(3.)

(EMR to GW)

6/13/22

)

arbor and his mate sits on the wire fence making little
silver talk out of her throat, looking about with anxious,
searching head, feeling into the air for his presence. In
the dusk the fireflies, and overhead the night hawks in
the sky all night.

(page 3)

Sallie May and her people are less than an essence out
of the soil. They are a word out of clods.

I tell nobody of her but you and Monroe. . . For she may
be only dream-strife, a useless endeavor - myself on
endless stairs that hang over precipices, clutching at
balconies that become bottomless, running unclothed in
public places, hurrying through unfolding streets in
nakedness and shame . . . . dream.

I merely want this clod-woman, Sallie May, this animated
soil, to emerge a little, become for a brief moment an
essence and a vapor that is aware. Then the moment is
done and she goes back to the soil again, and she does
not remember what it was that happened. But she faintly
knows that something happened. That is all there will be
to my novel.

I thank you for Magnolias and the Intangible Horse.

You will have a happy time at Bonn. I am glad you
are there.

I send you my love and all this chatter
about my story.

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

June 17, 1922

Dear Monroe:

Just before I left the city I went to your home at
Evanston where I had an afternoon and a dinner hour with
your family. Your mother told me news from your letters and
your father showed me his pictures. Richard was practicing
for a show, the same show, I think, that he was practicing
for the last time I saw him. I rested and slept a little
while during the afternoon in the room across the hall from
your room. Your room looked very much the same, but it
was very different. I took about fifteen or seventeen
books from your library, and these your parents sent to me
after I came here. I spent the hour before dinner sitting
before the shelves, selecting the books, and when I left
I waved my hand in the doorway and said "Goodbye, Monie-dear",
like a sentimental woman, only I laughed at myself and at
the world, and with us all, and that made everything all right.

Almost the last thing that happened to me in Chicago
was Mrs. Moody and Vachel Lindsay. Mrs. Moody asked me to
dinner and there I met a Mollie Best whom I liked very much.
I did n't like Vachel. He is not a very gentle man, or at
any rate he gestures wildly with his arms and voice in a
General William Booth Enters Heaven manner. He sat beside
me on the great floppy sofa that you know, and I was almost
overturned by suddenness and gesture. Mrs. Moody had a
General Booth Enters manner too, borrowed, I thought, from

(2.)

(EMR to MW

6/17/22

)

the great guest. They were very noisy and very gay and
very robust. I felt like a skein of silk beside them,
as if I might flutter into the fire any moment and never
be missed. They were composing a telegram to send to
Mr. Robinson, who has won a thousand dollar prize, as you
know, and I objected very mildly to one or two messages.
"Oh, I think that would be very sarcastic," I said,
withdrawing farther and

(page 2)

farther into the arm of the sofa. I felt as if I must
make some concession to the utter informality of the
occasion, and so I sat on my feet. Mrs. Moody was too big
and too floppy and fat and noisy to give aesthetic pleasure,
but doubtless she is a very helpful person in the world.
I went up to see Mrs. Crow for a few minutes. I told
her I wanted to go to the mountains of Kentucky and she
said, "Oh, no, not that for you. You have had enough
of that; Paris and London and New York are for you now.
Mollie Best you may know. She tells delightful stories and
is an Irish patriot. We, she and I, talked much about
Kentucky and Ireland, after the Lindsay-Moody duo had gone
to the theater, and we went away from there together and
parted friends.

It is fun to be at home now. The country is beautiful
with lush green and damp. The catalpa trees have just
finished blooming, and the roses -- the hardy ramblers -- were

(3.)

(EMR to MW

6/17/22

)

a wonder and a myth, just gone. The hills float off in
beautiful rhythms, lifting and turning, line on line. It
is beautiful to be lost in the meshes of my story -- my
own world enhanced to an essence and selected for form.
On one side of our place there is a rye field, now yellow
and hard, rhythmic crystals in the wind. At night the
fireflies rise in little up-going streaks of flame. I sit
on the top of a high gate post overlooking the world and
the dusk, lonely and happy, over-seeing the rye field and
the fireflies and deep pools of tree-greem, and far away to
the west the rolling hills set in tobacco and wheat.

