Armonk, N. Y.

Dearest Mina,

Some time ago I wrote you a letter, and I lost it on the street. I wonder if you ever received it, if some kind soul put it in the letter box. It was written on the hospital stationary. Things are just about the same with us. Poor Theo is still in the city, his healing is very slow. Each week we think that he will be home in a few days, and then the wound opens up again, and the poor man is so discouraged. This is one of my days off, and I am entirely alone, which may not seem like a treat to you but it is like heaven for me. I do not know whether I wrote you in my letter that Paula our lovely cook has gone completely out of her mind. I had to send her away, but Carl is still here. She is with her brother in Brooklyn and they will not send her to a hospital. I think it is dangerous to let her live without the proper care, but you know how funny those people are about hospitals. I have argued with them for a week but to no avail.

I wish I could come up to visit you. I want to see you, but I feel caught in a web of unfortunate happenings. I am so bored with my life that I want to fly into the ether. The days at the hospital are just dreadful, and the trip back and forth so tiring. But Theo is miserable and lonely if we do not come in. I hope it will not be so very long now. Have you had the heat up your way? It has been fierce here. I wish we could get on a steamer and go off on a big spree for a few weeks.

Please read Tom's new story, "Death the Proud Brother," Like everything he does, it is over long and too lush, but much finer than the last one. I read it on the train coming home one day and could not control my weeping, I cried all night, the few passages about me were so poignant. His hand has always thrust me into an ocean of pain, what a terrible pity,

when there were always the elements of a wonderful life for us together.
People have always said, Live and learn, but I seem to live and wonder
more and more what the design is, why we are pulled out of the weave.
Well, we will never know.

The Goodman family have all read your book, and are just as enthusiastic as we are. Are you selling it, and how much money have you made. Mr Holiday said he thinks it will go on selling, will not just be a season book, I hope so. My own creative life seems to be in a state of abeyance. I am overlaid with a wad of cotton wool, slightly tinged with carbolic acid. My typing is still amateur, but I intend to practise every evening from now on. Your handsome pupil Mimi was here for dinner Thursday, with her母. I think the old lady is wonderful, grotesque but interesting for a short time. I have seen no one at all, I don't ask anyone for dinner because we are all so tired when night comes, that we can't think of anything to say. I am going to a party at Norman Gedde's on Thursday and I intend to get drunk, and raise Hell. I hope I don't just get sick.

The Elmer Rices have asked me to go to Mexico with them the end of June, but I am afraid I cannot leave home for so long. For years now you have listened to my wailings about no work, but this time it looks like the truth. There is literally no prospect of anything, and as usual I have spent all my last year's money.

My delphineum look sick, and we are going to start a million new
ones. This is a bad garden year in Westchester, a great many pests.
But I am glad to say that the works of William Shakespere are still a
vailable, also the poetry of Keats and DonneI am literally wallowing
in Hamlet, I feel as though I had never read it before.

Write me soon like an angel. Are you ever coming down?

Love,

[1941 Jan. 17]

Armonk, N. Y.

Dear Mina:

Here is news; our pretty Mrs. Benjamin has gone to Hollywood to write for the pictures. She left last night at midnight, by plane, and t hereby hangs a tale. The whole affair was so sudden that I hardly know where I am. She was sent for by a director at Paramount who liked her last b ook, she is going to write some snappy dialogue for a picture already in the making, I believe, andyway it is like a dream , a lot of telegrams went back and forth, and she is now set at four hundred bucks a week, o boy o boy o boy, maybe I may should not have told you the price. Coin cident with same, Ralph Ing. is going to Russia on behalf of his paper, he sails from San Francisco Friday, and she had to make the midnight plane last night in order to see him off , or what you will. He worked awfully hard to get her on his own plane but could not, and at only t en last night did we know that s he had a seat on a plane. We dashed out to the flyingx La Guardia field, and put her on board. I said to her it was like a movie and she said nobody would believe it, they wouldn't do one like it . I never put t hrough such a day in my life as I put through yesterday,my own life with Mr W. seems like lying down in a field of daisies. "id you ever kn ow anything like the danger of life these days? What courage it takes to go to Russia. When we drew up at the airport, a police car came along spilling out a crowd of cops, and we didn't know what to make of it, and the newspaper photographers were all over like mosquitoes. Well, it was the German consuls she had on the plane with herr. That was the last corn y touch.They are going to Japan, drat them,I bet they have a lovely time there.

The pale sad color, by contrast , of my life goes on. I'm working like hell to get things done, what for god in hea ven only knows, Herman is determinded to make me into a playwright,

right, it will do him good. He should be doing something else though for
the nation.

I have to go to the dentist for a bad filling. B abbit is away,
he's been sick. I go to his assistant . I won der if you will be in t own
before you go on your holiday. Will you let me know? H ow's your eaah big
Chaucer b eau? I think he is none t oo understanding, the only evidence is
that he cares for you, I mean the evidence of any un derstanding. He seemed
otherwise concerned with unrealities. Maybe you can teach him a lesson.
but why?

We've had our lessons, old lady what ?

Love.

A rmonk, N. Y.

Dearest Mina:

I was glad to get your dard, it sounds as though you are
doing something good. I think you have such courage to go out there on
your own and start something new, and I'm anxious to know how it comes
out. I just managed to get your address from Mrs Benjamin other wise
would have written sooner. I seem to have fallen into a sort of back-
water
max of life, so still and so quiet up here. I sometimes don't open
my mouth all day except to eat, and that alas I do too much of, it is
the only pastime here abouts. I go to town only once a week, there is
nothing much to take me there, and Edla is not around a lot, and all
my friends are in the same fix for driving fuel, so here we are. But
some
as the kids say, it's omaxwind that don't blow nobody around, and I'm
getting a lot of work done, whether it is any good or not is another
thing. It has been a glorious spring, the b,lossoms were superb, and
the flowering trees and shrubs. My Iris b ed however is a flop, Poland
had a sort of frenzy last fall, and cleaned it out, cleaning out most
of the iris." e have Had a week of rain following the drought, and it
is enough.

Edla write you that Susie gave birth to an ten puppies,
only six of them survived but they are six of the sweetest things
you ever saw. And she is a good mother. Mina is haughty about it, but
goes in to see them every chance she gets. Mr Loeb is very proud of the
output, his doggy is the papa. We went for out regular summer dinner
party to Loeb's last Saturday. They are usually pretty bad, but this
one waws enlivened by an event. Mr Loeb rose when the wine was passed
and proposed a toast to Joe St alin, Which every one got up and drank
to, would you believe it?Of course they all realize what Joe is doing
for them ,but imagine what a right about face it is for them. My only
other social activitie was to kax lunch with Sigrid Undset at Knopf's

She is a magnificent and fascinating person. she did not drink a toast to Stalin, she thought Russia was a cess pool when she came through last year. But they certainly are doing the stuff, and there must be a lot to what they live by.

