go tearing across the bridge, with the red light of the furnace glaring from the cab and all the little windows glowing mellowly in the gathering darkness. I looked at the moon and thought of the scene he made two months ago, shining across the restless sea to where we were sitting on the rocky cliffs of the Island.

[[underline]] To Mother, September 2, 1925: [[/underline]] I heard a good one at Schumacher's