Viewing page 44 of 48

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

Wed. Nov 3d, 1901
My dear Father-
My life here offers so much to better my art, that words cannot express the gratitude in my heart. I realize that of late my letters have been ineagre, it is because of "Mc's" illness. Yesterday he again became worse. The doctor says that it is only a slight relapse. But it means over a week more of nurses, and a delay in my return to the studio. How I shall appreciate the solace on my return. 
My health gives me no cause for worry. In fact I am much better, and have actually gained flesh. It is because McFerson's doctor requested that I take cod liver oil and a tonic. I do both, and suspect that soon even my beauty will change. The subject reminds me that I have just forwarded Robert some photos of us both. I requested him to forward them, but if he should fail I add they were fine types of beauty (the subjects
You notice the change in my hand writing. It is an attempt at perfection. I have taken this step in writing not because it would make things more readable, but because I am endeavoring to make my work more rational, perfect, or realistic, and feel, as it does not come (and it must) naturally, for me to [[strikethrough]] come near [[/strikethrough]] reach perfection, that I must try in all branches of life to aid the one important desire. I am professing to make it a habit to keep my hands clean, wear cuffs, and shall correctly, for arts sake. Don't discourage the diea. As yet this kind of living has not become a habit.
Miss Wells has just invited me to call again