It was good of you and Glenway to drink to my book
with champagne on the Heights. That is propitious.
Ah, Bonn! Will I ever see Bonn? I'd be lost in a Dutchland,
I think. Hurrah for Elly Ney! Again our side won!
(page 3)

Mr Huebsch and I have come to the point of discussing
the manner of printing. I made requests, and he writes
very amiably that all my suggestions are in line with good
book making. I have left the style of the exterior, the
color, and quality and sort of paper all to him, without
offering suggestions. My request was that where a poem
occupies more than one page it shall begin on the left side
and run over on the right, and that this method be
followed as far as possible. I made a little dummy of the
book and worked out a scheme by which this is almost always

(4.)

(EMR to MW

6/17/22

)

followed. According to my plan a poem as short as The Butterbean Tent runs onto two pages, and only those of twelve lines or less occupy one page. Thus only one form is visible at a time, and the poems will stand apart and will not be read too rapidly -- except in the case of the very short ones. But as yet I have signed no contract; Mr. Huebsch must be a forgetful man.

I read your article in the C.M.D. Magazine and I liked it very much. I think you could work over the same material into S.E.Post stories or articles. The Business man loves to know how badly the other side of the world does it. My own story goes along so swiftly that I am out of breath with the swirl of it. I have done more than twenty thousand words. I am not telling even Janet about it, because I may have to throw it away. It works me so hard that I find myself irritated at everything that hinders it. I must write my next story in a cloister.

If I could only have a little house up in my garden!

Greetings and much love,

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

September 14, 1922

Dear Monie:

My greatest joy now is my garden, where I am very happy
with the present and with plans for next year. The best
beauty of it is that it is mine, that it encloses me and
contains me. It is peace and happiness and a good friend.
I am planting hollyhocks and making beds for next season.
I go there the first hour of the morning, when the dew is
heavy and new and the morning glories are a banner of purple
and blue. I sit there often all through the hot noon, in
an old chair under the locust tree, or I work in the earth
with my little digging tool. A humming bird comes there --
he is very like a fish in the air -- and thousands of bees
come to the heavy ripe grapes. You can hear them hum all
over the garden.

But the garden has a dragon, a savage one, but not the
kind that stings the mind and so it is not evel. Poison
ivy. I have great stings and splotches on my wrists and
arms. I came in contact with the beast one morning before
I was aware, when I was digging beds. What a savage! Over
emphasis upon armaments! The wounds are ten days old now.
and so are past the first malignant moments, but they
contain fire and biting venom underneath even yet. A
doctor has prescribed.

I just have your news that Glenway is to return as Madame

(2.)

(EMR to MW
9/14/22 )

Ney's secretary. That is splendid. I have had several
cards from you during the past month and for these many
thanks. I know a little about your *Manikin* plan from Janet.
My book is being hurried

(page 2)

along; I shall probably have proof to read within a week,
and it is being announced in several places. I do not
intend to read any stupid criticisms of it. Doubtless there
will not be many, even of that sort, but I am going to avoid
adverse criticism as stupid. I know what I am doing and I
intend to go my way. . . And so I am going to keep my
garden about me as a protection from the physical hurts
that would come from criticisms, and I shall get somebody
to censor the press notices and reviews for me, if there are any.

I have a few new poems to send. You remember my David
of last summer? This *Song of David* is in the sequence with
the others. The little Fra Angelico poem I am calling, for
the moment, *Lyric Song*. It might better be called Pattern
and Lyric Song, absolute pattern attending on Lyric song,
but that is, of course, not one of my titles. I do not
know as yet whether it succeeds or not. It is very new.
The David is for the Interlude, but the other two are for
the third book. The refrain to *A Song of David* I remember
from my ballad singing grandfather; it belonged to a song
which I do not remember.

Perhaps I'll know when Glenway is sailing. My dreams

(3.)

(EMR to MW

9/14/22

tell me many things.

I make no plan beyond the time when I shall plant the
red rose in my garden. That will be October.

s/ With love

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

February 27, 1931

1244 Fourth Street
Louisville, Ky.

February 27, 1931

My dear Monroe:

I came to Louisville soon after the new year and I have not known cold since. We have had two pouring rains, the last one of a quantity to make the little streams run, but each was set between weeks of bright sun. The scientists are saying that the trade winds have changed, and if that is the case we have come to the end of a geological age. Presently "climate" will be as common as - I almost said as mud. Indeed the time may come when mud may be the much desired, the advertized, the stuff of holidays.