I went to the city last night to see Eva opening in a new play. It was good, a thriller, and her acting was fine, one of the best things she has done. I don't know what sort of notices she got, we get the papers here before the theatre news goes to press. I stayed in all night, went to Sardi's afterwards, and enjoyed seeing all my old faded, t-shirtbare, wan looking buddies. I miss the bastards and sometimes get a long-ing to be with them again. But some of that has gone from me. Herman has left for the coast, I miss him faithfully, I'm afraid he has gone for a long time. It all makes me feel tossed up onto something. I wish I was more interested in country life. Broadway, my own Broadway is almost pitch black, New York is like another place. The lights on that street are unessential, something outside of a necessity, but so much part of a life. Well, it will come back, but just imagine what will have to go on before the lights go up on Broadway again.

Edla's beau spends quite a lot of time with us, week ends. He seems awfully nice and is certainly crazy about her, I only hope it will do her some good. He is really fine to talk to and I think he is good. We have not heard from Ben Wasson since he left weeks ago. He is probably in Australia. Do you think things look a little better with the war? I still think it will take years to beat them, and then what? They will be beaten, and that is the thing, but we'll all be beaten too, that sounds so bad but I don't mean it to. Write to me there's a good girl. if you can, if only a card again. I'm sure you are going to pull off something wonderful. Love as always,

Brmonk, N. Y.

Min a dear,

It is swell to hear from you and here I am answering you right bang off; and here is the reason, in a way, for I'm laid up in bed with a broken ankle, which I foolishly broke falling off my stone steps a couple of weeks ago. I had a bad time for a while because the ligaments were very badly torn, and it cannot be put into a cast yet, but thank god I can use this machine. I feel better today, and hope the worst is over. I write all day, and read all night, and listen to death and destruction over the radio.

Y our life sounds extraordinary; and I am glad you are at it that way. As you say, it is like the soldiers, like most of the population of the world outside of this country. We have all of us been so lapped in the aesthetics, in the kind of beautiful surroundings and foods and luxuries, maybe it is not so bad to do without for a while, if only we knew they would come again. I have talked so much to the boys at the canteen, and they tell me that, they miss the things they used to have around them, only I wish you had some good food, are you getting thinner, or are you filling up on starch Well, I'm a good one to talk, here I am in my pink bedroom, with flowers all around, and wonderful eats, and everything any one could wish; but I wish I could come out and see that country, how little any of us here know about those parts. I hope you are going to get along with your radio, isn't it strange what happens when a lot of people have to do with something, it always suffers the modification of the numbers who work on it, a little bit off for everyone. It rarely works the other way.

I brought up a lot of books but they are almost read out, keeping books enough on hand is hard; but my daddy always used to say have you read all the works of William Sakespere, if you have, read them again. Staying still is an ordeal for me as you well know, but maybe that will be good for me, too.

You never saw such darling doggies as Susie's pups, they are just beginning to walk around, and she is the best mother you ever saw. Mina will have none of them, she turns her head to the wall when they are brought

into the room, she sulks by the hour about them; but maybe when they are a
little bigger wheshe will notice them. She is an elegant old party, mush
the way Hedda was. Of course it is almost impossible to have any company
because of the haulage. ?We have just enough gas to take our folks to and
from the station to the trains, and no extra trips. People come up week
ends occasionally; so many of my friends have scattered and gone away. Aline
Mac is still on the coast, and I guess Herman is there for a long time; the
Linders are in Washington for the duration. So are a lot of Teddy's young
partners. Your young man, the composite heartbreaker, sounds more than
special, are you going to wrap him up and take him home? Or has he been
snapped up? I pity you the heat; we could do with a little, it has been cold
as can be here for weeks, one warm day, the fourth if July; do you remember
you were here for that holiday last year with the Linders? Doesn't Smith
College seem awfully far away to you? You know it seemed unreal to me that
last time¹ was up there, maybe it was the strange little house, and all the
new faces that were there at your party; I liked that party though. Only if
all seemed disconnected from the former things that were there.

Edla is going down to Washington tomorrow for a long week end,
she has been such an angel waiting on me and I am glad she is going for a
change of scene and of faces. I could so with same, isn't it funny that I
lead such a fixed life now, after all my batting around. Well, it has it's
good features, very good ones; and I don't know but what I like it. Only
¹ feel as though I could have some new and different kind of explorings,
down into something.

It was fine to hear from you, do it again when you can,
it will cheer me up no end to get a letter, and I'm happy you are working
and making it by yourself. Love as ever,

Alene

I West 84th St.

Dearest Mina:

We went to the country this weekend, it was the first day of spring so far as Armonk was concerned, Sunday was perfect. The violets are out by thousands in the orchard, I sat down under one of the big apple trees and I cried because I remembered one day soon after Harry died, you and I went to Ashfield together, and you found some violets in a sheltered spot in the woods, do you remember? It was the first time you had gone there after his death. I should not write this to you I guess but it made me feel so close to you that if I were not so deaf I would have telephoned to you. Now today it is cloudy and cold again, but it cannot last forever. We had expected to move up for the summer this week, but the men are so busy they will not be able to commute, and it is too dreary to leave them here to go out to restaurants for their dinner. I do not know how they are going to keep up this pace of work. The market is big, and they are so understaffed. I hate to miss the early flowers, and the blossoms, but I do not want to go and leave them, they really are homebodies.

Edla came up, she looks well and I hope she is as happy as she can be under the circumstances. Everybody's life is mixed up these days. But I seem to remember that I always thought so, I remember that I thought my own life took the prize for being mixed up. Now I wonder how it ever happened. But it was good, in it's way. Have you seen Mr. Wolfe's letters to his ma? I had a present of the book from kerkins, and I have just this minute finished the introduction which gave me a pain somewhere. I've read a few of the letters, he wrote well even at a very early age. Aswell told me the letters have been terribly cut and edited, all the horrid things he wrote the old lady naturally have been deleted, and I wonder what they would say if they ever came across a few honies I have somewhere that she wrote him. The whole thing is painful, but maybe I am too sensitive about it. Did I tell you that I finally saw her? Oh yes I remember I did. Now for a piece of real important news, I had my hair all cut off short, all around, and I look odd, to say the least. The family like it, but I do not, I never would have had it done if I had not thought I would go to the country.

