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[[underline]] To Mother, October 26, 1925: [[/underline]] The other night I was talking with Blanchard and told him what a fine book I was reading, the biography of Henry Thoreau. Blanchard didn't happen to know who Thoreau was so I asked him if he hadn't heard of Walden Pond. That got an immediate response: "Oh my yes. I've been swimming there." So he had been swimming in the same pond where Henry swam and didn't realize how distinguished a bit of water he was in. ...... If you care to read a really good little magazine to keep you informed regarding current topics, read "Time." I am going to make it part of my weekly routine. I think you would enjoy it, for it puts the facts before you and doesn't offer a whole lot of opinions as the "Digest" does. Take a look into it sometime.

[[underline]] To Mother, October 27, 1925: [[/underline]] They sold one of my motors, a 300 horsepower machine, and isn't it strange? The name of the customer to whom they sold it is none other than the [[underline]] Beatrice [[/underline]] Creamery Company of Denver, Colorado, my favorite name, Beatrice.

[[underline]] To Mother, October 28, 1925: [[/underline]] Just this minute I had Frank Carlton in here to show him "Master Lambton," now on the wall in a brand new gold frame. I asked Frank what he thought of my new picture. His sole reply was to make a pass as if to throw a soft pear he had, at it, and shortly left the room. He made no remark of any kind regarding it. So you see where his appreciation of pictures is, or isn't, to be more exact. I merely asked him to see what he would say or do, and was not surprised at the result. Miss Comstock likes "Master Lambton" anyhow, and Weikel, although saying little, gave it a long and close examination. I am wondering what Blanchard will think of it. I like him a great deal. I believe he has a good deal to him.

[[underline]] To Mother, October 30, 1925: [[/underline]] We had a heavy snowfall this morning and tonight it is dark and moonless. Hence, with my illumination gone, I must needs give up the projected walk through the Little Wilderness to the Schencks. Alternatives are Harold Lloyd in "The Freshman," a call on the Nikiforoff family, "The Iceland Fisherman" which Miss Comstock let me take, Lawrence's "Alternating Current Machinery," letters long overdue, diary long neglected, washing (wool socks), washing (hair), "Mechanical Engineering," "Time," "Transactions of the A.I.E.E.," etc., etc., etc. Wonder what I shall do!

[[underline]] To Mother, November 2, 1925: [[/underline]] Now I can write you a really decent account of the happenings of the weekend. We left Schenectady at about 1:30 o'clock, went through Ballston Spa and Saratoga, and then struck off directly west toward the mountains. After about 15 miles over narrow, steep, "Blue Ridge-like" roads, we arrived at our destination, a little lake way