I am sending you a review of The Babe's Bed from the Courier Journal. It will speak for itself.

Much of my tine (sic) is given to taking an ultra-violet light treatment which is designed to set my skin to rights, chilblains not being what was altogether the matter, but being themselves charged to a deeper glandular poverty or deficiency or whatnot. I am sure that you will be glad to know that there is much improvement and that my hands and feet are almost normal again. (page 2)

Louisville is often smoky and heavy but most of these

(2.)

(EMR to MW
2/27/31 )

days are brilliant with sun. There are many lovely drives
among the knobs that come almost up to the very streets
of the city and reach back among steep glades. There is
more timber here within sight of the city than there is
in my country where land is more valuable and is for this
more evenly cleared. I want to show you this place
sometime - the broad curving river - the cab drivers are
country boys with pleasant drawling voices. The voices
of the women are often too high-pitched but are quaintly
rhythmed, a slight down droop of the mouth at the corners.

There is always, everywhere, I suppose, an old
aristocracy waning. I sat in a small gathering at dinner
a few evenings ago, a group of ladies who were sensible
of the changing order. One lady said, with a slight
pride, that she knew nothing about a cook stove, that
she could not cook anything without getting a burn. Then
another lady spoke up and said that her mother often went
about with as many as four fingers tied up each with a
little bandage-rag.

That is a last and high mark of aristocracy and blue
blood, the mark of the true princess.

I thank you for snapshots in the snow. What a lot
of vigor you have! I am aching to be with you and Glenway
for a little. I think you would love the south if you
knew it, both of you.

s/ Elizabeth

Springfield

July 11, 1931

My dear Glenway:

My book is almost finished and I but dally with it, twitting it and turning it thus and thus. It is a pastoral comedy. I believe the intention is to publish it in November.

Janet and Arthur became the parents of a child in the spring. Her name is Joanna, a name Arthur chose after a survey of all English names. She is a fine baby, as I judge from her pictures, and seems to look like Arthur about the brow. She has grey-blue eyes, Janet says, and light brown hair that curls all over her head.

Mr. Winters died about two weeks ago after a long and trying illness - the heart, I think.

We have suffered sixteen months of drought, broken now and then by brief reines, all too few and too far apart. I have suffered with the land until a rain, when it falls, brings me a joy like drunkenness. My own region is suffering more just now than other parts of Kentucky, where fitful thunder showers have fallen. But we had a fine spring. Everything bloomed and bore in greater abundance than ever before, as if the fine juice of life had been enhanced by suffering and drought.

I have written mainly to give you news of Joanna. I hope that your work gives you pleasure and that you and Monroe are both well.

Will you be coming to America in the Autumn? And Monroe?

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Glenway Wescott

July 11, 1931

Springfield

July 11, 1931

My dear Glenway:

Janet and Arthur became the parents of a child in
the spring. Her name is Joanna, a name Arthur chose after
a survey of all English names. She is a fine baby, as I
judge from her pictures, and seems to look like Arthur
about the brow. She has gray-blue eyes, Janet says, and
light brown hair that curls all over her head.

We have suffered sixteen months of drought, broken
now and then by brief rains, all too few and too far apart.
I have suffered with the land until a rain, when it falls,
brings me a joy like drunkenness. My own region is
suffering more just now than other parts of Kentucky,
where fitful thunder showers have fallen. But we had a
fine spring. Everything bloomed and bore in greater
abundance than ever before, as if the fine juice of
life had been enhanced by suffering and drought.

(2.)

(EMR to GW

7/11/31)

s/ With my love

s/ Elizabeth

Elenores
Springfield, Ky.

Mr. Monroe Wheeler
Harrison of Paris

~~363~~
362

753

Fifth Avenue
New York City

ELIZABETH MADOX ROBERTS

SPRINGFIELD, KENTUCKY

Dear Monie,

I am exasperated by a returned letter, and yet you see it is my fault, although the "eight" on the back of your last letter did look just like a "three." I will send it on as it came back to me, mud and all. If I were to open it I should be sure to throw it away. One never can endure to read anything he wrote last week. I can't. Please reply quickly for I am going away from here very soon, probably to Chicago as I told you in the muddy letter, although I'm not sure.