My mind is duller than ever, which is going some. I am trying to write, just finished a piece for the week. Writer's War Board, it isn't very good but they think it will do. Now they want me to write speeches for people to speak, is that odd? I guess I might as well try. I don't know why I go on writing to you in this dull and stupid way, I really felt that I had been with you yesterday. I wouldn't mind being dull if only I was dull all the way through, but there seems to be a lively core within that doesn't like what is going on.

But it will get better I'm sure, in the country. I have a longing to go to the seashore, but I guess that is out of the question. I really had my hair cut off because I wanted to change myself some way, it is the sort of feeling that used to send us travelling to Europe.

We put in 500 tulips and only nine of them came up, the rest have not even come into leaf, and we cannot find out what is wrong. Malin says maybe its moles. It certainly was a cruel winter all round, I don't see how anything survived up your way. The most interesting thing I can say is that I saw Oklahoma and I think it is one of the best shows I ever saw, did you see it? It is just what you want, of a show, and the De Mille Ballet in it is exquisite. Now please write to me a little bit if only a card, I hope my dear that you are a little more peaceful than you have been this winter, it has been a bad time for you; the worst of it is that the bad times last so long. Maybe later on when you finish your show that you are doing I can come up, if ever I can settle things in the country. I'm afraid Elisabeth and I are going to do the work together, I can't get another maid for anything. All of us in the same boat, I guess. I have a beautiful light gray suit, hat to match, and I look nice but too god dam mature in it. The tailor kept telling me it brought out the lovely gray in my hair.

Love,

Armonk, N.Y.

Dearest Mina:

We moved up yesterday and I have so much to do that I thought I would sit down and write to you instead of doing my duty by the house. It is in a mess, and I have only Elisabeth to help, but expect to have a half witted local to do some chores later. The one thing that obhers me most in the driving, we cannot get anybody in the shape or even the suggestion of a man,and it gives me an odd feeling to know I can't move. The place looks lovely, in spite of no sun. A great many things have been winter killed, as they have all over. our wonderful yellow roses at the entrance looked absolutely dead but a few shoots have appeared at the roots today. It is wonderful to be here, and I hope I will have time to myself to write this year. The last few weeks in town were full of a sort of useless activity, maybe it was not useless, as I did a lot for the Union and I was offered the nomination of Vice President, but declined. If it only did not take so much time, I might have taken it, for my election was sure, but I could not feel that tied down.

Edla will only be able to come up week ends and I will miss her a lot. She hears from Peter with great regularity, and he just sent his photo taken in his new Leutenants uniform, tailored in London, and it looks very snappy. He sure is in love with th at girl. I wonder if you will ever come down? I guess that if you do you will not be able to come to us even for a minute. We have had the dining room repainted, also my room, and I was a nervous wreck trying to get it the same lovely colors. But the poor painter almost had a break down over it, and he wonders how my old man has stood me all these years, if I am so damn particular, that is what he said. But it looks fine, and he had to admit the result was good. I found a wonderful amethyst quilt up in the attic and I am making curtains for the dining room out of it and you never saw anything so scrumptious. Only I need another amethyst quilt for the other window do you have one you would like to sell?

I just read Tom's letters and I like them, I think they show good feeling and a lot of the sort of loving quality that I knew in him and that a lot of people never even heard of. Some day if you are interested I will show you his letters to me, I had them typed last year, some of them are really wonderful. I hope you are deep in nature, the flowers and the place that you love, it is a great salve to the soul.I hope that in a littel while I will be rid of the awful stale feeling that has had me down these past few weeks. I wihs I could come up to see you, maybe later when I can get the household going. I really need a second maid but it seems almost impossible.

I wonder if in all your browsings among books you have come across a book, ( now don' t laugh) called How to Write a Play , bu a Hungarian named Lajos Egri. It is facinating, I liked it so much that I looked him up, and found that he has been giving some classes so I went to a few before we came up. It was an experience, he is the most extroardinary person, and I hated to leave. Ask at your library if they have the book, you will enjoy it. I had lunch in town last week with Dean Thompson of Vassar, we seem to be each other's pashes, and I think I will go there to teach irregularly next year, that is just what I mean. I will go up during certain periods when they are working on productions, about five sessions a year, and I think it will wrok out well. They are a good lot there now, and I think they can make something wonderful . I will like it better than going way up to Bennington, and I h ave a strange urge to tell the young WANKKIXX what the artist's life is like. Write to me soom Mina, much much love,

Armonk, N.Y.

Dear Mina:

I wonder how things march with you. Here is whatever there
is of family news, the U.W.I having folded certain branches, Mrs. Cusikk
is out of a job and en route to visit a friend in Nantucket. My own days
are so much alike that sometimes I wonder where I am in time. The only
way I know the difference is by what flowers are out and what vegetables
we get to eat. We are alas just over the delphinium, and they were too
beautiful, there is now a lull until some of the annuals bloom. We are
suffering our annual attack of too much spinach and not quite too many
green peas, and the family canner Miss Frankau is going to stay home
tomorrow and can string beans. She has had a bad cold but is better.

I wonder did your old office go out of business along with Edla's?
Edla does not know just what she is going to do and I am glad that she
has gone for a few days, she has not gone yet but will this evening.
She is so discouraged poor dear, and she just got a raise in salary.
You cannot imagine how quiet it is here, I guess it is just as quiet
in Ashfield. Literally not a soul comes by, I enjoy the days but I am
fidgetty at night. The folks come home pretty tired, and go to bed right
after dinner, and I just don't know where to put my high spirits.

I finally got a second maid, a fine old fashioned Irish girl,
as I write this it seems to me that I have written it all to you before,
if I have, stop me. Anyway, she adores to work and it is nice not to
have to help along and that is a wickd thing to say in these hard
times. I wonder do you get food up your way? There is littel to be had
here, and sometimes Teddy stops at Washington Market and hauls some home.

I'm trying to write a book and it is depressing how hard I have to work for not very good results. If I can do it it will be good, but I don't know, one thing I know is how far I am from being a genius. It is such aghnony to pick things out of nowhere, sometimes I wish I had dedicated myself to a social and domestic life, I don't know what ever got into me to try the other things. I win some of some good fighting, maybe I will go round doing speeches for the theatre wing next year. I just finished the Eve Curie book and liked it a lot, she has given a warm and lasting picture of the bit of Russia that she saw and the alien people; the Chinese part was interesting too, but she didn't think a lot of the Britons in India, did she. Will they ever find a solution for India?

