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engaged to Emerson Metzger, the son of a wealthy Warren merchant, so, if she marries him (which would surprise me), she will move away and that will put a natural end to this question. I don't criticize Willie for all this or blame her, for I have too many frailties to do that. I think any uplift work that I might do should begin with myself.

Yesterday Mr. Webb made a remark that started me wondering a little. I asked whom I should have check the "Mongrel" main diagram for me. He replied, "Bredenberg. He's the man to do it because he's going to--you and he are going to handle the New York Central together." The original plan was that I would take Ogden's place and handle the New York Central, but now it appears the plans are shifting and I was inclined to begin the old game of worry. But I declare I [[underlined]] will not [[/underlined]]. I have lived long enough and learned enough at last, to know that it is silly and utterly apart from the proper way. This time I trust, and know that whatever is, is for the best.

Erie, Pa.,
Monday, September 19, 1927.

Last Saturday I did not get a chance to write down what an ideal sort of day I had. In the morning there was the job of checking the "Mongrel" main diagram. A year ago, I looked upon the diagram of the T-3 locomotives and wondered at the mind that put that together; "HSO" (H.S.Ogden) in the corner made me envy Ogden and wish that someday I might do the same things. That was a short year ago; today I am doing those very things I marveled at. And who knows but what in a few more short years if I play the game right, I shall be doing the things and having the responsibilities that today seem so far away.

But to return to Saturday, in the afternoon, Bredenberg, Brandenstein, Housden and I played some doubles, AB and I standing Brandy and Housden and trimming them. Afterward, I beat Frank a set of singles 6-4, pulling up from 2-4 in the hole. My tennis attitude doesn't quite satisfy me yet--not quite dignified nor sportsmanlike enough--not quite enough poise--not the playing of every point, of every stroke, for all one is worth. After our tennis, Willie, Frank and I went to the Peninsula and went swimming. It was glorious and I kicked myself mightily at not having taken advantage of the wonderful opportunity long ago. We met Mr. Webb out there and spent about an hour trying to dislodge and float a great log to play with. The blue sky, the calm sea, the clear water, the beaches stretching away--a romp with friends. And Saturday evening, we went out to Bill Cochran's to a bridge party. Bill is making good as the Erie Works welding specialist. He is married to a very attractive girl, "B" Cochran--something very beautiful is to shortly happen in their household, I believe. Dick and Ethel were there--a great couple. I like them both and so does Willie. I didn't realize when I first met Dick