I see Glenway's New Decameron review in the Lit'ry Review. Good. I wish I could write clear-as-crystal sentences like G's. It hurts me that he is going out of America again before I see him.

I am at this minute appeased because Arthur likes my prose and because Under the Tree is appearing and disappearing under favorable auspices at the bookstores in Chicago.

Tell Glenway "Happy Voyage!" for me. And love to him.

My dear Monroe:

I am happy to know that you will
come here to see me. I will be here
until the first of December, or until
the snow flies, and it is not likely to
fly sooner. I wish you were here now
for the world is, here, a grand display
of color. All this will go quickly, there
being no moisture to sustain it. But it
will not be utterly spent -- the beauty-
even if the color is gone, for there is
always the rhythm and the dun brown of
the pastures. Keep me informed of your
plans and come on, as you propose.

I am interested in your publishing
venture and wish it entire success. Have
you found the firm best suited to handle
the American end? I shall be wanting some
of the books when all is settled.

Write to me again in a few days. I
am most happy to know that I shall be
talking with you soon.

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 29, 1931 (env)

My dear Monroe:

I began to build a house about four months ago, a
wing joining the old house on the south side. The work
is well advanced by this time, but all will not be
finished for two months or more. The new wing has four
large rooms and several small ones - baths, alcoves,
halls, and the like, and there is a furnace room and a
garage in the basement. It is built of bricks and is of
a plain early American style with a heavy slate roof,
and a Georgian door at the front. I have a contractor
and an architect, but I am obliged to supervise the work
continually, and this has been an enormous preoccupation.
I planned the lay-out in the beginning, suiting all to
my needs and to the space to be filled, for I did not
want to cut down any tree. The new wing joins the old
at two points, - on the front porch and by the way of a
sun room at the rear or west side. The old wing is
subordinated to the new. After a while, when all is
finished, the front "gallery" will be altered and brought
into harmony with the new wing. The whole will then be
a rambling house, part brick and part wood, having
fourteen rooms and three baths, two porches, and three
cellars.

When the work is a little farther advanced I will

(2.)

(EMR to MW
12/29/31 )

have some pictures made and sent to you.
(page 2)

The central heating plant is established just now,
and so we have warmth over the whole house. But
curiously enough we have not as yet had any cold
weather. The grass is green outside and the trees are
budding, the robins are singing and the flowers are
getting ready to bloom. The drought of last year is
gone, and in place of it we have incessant rains.

If I could have foreseen all the difficulties
through which I, as a builder, have passed, I should
never have had the courage to begin. But the most of the
rigors are surely behind me now. Many mornings have seen
me high on the ramparts of the new work, before breakfast,
showing a contractor how I want a thing done. And with
all this several mishaps have slipped by. But on the
whole it is a good house. My banker tells me it is the
best-built house in town.

And no wonder. There is an old saying: If you
want a thing done well you must do it yourself, and
I've done it.

Thus I have been occupied since I finished writing
"A Buried Treasure". Meanwhile I have received your
announcement and I see that your publishing continues,
and in a fine way. I have longed for news of you and
Glenway. If I can leave I want to run away for a little
while before very long. Possibly I shall go to Chicago for

(3.)

(EMR to MW
12/29/31 )

a few weeks. And yet I scarcely dare leave now that
the finishing work is at hand.

The tobacco market is open now and the town is
aware of this - the farmers and their ladened wagons
and the strong odor of half green tobacco floating
continually over the place. The prices are very low
and the farmers are dumb with misery and debt, but
there is no dissent, no mutiny or complaint.

I will be writing "The Raven" next. My love to
Glenway, and how I should like having news of you.

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 29, 1931 (env)

My dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW
12/29/31 )

(3.)

(EMR to MW

12/29/31

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

February 19, 1932

Springfield, Ky.

February 19, 1932

My dear Monroe:

It is delightful to know that you are coming to America again. I will see you, one way or another. And I shall be glad to see Glenway too. I did not try to catch you in France, knowing that you would be gone before I could do so. It is gratifying to hear of Glenway's book and of the kind, and to know that it is so soon to be ready. I am entranced to know that you got pleasure of "A Buried Treasure." I hope you read it in the American version. I find just now, to my grief, that the English edition was printed from the first and un-revised proof sheets. There were marked changes in the last chapter. A thing of this sort - so stupid and careless- fills one with tears.