All of this leads up to would you like me to come up later on for a few days, just a little while? I'm really needed here, I do so much, and as you know housekeeping is not so easy. Maybe some time in August, will you still be there? Think about it, and so will I and maybe that is as far as we will get. I'm going to the city tomorrow to have lunch with Perkins, maybe he'll buy me a steak, stranger things have happened. I win some of how you are, I have a longing to talk to you today and if it were not for my deaf ears I would call you up, but maybe you are off at the college doing good. Did I tell you I'm going to be at Vassar next year? Five sessions during the school year, four days each, or more if I like. It frightens me, because I know I can talk to them for a while but I don't know how I can sustain it. Still, there is so much to say about the theatre, and they all love it and so do I when it comes down to it.
Love, as ever,

Armonk, N.Y.

Dearest Mina,

It seems terrible that I did not see you while you were in town,
and while you were sick, as you must have been. It is a nuisance to be sick,
and that is putting it mild. Edla told me she had spoken to you and that the
doctor finally thinks it is gaul trouble. That is a nuisance too. If you have
a minute, let me know how things go, and if you can come down again. Maybe I
can run up for a few days soon, the trains will not be so crowded now. Peter
left on Saturday, Edla is here, and waiting anxiously by the telephone for a
cable from him. I think the weather has not been any too good at sea, and he
may be stranded for a while at Iceland or one of those cheery spots. She is
sad, there are so many sad young women, but I think these few weeks with him
have done a great deal for her.

There is nothing to write you but my thoughts, which are confused. I've
reached a dead spot in my work, and will spend some of it making grape juice
this afternoon; meanwhile I have an idea for a food article, about things
served in ring form, and maybe I will do that. I am sorry you were not able
to see the place this year, it has never been so lovely. I have been awfully
sad about Hartley's death, it seemed so wicked, when after a 11 the years, he
had finally got some money and the recognition he deserved. I am glad that you
came to meet him last spring, he was a most amazing person and one of the purest
I ever knew; when you think how long he kept on, year after year, with not
one spot of surrender, and growing more wonderful all the time, no bitterness
and no cruelty. That is a record to live by.
I sold Tom's letters to a man
down in New Orleans named Wm. B. Wisdom, with the proviso that they go directly
to Harvard. I decided not to sell them, but to give them to Harvard, and I
told him that, so he wrote and begged to buy them and said they would go at
once to Harvard, no doubt with all the other things he has of Toms. The check is
going to Federation, without touching me, and I am pleased in my own perverse
way, about it, and I am sure if Tom is anywhere where chuckling is allowed, he

S

Mrs. Mina Curtiss
R.F.D. Williamsberg

Mass

I West 64th St.

Dearest Mina:

I just received your secretary's note, and it gave me a shock
to find that you had your operation, and I was not able to be there with you
at the time. This is a hell of a business that I am in and the private life
of anybody concerned with it is the last consideration in the world. In any
case, your secretary wrote me that the doctor xxxxxxxx assured her that
every thing was all right. I know you have a tough time ahead of you, with
pain and a gravitation, and I wish I knew some way to make it easier. I just
called Edla to tell her, and she sends you all of her love. I know you will
not want to read a lot this minute, and this is just to tell you I have
the news about you. We will call the hospital some time soon, whenever Edla
is here, and find out how things are going.

I am off to my first dress parade this morning and I am nervous as a cat.
The Theatre Guild, what there is left of it, will be there with their prodding
forks and frying pans, and it takes a lot of self respect to stand up against
that rather tasteless crowd; but my stuff is very nice indeed, and I have
enjoyed doing it no end. The opening has been postponed three times, which
eats up my time. Anyway Mina, be good as you always are, and I will see you
the very first minute that my feet are free from Broadway.

Yours always,

[1943 Nov 10]

I We t 64th St

Dearest Mina:

I was so happy to have the note from your secretary today, and
believe me this is the first time in days that I have been able to sit down
to write. We have had one of those 96 hour rehearsal bouts, I hardly left the
theatre Saturday and Sunday, and Monday which was yesterday. We had our first
preview last night fx with an audience that seemed to be made of soggy blot
ting pape r, and every body was sunk. I did not go near the theatre today, I
couldn't stand all the reactions. I think the play will be all right when tht
they to pull the first act together, strangely enough it grows stronger and
better toward the end. There are some devastating scenes in it, and Flo Meyer'
husb and Homolka is a wonder. The children in it are incredibly fine, and
O boy the costume s! I have a scene where they look like little American
primitives. There is such fine, vital stuff in the play that I am sure it will
come through.They are having a series of these previews all week, and I hope
it does not wear the actors out. Thayx I have had a wonderful time doing
it, and do not feel so tired as usual, only very very stale.

I am sure you are having a wretched time, only your young lady writes
that you are interested in food, which is not too bad a sign. I wish I could
send some up to you. We are having better and better meals at home, and once
in a while I get a chance to cook, but not often these days, for we have a
second maid this year, and cooking is her hobby; so when Eli,abeth is out she
entrenches herself in the kitchen and hits things up, she is good at it too.
I just received a parcel with the hat that you sent, it is magnificent, was
it your ma 's? Thank you. I have to go up to Poughkeepsie this week, I have

I West 64th St. 23

Dearest Mina:

I hope that by now you are out of the hospital and in your more pleasant quarters at the hotel. I had some notices of our play saved for you, but by a mischance they were thrown away before I had chance to write to you. The play is not a success, although it held high promise. It only goes to show what a lottery the whole business is, in spite of the wise guys who run it. Some people like it a lot, others not at all, and strangely enough Theo loves it. The notices were either good, or bad. I had good ones all along the line, and my one regret is that you will probably not see it, for my sake, It is the flowering of what I have learned for many years, a combination of reality and fantasy. The execution of my ideas was something too difficult, you never would believe the work that went into it. But on the whole, I had a fine time, and came to know Homolka quite well, he has that wonderful artistry that you find only in European male actors, it was a pleasure to work with him, and contrary to expectations, he was never for a moment difficult. I started last week to do a little number for Arthur Hopkins and it is going to be a headache from start to finish, it is a bad play, no money to do it right (just as well not to waste it) but I promised him once in a large hearted moment that I would do something for him some day when he needed me, so here it is.

