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[[underline]] To Willie, November 20, 1925: [[/underline]] I'll think over my Christmas present, dearest. Right now a tin dinner pail with a Thermos bottle seems pretty good. ...... Last night the nozzle was shut down so we all "farmed" to other tests. I went to 77 radio and spent the night "high potting cats," which means giving super-hetrodyne catacombs a high voltage test. ...... One thing a person learns while working nights is the fine art of sleeping [[underline]] anywhere. [[/underline]] At midnight when we have about an hour and a half off, we all sleep, and there is nowhere to sleep but the hardwood floor of the corridor, so there we all sleep. It really looks so funny to see a half dozen boys stretched out asleep on a bare wooden floor that I have to laugh even when I'm one of the crowd doing it.

[[underline]] To Willie, November 22, 1925: [[/underline]] The following are from the Johns Hopkins "Black & Blue Jay:"

"All these fur coats that collegiates are wearing may only go to show they are opportunists."
"Opportunists?"
"Sure ! The wolf may have been at the door when they had an axe handy."

The professor was on his vacation camping trip. At sunset he stood on a cliff and feasted his eyes on the grandeur of nature. Then he addressed the guide. "In this great expanse of natural wonders, man is so insignificant that I feel like a little grub."
"So do I," was the reply. "Let's go down to camp and get some."

And did you ever have occasion to say this, Willie? "I'm in a class by myself," said the professor as he arrived eight minutes late.

[[underline]] To Mother, November 23, 1925: [[/underline]] I had a delightful time at the Nikiforoffs last night. Georges Nivitsky was there and also Mme. Starzenski whom I like as well as you do. She is a most charming lady, a real person. After dinner, Mr. Nivitsky gave us a demonstration of a native Russian dance that was killing. I like him immensely. He has offered to tell me all about the conditions in Russia, which I shall be delighted to get first hand. He is so funny about his English. Last night he was rather excited and at the end of a description of a Russian dancer, he announced that he had on his head a "mutton." When he realized he meant one of those woolen turban effects, we all laughed ourselves to tears. Georges joining in when he realized his mistake. I know I shall be awfully sorry to see the Nikiforoffs go away, for no telling if we shall ever see them again. They are real cosmopolites. ...... A roach running across one's ear doesn't bother one in the least. It is just a little annoy-