I have been carried along from one anxiety to the next all winter. The house is not yet finished, but it nears completion. And yet, many things continually turn up as being necessary. The plaster, the floors, the interior finished woodwork, the stairs, the mantels and tiles - all these are in place. Today the men were putting on the shutters outside. The whole looks as if it were finally brought together into a mass and a working unit. But the heating system is unbalanced and is the subject

(2.)

(EMR to MW
2/19/32 )

for a painful controversy. I was tricked here, in a
field where I had

(page 2)

no experience, so that the boiler is now definitely
proved to be about fifty percent too small. And what a
long sequence of opinions, counter-opinions, facts,
suspicions, lies, letters, and inspections, were necessary
before I came to this last conclusion. I expect to have
even more trouble over it, for the people who put it in
must now be persuaded to take the boiler out and put in
a larger one.

I will not be moving into the new wing, then, for
some time yet. But the other parts, - the painting and
finishing, the plumbing, cauking, (sic) and weather-
stripping, ought to be finished in six weeks or so.
Perhaps by that time the weather will be warm and we will
not need the boiler. I am tired far past the breaking
point, and I have been trying to get away for two months,
but every week holds me here with things I must bring
about or inspect or buy or select. I have wanted to go
to Chicago, to Richmond, to Charleston, or to Nashville.
I will probably go to Chicago or to Louisville. I must
get away. My very brain is a seething vortex of sawdust
and shavings, of costs and moneys and kinds, of fire
hazards to be overcome in the roof and termite hazards
in the cellar . . .

If I cannot be with you here I will go someplace

(3.)

(EMR to MW
2/19/32 )

where you are. Please let me know of your movements
after you come here.

(page 3)

When the house is all done and I am rested of it, it
will be lovely to have you here. Indeed, that is one of
the reasons for building - that I may have you, and
Glenway, with me when you are in America. My guest will
stay in my former suite, and dine with me over in the
weaving room. There is a neat little kitchen, no bigger
than six feet square, where a little brown girl can
serve us. And then there is a large library, as yet
plain and almost square, with nothing but its own good
dimensions to adorn it, these, and the white mantel
flanked with Alabama marble facings and marble on the
hearth. The nice views out the windows. Outside the
birds are already singing for spring. From the windows
of the upper west room one can see a long way over
rolling hills.

I did not receive the "Death of Madame", I am sorry.

I will send this to Evanston and trust that it is
forwarded to you.

With my love,
s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

February 19, 1932

Springfield, Ky.

February 19, 1932

My dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW
2/19/32 )

(3.)

(EMR to MW
2/19/32 )

(page 3)

With my love,
s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

March 26, 1932

My dear Monroe:

I am very much pleased to know you are at hand.
I should like for you to plan to come here as you go
back from Chicago. I can keep you here at Eleanores.
The new wing is just about finished now, and is fit to
live in. I will not have much furniture, but there
will be enough. You may stay either in my new suite
or in the old one.

I could move now, but I am rather spent— and loath
to take the pains. But I shall probably not go away for
any real stay. Probably to Louisville for three or four
days in a week or so. Many things have happened to make
it necessary for me to stay on.

I will send you a little picture of Elenores as it now
stands. The stone on which my father is sitting is intended
for the cap of a gate pillar and the little bushes to the
front are of the many shrubs I planted last fall. Every-
thing will be fresh out-of-doors — green and new — in
April. I hope you can come.

I am deeply excited about Glenway's book. I hope I
can arrange a lecture for him in Louisville, or suggest
it, at least. I will write down there at once and propose it.

I will write again soon.

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

March 26, 1932

My dear Monroe:

I could move now, but I am rather spent-- and loath to take the pains. But I shall probably not go away for any real stay. Probably to Louisville for three or four days in a week or so. Many things have happened to make it necessary for me to stay on.

I will send you a little picture of Elenores as it now stands. The stone on which my father is sitting is intended for the cap of a gate pillar and the little bushes to the front are of the many shrubs I planted last fall. Everything will be fresh out-of-doors -- green and new -- in April. I hope you can come.

I will write again soon.