I am disappointed that you are going to stay in Boston this winter. But maybe later you will come down for a while to N.Y.. As my yea rs increase, so seem my hours to shorten, I never have enough time to get in my work, that is, the things I would like to do. I often wish I had a sort of single purpose or single track mind, I wish I only wanted to write or to paint, and never thought of food, or clothes, or fun, or furniture or china. Then maybe I would get somewhere. I would like to paint a picture of the inside of my mind, with all the nonsense of female persuasion that goes on in it.

We went to a fine party that was given for Homolka after the show, in a

magnificent modern house on the east side. The whold top floor was one big
room it just suited me, you know how I like that kind of spaciousness. I had
Henry J. Kaiser as a supper partner and he is lots of fun, he wore a blue din
ner suit. We had a good time but I did not come home with a diamond necklace.
Nor mink. I guess those days have gone by for me, I might have cashed in once
upon a time. Did I write to you that I had sold Tom's letters and sent the
money to Federation? I guess I must have told you, it is such a wonderful
joke. I never touched the money but had the check sent in Memory of
Thomas Wolfe, and any day now I expect he'll descend in a cloud and hurl a
flame at me. Max is so amused at it, he keeps calling up and laughing over
the telephone. I had lunch with Herman Shulman this week, he is glum as
ever but wonderful and I love him. Lillian's film is a success but every one
I see says it stinks, I did not mean to write that it slipped out. She is a
smart girl all right and I wish I had half of it.

Every one in New York is tired. But it looks wonderful on the street,
now that the dim out has let up, the streets are more crowded than ever,
there is no place for your feet on the sidewalk. I wish you could see the
Othello, or did you? It is magnificent, not completely so, but better
than any other I ever saw. The Iago is a masterpiece. All my friends are
scattered. I just had a letter from Bella Swack, s he is writing for R.
K.O. and will soon join Sam in Moscow. A line is there, and so is Irene
Sharaff, who has just signed a three year contract to remain. Lillly Wadsworth
hads a very sick husband and can never come to town. And poor Lee Simonson
is in a state again and I am afraid it is all up with him. I see him a lot
and today it was more than I could take.

I wish you would come to N.Y. Maybe what's his name won't pan out, but
there are few if any men here. I kind of fantasy about having every one
together again, a big fine party, and I wish dear Peter was here.

I love you Mina as always,

ST

Mrs. Mina Curtiss

Ritz Carlton Hotel

Boston

17

Mass

I West 64th St.

Dearest Mina:

It is good to get your letters, and on such nifty stationary.
So please excuse this yellow paper, I would have to get up and go into the
front room to get more, and I don't feel up to it. I have been battling all
day with fittings on females, and I could spit fire. I hope this is my last
for a while. We thought at first the how would open in Boston, and I would
get a free ride, but the transportation problems are so great that we have to
stay in New York and open cold, and Boston is not going to miss much, the
only one who misses anything is me. And you.

I met your brother Lincoln the other day in his uniform and he is a handsome sight to see, I could not get much out of him however about his life. I had to go to talk to a committee at the Modern museum about something, and he was there. He has a strange life, I must say I don't know much about it, but it impresses me as the most unfulfilled life, he should have had a special talent for some one thing; maybe he could have been a painter if he had stuck to it. But I guess the world of culture, or whatever you want to call it, must have just such people as Lincoln to shove it along. The whold bunch over there at the museum never seem quite complete, in their roles. But they have done the most interesting museum job in the city.

Excuse the tear in the paper, something seems to be wrong with this machine.

Ethel has developed a bad case of flue, and it worries me sick. She is so frail physically, so strong in the spirit. We cannot get a nurse, but it seems that no one can in this town except for surgical cases. I hope that her fever will break today sometime, she is having medicine for it.

Lee is rapidly going to pieces, and we are trying our best to help him but I think we are wasting our time. I was with him three hours yesterday and I was sick when I left him, he is so apparently the victim of his own faults and nature. I don't know why, in this vale of tears, with all the

real suffering there is in the world, one should go on trying to nurse along
what in the long run is a third rate human being, unless one does it for
conscience sake. The self motive enters into these things, always. As for
me, I would like to cry and sulk on my mother's breast, that is a poem of
Blake.

I have been neglecting my charges at Poughkeepsie, but I am going
to give them a whole week the 10th of Jan. on. They are then going to
 tackle the Tempest, and I find I have to do a lot of study on some *XXXXXXXX*
Theo is wise to the Tempest, he has been studying it for two yea rs, and
is going to give me lessons, is n't that wonderful? Isn't that life?
Something went wrong w th spelling there. He is putting me through the paces
tomorrow. With notes. Would you like to read a wonderful
book called How to write a Play? If you would like it, I will send it to
you. It is re a lly a book about how to write a play, by a Hungarian
named Egri, I have looked him up and he is wonderful.

Now Mina please keep well and take care of yourself, I wish you were
working on something solid. Maybe teaching is so mething solid. Since
starting this Shumlin has telephoned me and told me I was too good for cos-
tu me designing, but then what? Cooking, maybe that's the answer.

Love,

ALINE BERNSTEIN

Armonk, N.Y.

Dearest Mina:

Edla and I are both concerned that we have not heard from or about you for such a long time. Either you are busy, or in a mood, or having an affair, and I hope maybe it is the last. Or I wonder how your mother is? We go along in a quiet way, I manage to do some work each day, but as you know there is a lot else to do in a place like this. I finally got a nother maid, at an exorbitant figure, and it gives me a little peace in that department, and I must say I like it. It seemed to take me weeks to get the household in any sort of comfortable order, and god only knows how long it will last. We have some visitors but not anything like former times, can't get the provisions. Now the garden is starting, and it will help, we had our first spinach last night and the peas are coming along.

The kid is growing, twice a day it seems, he is like a different baby, very manly indeed, and lots of fun. Edla I think is pretty tired and we want her to get off for at least a week somewhere. You have no idea what it is like taking full charge of a baby, it takes about 48 hours a day. He's a good little boy, I can't imagine what it would be like if he wasn't. She seems to like her job though. Maybe Peter will be back this month for a fix visit, we have heard something to that effect, and she loves the sea so maybe then can manage it. I go to the city seldom, I guess I'm getting old. I love the comfort of the country and my old clothes and old shoes, I have to go about once a week for museum work, there is so much business which I do none too well. Since our merger with the Metropolitan I seem to be sixed with a lot of responsibility. Thursday next I am to be appointed President of our own museum, known now as the Costume Institute, which will take place at a meeting of the directors at luncheon. Can you imagine?

