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forest, and they turned from bluish-green to black. We were absolutely
delighted with our trip. It was glorious. We built a
fire high up on the ridge and cooked beans and dogs. They tasted
great. We ate the dogs, standing on some log and gazing away
across the valley toward the misty horizon where the towering
peaks looked almost like clouds in the distance. The opposite
hills were flaming red, gold, yellow-brown and orange. The river
wound along among the fields far below us. It was like glass
and bright blue like the sky. Oh, it was perfectly marvelous!
I wish you might've been there with me. It was almost as wonderful
as the sea, but not quite –- no, there is nothing like
the vastness of the sea.

[[There is an actual pressed oak leaf here, attached to the page with gummed perforation reinforcements]]

(Above is a leaf which was growing on a Mohawk Valley oak tree
in October 1925. It was scarlet then. It is probably one of
the few leaves of the multi-billion leaf crop that fall, that
is preserved today.)

[[underline]]To Mother, October 21, 1925[[/underline]]: I studied later in the evening,
drawing several vector diagrams in my thesis and writing the
derivation of the electromotive force equation. Tonight I want
to do some more studying as there are some very specific things
I want to look up, such as the derivation of the formula for
"P sub-zero," or the kilowatts to displace the rotor one electrical
radian, and also the theory of the elimination of circulating
currents in delta-connected machines by doing away
with the third harmonic voltage by selection of the right slot
throw. See how learned I shall be? Does all that sound like 
poetry? No, but it [[underline]]is[[/underline]] interesting if one really gets to the bottom
of it, and that is what I intend to do.