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 9, 1932

My dear Monroe:

I was pleased to hear that the proof-reading was
done and that you are on the way to see your family in
Evanston. Give all of them my love. Richard must be
seventeen or so. Janet reminded me a few days ago that
he used to close his letters with "I love you, with
love, Richard.."

I shall continue to hope you may stop down to see
me on your way back. My country will be at its loveliest
and most tender green. Your rooms will be up among the
tree tops. Is there time to reach Glenway with a letter
before he sails? I am eager to have him come too. I
have written to Louisville to ask if there is a chance
for a lecture. It is, as you say, late, and the clubs
are about to close for the season. If it were earlier
I could easily get him an appointment. (sic)

Please keep Elenores in mind and come if you can.

With love

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 9, 1932

My dear Monroe:

With love

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 25, 1932

My dear Monroe:

I was deeply disappointed that you could not come this time. I had said many times in the last week, seeing a flowering bush or a green vista lit up with tender new leaves, "I will show that to Monroe". But perhaps you can come the next time. I found it was too late in the year to get any really good lecture engagements for Glenway in Louisville although The Wilderness Road Book Shop wanted to try to arrange one. Several of the most influential people there were interested and eager to have him come, and perhaps he can another time.

Please give Glenway news of me and give him my love.
Africa seems far from here.

"The Death of Madame" came a few days ago. It is a beautiful little book, translated with vigor and clarity. The makeup is exquisite. I thank you for it.

I have been working quite a little the past two weeks on some short pieces. I do not have much faith in the "short stroy" (sic) as a species. Unless it is founded on a symbol and partakes of the nature of drama it is nothing but gossip. But there is one other alternative for it - the significant sketch without physical action. I am completing three (page 2) short pieces just now, and since I have four already

(2.)

(EMR to MW

4/25/32

)

published, I will possibly offer the seven in a volume
in the fall.

Janet has completed a novel, but she did not tell me
when it was to be published. I surmise this Spring for
it. She asked about you and Glenway, and she said Arthur
was working on a volume of criticism. I expect Glenway
and I will both come under his lash.

I have moved most of my library to the new wing,
but my study is still in the old place. I gather the
things together slowly and tentatively, but the library
is very pleasant, being spacious. All the air is
delicately green from the greenery outside.

A God-speed to you and a hope to see you before the
year is over.

With my love,

s/ Elizabeth

Elenores
Springfield

April 25, 1932

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 25, 1932

My dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW

4/25/32

)

With my love,

s/ Elizabeth

Elenores
Springfield

April 25, 1932

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 15, 1933

Elenores

Springfield

April 15, 1933

My dear Monroe:

How beautiful it must have been in China! Far away and far to go! I know almost nothing about it. You will be back in Paris now, having traversed the wide continent. I hope that you traveled without mishap.

We have lived through very stressful days in America this winter. A revolution indeed. Looking backward now we see that the past years were years of anarchy. The Captains of Finance were robber barons, and, under cover of the screen put up by the gangsters, they kidnapped the fortunes of the general man and the poor. But I believe we have a leader about whom the imagination may focus.

The state of affairs, the state, the coup d'état brought about when Roosevelt seized the banking situation and shaped it into security, these have been my chief interest. My father suffered a stroke last summer and he walks with great difficulty. His condition saddens me not a little. But he has many good days when he is able to walk slowly about the grounds of our place and even on the streets a little, and he is still keenly interested in what the world does.

(2.)

(EMR to MW

4/15/33

)

Your experience with "The Invasion" was much the same as mine although I did not read it in tropic seas. It was reviewed recently by Howard Baker, Arthur's friend and colleague, in *Hound and Horn*, and compared to (page 2)

"Penhally" to the slight detriment of the latter. Arthur frequently gives me a public cuff along with Pound and Moore (Marianne). It is a pity he has a surfeit of scholarship and a paucity of life. He measures every aesthetic good against its ultimate value for research. He is bitten by pedantry. I had rather write a good folk book or a good folk song than a pretty little thing for the universities.

Kentucky is beautiful now, the redbud in bloom and the leaves of the trees beginning to open - tender and damp and new-green. I have planted more than fifty little trees in my field, the little park to the south of the house. I hope that you will come to see me when you come to America.

"The Haunted Mirror" came out in November, as was planned. I have been busy with another novel which is about half finished, and with certain shorter pieces. Alas, one must write now for dear life since American capital is forzen. (sic) I believe it was Defoe who said he had been rich and poor thirty-three times.