ALINE BERNSTEIN

I bet my papa would have laughed to see it. I don't want it but it seems to be the only thing to do at present. Maybe we can find some one else soon. I'm fat as a pig, I get no exercise at all, and not the right food for slimming.

I got my little girl's book finished, it was more fun to do than anything I ever tried. If it is a success, I am going to do a couple more, the next about Harriet Beecher Stowe, and can you suggest any more? Do you think Pocohontas would be fun? I could do her as an Indian and at the court of Elizabeth.

Our place looks divine, the delphinium is out today, and a huge bowl is on the dining room table; it is unbelievable, in that pale blue room. What do you hear from Lincoln? I dreamt about him last night.

I may go over to stay a few days with Terry in a week or so. Eva wants me to do her name play but I refused, they want to start on it in July, but I can't face the city in the heat, and I have a piece of writing I want to do. I had a piece in the April Theatre arts about craftsmen in the theatre, and yesterday I had a letter from a boy on Okinawa who wrote and asked how he could get to be a scenic designer. Can you beat it?

***

It goes on, the theatre passion, no matter where or how.

Write to me Mina, I miss you, any chance of you coming down?

Love as always,

[1945 Sep 30]

ALINE BERNSTEIN

Armonk, N.Y.

Dearest Mina:

I think of you, and wish that this lovely afternoon you would appear suddenly from the road and that we could sit down glass in hand and have a talk. It is the most beautiful day, it is four o'clock in the afternoon and I am still up in my work room. Peter got out of the army yesterday, and the whole little family have gone to the city for Michael to have his monthly check up by his doctor. He has grown too enormous, and is so strong that Edla thinks of getting a male attendant for him.

I have a magnificent new north window up here, it overlooks the garden and pleases me no end. I don't know what it does for my writing though, that goes slower than molasses. I think I need to go off on a binge somewhere. I'm fat as a pig, and it is very unbecoming and the minute I get back to town I will go have a bout with Greta.

Everything is starting up in the theatre in town and I wonder if I am an idiot that I am not working. But somehow I couldn't face it this year. I read in the paper that Jack is going to do a show. There was never such activity, the theatres will give out soon.; or we will have to build a new stage some new ones. I wish I had a theatre of my own and could do just what I please in it. Then I remember all the terrible tempers and falsenss and the egos and the unsatisfied little people a nd I never want to see a theatre again. I wonder if you have heard the Theatre Guild of the air? 'hey started last Sunday night, they are going to do all their old plays and I think it is a wonderful idea, only what in Terry and Lawrence to do with their money? Where do they go from here? Where do any of us go as a matter of fact?

Are you coming down to live in New York at all this winter ? I wish you would for a little while anyway. I hope things are not too bad with your mother, I think of her too, and wish there was some way to ease this awful disease. You know my own mother had it, and suffered horribly before

ALINE BERNSTEIN

she passed away. With all the science in this world, it seems to me there is
more sickness than ever, maybe not the same, but new forms.

I

Mina, do you think the world will ever straighten out? Do you think
any one will ever find a way to do it? All they want is ice boxes and cars
and steak, but do you hear any one say I'm going to be a better boy? All of
this sounds kind of sad and discouraged, god knows why. But I do get in the
dumps like I used to, only in the old days I had a fellow or two to go to a
bar with, were n't the speakeasies wonderful. I can't drink much any more,
anyway.

Aren't you working on the Proust letters? It's hard to work in the
country isn't it, so much to look at. I wish you could see the baby, he
is a little boy, not a baby at all, and the brightest dearest thing. He is
a time consumer, I had forgotten how wonderful they are to watch. His father
is bowled over by him. Edla is looking lovely, you will be pleased when you
see her. I guess there is no one to drive this old lady up to see you, even
with all the gas in the world. Write to me soon.

Love,

[1945 Aug 27]

ALINE BERNSTEIN

Armonk, N.Y.

Dearest Mina:

I too, have been thinking a lot of you, and I have intended to write to you every day. Our life has been more or less hectic. Peter came home Tuesday night on the Queen Mary, and he has been chasing back and forth like mad down to various camps to see about getting out of the army. He now has a month's leave then he hopes to be out. It isn't easy for any of them, it has been a strain for Edla, and even for the baby. But we are glad to have them all together now as a family. He is very tired, and will rest up a bit. I have been thinking these last few days about how many times this has been repeated all over the world. He adores Edla and well he may, she is the most wonderful young woman. You never saw anything so fine as the way she takes care of her child, how ca lm and skillful she is, and how sweet and humorous. He is a dear little boy, and shows her care in every way ; he is really a beautiful child to look at.

I wish I could see you, and be with you for a few days. I seem to be caught here in an invisible net, there is so much to do, and now that the house is full the housekeeping is no joke. We find it none too easy to get food up in this little town, but the garden yields is superb. Dinners I seem to manage, but feeding seven or eight for lunch is almost more than I can cope with. We Last week I nearly gave up when every one was home almost every day but Friday/. We do managed ( god almighty what is wrong with my typing today?) to get fish down at White Plains, and that eases things up although the help doesn't like it. I am going to write a piece about domestic help some day and get it off my chest, they are much more pampered than dukes and dutcheses, earls and marquises. All the while my book is trying to get written. I have just had a big new window cut in the north wall of my workroom, and it is magnificent. I never had enough light and air up here, and it looks out over the garden which is lovely for me.

ALINE BERNSTEIN

How dreadful for your mother; how dreadful for all of you to know about her
sickness, and know what it is going to mean to her, it is almost worse for
a person of her great strength. I'm glad the boys will be back. I guess
there will be no easy road now for George, what will he do? Well, maybe he
will find a good girl for himself, there must be some fine ones left in this
country. I have thought of him often since I saw him in Boston Last winter.
I hope all will work out for him and I am sure it will, he is a fine man.
I guess Lincoln will always be all right, as all right as his nature will al-
low, he has his talents to draw on. I wihs that you were getting along with
the rroust letters, but I guess it is almost impossible to do anything with
this worry on your mind.

Our garden has been wonderful also, and I got new glads from
Howardillet, and I literally go into fits over them. I have some wonderful
silver
whites, and thereis a huge dish full of them on the dining room table today.
The house lookes beautiful this year, it has taken on a fine tone. We also
have some of those little dahlias, they surely are a prize package. La st
Thursday we did up 500 ears of corn, some frozen, some in glass jars, by my
sister Ethel, the wonder canner. We have the freezer full and last week Teddy
bought
bouwk another. I'm nuts about the frozen vegetables. I guess it is the
household that has me bound up here; but I don't think I could manage it with
out my sister; she is so clever and reasonable. She is writing a cook book
that will be a honey.

I turned down a lot of shows last month and it looks as though I would
not do any more for some time, not until I get the damn book finished. I
sometimes feel very sorry for myself, thinking all of the things I am miss-
ing, the fun and the nastiness and worry, but outside of my book, I don't
think I can take it any more. As time goes on, I want more and more to lead
a physically quieter life; I cannot tell you now I love to be up here alon e,
particularly now that I have my new window. Still, I miss something, and once

ALINE BERNSTEIN

in a while I get this awful longing for the gutter, so to speak. I miss the
actual designing, too, for I think it is part of my being. Well, I've had
a wonderful time, and I must have my good times now in a different way.

I think that Edla and Peter will want to live in the country for
the baby. He has the feel of it now, when the weather is fine we take off all
his clothes and he crawls around on the grass, and laughs his head off; he
is a great laugher, out loud, like a man almost. Anyway, there is a lot to do
for them, they have really had no married life together, only snatches of
it. She seems to love him a lot, and there is nothing better than that. I am
very very fond of him. What do you know about Ralph Ingersoll being married?
I k now the girl very well indeed, her father worked with us in our museum
for four years, just went back to live in New Orleans again where they come
from. I was never more surprised in my life. She is a very interesting person,
and has made a success of herself on Life; but I wonder what it is about
her that finally made the grade. He was all but married to another, when she
got him. Well, life is odd enough, god knows. I like Elaine a great deal, and
hope it will work out for her.

Mina, some day we will meet; I wish I had not been a fool in my
youth, I was foolish enough to listen to my family when they urged me not to
learn to drive a car. I would like to get into one and drive up to you today
if only for a high ball.

Love, as always,

GRANTEE

Mrs. Harry Curtiss
R.F.D. Williamsburg

Ma ss.

1 West 64th St. N.Y. 23

Dearest Mina:

I had a fine quiet week end in the country, but like a fool I did not take your address with me, and so you got no letter. What do you think? Edla and Peter and Michael came up to the country for the New Year week end, and did it make old grandma feel good. I never had such fun, I was really allowed to hold him for quite a while, in fact he fell asleep in my arms while his mother took a nap. Mainboher and Rollard were there with us for the week then Aline and Clarence Stein came up for the week end and the house was pretty full. We drank a toast to you and I wanted to call you up but the operator said she was trying to keep the lines from Armonk to White Plains free for soldiers calls. I was somewhat of a week when we came home, it took a lot of planning for meals and housework, as things are not too plentiful. Our deep freezer is a boon, we never could have managed without. I never ate anything as good as the fruits and begetables. We also had put down a turkey and some chickens, and some meat from time to time. Our Armonk butcher had nothing all that week but Frankfurters. We wished you could have been with us. that sounds kind of funny after the frankfurter sentence.

It is incredible how much time I can spend with the baby; I am doing a play and they told me definitely yesterday that it is going to /Boston. to open. It is not very good but may be all right. It is a nice set to do, and I am glad to be doing scenery again. I wonder if you are writing a lot? I am terribly sorry that your mother is sick again, it must be awfully painful for her, so hopeless and dreadful. I wish there was some way I could bring her some comfort. What do you hear from Lincoln? Peter goes back soon, he is waiting any day to get his orders. How the poor fellow hates to go and leave his kid. The baby is a wonder to him, he gives him his bottle once in a while, and I have even seen him change his didies. One day up in the country Main gave me a shampoo, massaged my head, and set my bangs in curl, and was hoping that the Dutchess of Windsor could look in on us.

Norman Edwards was married again last week, and we had a fine time at the wedding. I've lived through three wives with him and he said it was enough. His new bride is very good looking and seems to be a nice girl. I had a nice party here on my birthday, Leo Garrol was here, that fine actor from George Apply. He is one of my favorite actors, I have known him a long while. We had quite a lot of folks, and it was fun. This all sounds quite gay but there are mighty long quiet intervals. I am writing a little bit every day and sorry I ever took up the damn thing. I should have tried the violin or the harpsicord. Do you ever see May Sartin? I had a poem from her for Christmas, and I lost the envelope with her address on it. I'm afraid I'm going to be an awful bore about the child, but he seems to be on top of my thoughts most of the time. Maybe the novelty will wear off. Edla is really a sport to do what she is doing, it literally takes all of her time. She likes it in a way and says she wants to go on taking care of him for at least a year. It will be easier when we get to the country in the spring.

Jessie Benge's husband is ill and has to have an operation, and I am going up to stay with her tomorrow while it happens. I am so crowded for time, but she is all alone up there. Mina I am getting old, I like to stay home once in a while of an evening. Of course I do all summer, but in New York it seems kind of odd to stay home at night. I do not think my style of English is improving, it seems to be more and more the speech of the stage hands. I'll let you know if we are really coming to Boston, I cannot stay with you it will be too far from work with taxis so hard to get, but maybe after we open I can come for a night or so. It is really the least exciting play you ever saw.

Give your mother my love, and I hope things will not be too hard for her as always yours,

STAT

Mrs. Mina Curtiss

88 Pinkney Street

Boston 14

Mass.

ALINE BERNSTEIN

Armonk, N.Y.

Dearest Mina:

I was so glad to get your letter, and I must say it sounds
kind of cheerful, and full of works. But why are you postponing y our
book? I wish you did not need to, it would be so wonderful to get it
done and off the press. I had a feeling that your new cousin-in-law was
not going to be so hot, I do not know what the feeling stemmed from. To-
day, our own cousin name of Marshall Dill from San Francisco came here to
spend the day, he is the one who married Pamela Frankau. She is soon
coming on here from London, and about to have a baby. He is a very nice
fello, gentlemanly, educated, talented and with lovely manners. He must
be a lot younger than she is, he is going to teach history at Harvard
next year, and is now being separated from the navy. Edla and Peter and
Michael came over, and we had a lovely day all together. I wish you liked
babies better than you do, you would be delighted with Michael. He walks
all over, and laughs his little head off. He took a book out of the shelves
today, sat down, looked at it and laughed deep belly laughs at each page.
You'll hate me if I go on like this.