I saw "The Saints Calendar" announced and was

(3.)

(EMR to MW

4/15/33

)

pleased, thinking of it.

My little town is alive, has never been very much
depressed or deflated. I keep close to it, moving
among the people and knowing what they do.

I send my dear and most precious love to yourself
and to Glenway. I shall be glad to hear from you when
you are in Paris again.

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 15, 1933

Elenores

Springfield

April 15, 1933

My dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW

4/15/33

)

(3.)

(EMR to MW

4/15/33

)

pleased, thinking of it.

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Mrs. Fred M. Wheeler

August 4, 1933

Elenores
Springfield, Ky.

August 4, 1933

My dear Mrs Wheeler:

My father died a few days ago after a long illness. He suffered a heat stroke the sixteenth of June and was in bed from the twenty-first of June until his death, the twenty-seventh of July. Will you please give news of this to Monroe and Glenway? I do not know where they may be during the summer.

I hope that all of you are well. My love and best wishes to you and to all of yours.

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Mrs. Fred M. Wheeler

August 4, 1933

Elenores
Springfield, Ky.

August 4, 1933

My dear Mrs Wheeler:

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 20, 1933

Elenores

November 20, 1933

My dear Monroe:

I received your letter of September 7th, which was very much prized. For a time I seemed to have passed into a region from which I could send out no message although messages from friends could come in to me. That is because I guard certain experience which they, — others — must be spared. I went with my father to the last most minute step.

Now I am happy that you are coming to America. You must come to see me, of course. You know the way now, and you will remember how easily the journey is made from Chicago. Do plan not to hurry away. I can make you comfortable in my own house, and what delight it will be

(page 2)

to have you.

I have been busy with a novel, work which was begun many months ago. I hope to have it finished by early summer. On Sunday within a week I am going to give a reading from unpublished verse in Louisville, the first reading I have given since 1922! I think I shall enjoy doing it and enjoy wearing the blue velvet gown I have devised for it.

(2.)

(EMR to MW

11/20/33

)

Glenway's letter of September made me most happy, renewing my spirit. I shall be sending him a message very soon. If he comes to America he must arrange to come to me also.

Love

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 20, 1933

Elenores

November 20, 1933

My dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW

11/20/33

)

Love

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 20, 1933

Elenores
Springfield

December 20, 1933

My dear Monroe:

I was surprised but delighted to hear that you
had arrived in America. Do we, depressed, seem different?
One would expect the houses of Manhattan to be
sway-backed and bowed, or folded down. I received
the French Song Book a few days ago and will talk to
you of it when I see you.

And now when will that be? I will have the house
full of the
(page 2)
family during Christmas and for a few days after, but
after that it will be all for you.

A happy Christmas to your mother and father and
to Richard.

With my affection

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 20, 1933

Elenores
Springfield

December 20, 1933

My dear Monroe:

With my affection

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 27, 1933

My dear Monroe:

Your telegram was received at twelve oclock and
answered soon after. I shall be most happy to have
you come Tuesday, but I hope you can stay beyond Thursday.

You will come to Lebanon, I suppose, as you did last
time. I believe you can get the same train out. I will
not plan to meet you because my car will be going to the
shop tomorrow, and by some unlucky chance I may not have
it back. When you reach Lebanon you can call for a cab
at the station. The agent will be able to get you one
very soon. Then in twenty minutes or so you should be
at my big front door.

It is fearfully cold this morning, down near zero,
but these spells never last very long with us, and so it
will be pleasant by the time you come.

I had, from your family, a Christmas greeting. To them
(page 2)

I send my love and a wish for their happy New Year.

Tuesday, then, in the mid-morning.

s/ Elizabeth

Springfielf, Ky. (sic)

December 27, 1933

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 27, 1933

My dear Monroe:

s/ Elizabeth

Springfielf, Ky. (sic)

December 27, 1933

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 27, 1933

My dear Monroe:

s/ Elizabeth

Springfield, Ky. (sic)

December 27, 1933

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 27, 1933

My dear Monroe:

s/ Elizabeth

Springfield, Ky. (sic)

December 27, 1933

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 27, 1933

My dear Monroe:

s/ Elizabeth

Springfielf, Ky. (sic)

December 27, 1933

My dear Monroe:

Tea came to me some ten
days ago. I thank you for the
generous offering of fineness and
quantity. We have had a week of
dreadful weather - snow and zero
cold - so that nobody could come
to drink with me, but this after-
noon somebody will, perhaps. And
so I have not yet tasted the gift,
for somehow I feel that tea goes
with company and social graces, and
I have never had a solitary cup.