Did I write to you that my pass, Lawrence Olivier was up here for
a Sunday, along with his lovely wife? It was like heaven, the nicest
time I ever had. We have not yet seen the film but will go in one day
soon. I have been busier than ever, getting my manuscript ready for the
printer. I added about ten thousand words, and tried to clean up all the
mistakes, but I fear some have slipped through my fingers. It is now being
typed to the tune of $150.00 or so, and it makes me sick. I am well on
to finishing the new paper dollies, and when that is done I will rest
easy. Maybe I can get off for a few days, in July. I dread the train trip,
though, I am getting to be a lazy old lady. I might get my friend Jessie
Benge to drive me up and we could stay overnight, if that would be all right

ALINE BERNSTEIN

with you. God willing, we expect to go to Stockbridge for the music the
first week in August, Teddy and I do. We will stay with the Riegelmans as
usual, I am looking for ward to the change, I'm terribly stale. I had a
fine cook but she turned out to be a horrid woman and I had to send her
off. My chambermaid and waitress, who are very nice girls, have taken over
the kitchen, and do wonderfully. I get extra help in on weekends, the only
trouble is that it is not easy to have company during the week. Ethel hits
up some of her cordon blue dishes once in a while and we have very good in-
deed. My cousin Mary Loeb was here also this weekend, and she brought me
the house and garden with the pictures of your house in it. The pictures
are good, but do not do it justice, they never seem to get the great dram-
atic beauty of the sitting room. I guess it is almost impossible to do in
a photograph. I have not been up to see you for so long, maybe when some
one is driving up I could get a lift, but not until the end of the month.
or in July. It must make you feel like a millionaire to have the other
place, and I bet it looks pretty. Do you have to furnish the house or
did you get stuff from Patty ? The White Plains antique show was fine this
year, full of beautiful pieces, the best I have seen for a long time. We
bought nothing, there does not seem to be a bit of room in the house for
another piece. I was sorely tempted by some plates, but let them go.

I have my last day at college this week, thank goodness. I get
tired of it toward this time of year. I can't seem to get around with all
the liveliness that I used to have. I can work just as hard, and really
accomplish more, but travel gets me down. Jessie has been driving me up
to Poughkeepsie, I couldn't do it otherwise. I would have to go down to
the city and up again or hire a taxi over to Harmon, which is too expensive.
Our place looks wonderful, I wish you could see it now, the grass is like
plush from all the rain, and we have a new machine for mowing, and it is
fine. We are not keeping pigs this v HWAX year, it is hard to get feed,

ALINE BERNSTEIN

do you grow your own?

I had a letter from Antiques Magaz ine about doing our house, do
you think it would be as good as House and G? I thought of writing them
about doing it, maybe they would not be interested.

I hope you will like the new material I have put into the book, I am so sick of the thing I never want to see it again. But I guess I will want to, when it is printed. The Knopfs are enthusiastic about it, they have very little fiction now. I managed this last week to disentangle myself from Eva and Webster, they are both sore at me, but I just can't face it, I think it will be dreary anyway. O how I miss the theatre though. The few times I was back stage with the English folks, I nearly lost my head. Olivier is going to do Lear immediately he gets home, I wish I could fly over to see it. They have not been any too happy here, they were in a poor house for their kind of acting, the audiences were terrible, and they claim they have ruined their voices. But their popularity has been immense. I loved Uncle Vania, although it had a poor press. They do it perfectly.

Mina, I'm fat as a pig, what can I do? I have no clothes to wear, I can't get into any of my old ones and I can't find any new ones that I like, and that I can't get into. I have to go to a dinner party on Friday and I will have to go in one of my chinese coats or something like it.

I feel as you do, full of thankfulness for this wonderful house in
the country. All I need for sheer delight is four or five slaves that I
can beat with sticks and make do what I want them to do. It must have
been wonderful to have your brothers with you again, I think it is a
miracle that any one got home at all. Our gardener's three sons are safe
home, and that seems a miracle too. Good night Mina, let me know if it
will be all right to let Jessie drive me up, if she will, in July.

Love as always,

CHURCH
STA

ALINE BERNSTEIN

A rmonk, N. Y.

Dearest Mina:

Those dark red small dahlias are called the Bishop of Landaff, I have a whole row of them and last Saturday we cut over a hundred of them, and it was great excitement. Main was here and he sends you his greetings. Ethel came back last week from her European labor, and she is mighty glad to be home again. We have had the most superb cook in all the world, who has to leave us this week, to go back to her steady place, I only had her for the summer. We had a series of meals for the week end that Main said would ruin his life, for they will be unequalled. Carl and Fania were here Sunday for lunch, the Spewacks came in with Jo Ferrer the actor, un bidden but not unwelcome, and the Knopfs dropped up, is that is what you do from the bottom of the hill, and a good and loud time was had by all. A lso a girl I know whom you probably do not know name of Marcel Franken came in, and with her a fellow name of Cornell, who claims to an acquaintance with you. I know nothing about him, and had little or no chance of conversation. He seemed like a lively chap and in the literary know, somehow. Our flowers are a riot and you never saw anything so lovely as the house hooks.

One night last week end, I heard Teddy describing your house to someone, and I wish you could have heard him. I know, it was a friend of his named Armond Erph(yes), an extremely brilliant fellow, I heard him say---' and it is so beautiful and luxurious, so tasteful and unique., particularly after where we had been visiting Well, that's what Ted thinks of it, only he went on and on. He

ALINE BERNSTEIN

is now visiting for a week end at the C.M. Loeb camp in the Adirondack mountains. He missed our jolly week end and he is sore as a crab. But this is what I want to say, look in the New Yorker of August 30th, on page 55, and on the lower left hand you will see something that will interest you. Knopfs are bringing out a new book of Tom Beer's collected stories, Alfred brought me one yesterday, I think it is not out in the stores yet. It is a lovely book, and I read the stories well into last night and found them so much more interesting than I had remembered them. They were brought together and edited by a man named Follett, who wrote an introduction, which is very good. I hope that Alice gets some money out of it, she is terribly hard up and finds it so difficult at her age to get a job that is suitable. She hasn't the stamina she had years ago when we all worked at the Playhouse.

I am not doing any shows until after Edla's baby comes, I want to be on tap. I have had a completely unproductive summer, but I feel stirrings within and I guess I will start to write again soon. I did finish my piece for the encyclopaedia, and they like it a lot, so that is something. I would love to come up to stay over some night only there is not much chance of driving up, unless your brother would give me a lift some time. But the train is all right from New York, not from here, we are way off the line. Write me sometime, soon, Love as always,

LENO
STA