Such a combination of snow
and cold! Rain and snow alternated
in falling for two or three days last
week, so that the result was a solid
sheet of ice over everything, eight or
ten inches thick. And then the drop
in temperature. My feet have not
touched the ground for a solid week.
The lion thus got such a running start
on the lamb that I did not think the
latter would have any show March first,
but somehow he did, and potent as are
these gentle creatures of a non-com-
bative nature, March came with balmy
air overhead - but a big job of ice to
melt away underfoot.

I hope the book goes well. Perhaps
it is finished and you might come down
to see me again.

My dear Monroe:

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

March 3, 1934 (env)

My dear Monroe:

Tea came to me some ten days ago. I thank you
for the generous offering of fineness and quantity. We
have had a week of dreadful weather - snow and zero
cold - so that nobody could come to drink with me, but
this afternoon somebody will, perhaps. And so I have
not yet tasted the gift, for somehow I feel that tea
goes with company and social graces, and I have never
had a solitary cup.

Such a combination of snow and cold! Rain and
snow alternated in falling for two or three days last
week, so that the result was a solid sheet of ice over
everything, eight or ten inches thick. And then the
drop in temperature. My feet have not touched the
ground for a solid week. The lion thus got such a running
start on the lamb that I did not think the latter would
have any show March first, but somehow he did, and potent
as are these gentle creatures of non-combative nature,
March came with balmy air overhead - but a big job of
ice to melt away underfoot.

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

March 3, 1934 (env)

My dear Monroe:

Such a combination of snow and cold! Rain and
snow alternated in falling for two or three days last
week, so that the result was a solid sheet of ice over
everything, eight or ten inches thick. And then the
drop in temperature. My feet have not touched the
ground for a solid week. The lion thus got such a running
start on the lamb that I did not think the latter would
have any snow March first, but somehow he did, and potent
as are these gentle creatures of non-combative nature,
March came with balmy air overhead - but a big job of
ice to melt away underfoot.

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

March 3, 1934 (env)

My dear Monroe:

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 8, 1934

My dear Monroe:

I am glad that you have gone to France with an eye upon a return to America soon. I had an illness in February which left me less able to carry the book forward. Later I put myself under the care of the head physician at the Danville hospital and then all desk work was forbidden. And so the novel is put away.

(page 2)

I spend much time in the open. The first of the lovely spring is here. The leaves are but a light fringe of green spread about among the bare boughs, scarcely belonging as yet to the trees. The shrubs are blooming, or are about to bloom.

The physician found a partial anemia — the blood about 65% of what it should be. I am to go back to him in a few days for another blood count after two weeks of intensive nourishment.

(page 3)

The birds are more delightful than usual this spring. I suppose they are singing joyously over my little trees that are dedicated to their uses. Sometimes this morning I have heard two or three cardinals and a bluebird singing at once. This has always been a most birdful place.

The little holly trees seem to be alive. I have planted an American elm and I have two sugar trees now

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

April 8, 1934

My dear Monroe:

(page 2)

(page 3)

Elenores

May 13, 1954

My dear Monroe:

The spring advances, each lovely progress flowing out of what went before. I wish you were to be here tomorrow, or any time this May. The dour coloring is all gone from the rolling hills and everything is softly green with May.

Soon after I wrote to you last I had a quite severe throat operation - tonsils and shnesses. The work was done in the Danville hospital - a local anesthetic. I remained in the hospital but two days thereafter, for the physician, seeing that I could not sleep there, brought me home himself on the back seat of a large car. I convalesced slowly here in my own chamber with a nurse attending me for a week. My throat was much worse than was suspected and is now thought to have been the cause of the skin disorder. I am still not permitted to work at my desk. I have responded excellently to the diets prescribed - both before and after the operation - and while it is not promised that my throat will be entirely healed before autumn, I am to have a better than ever physical being, and already I am thought to be up-and-coming. Indeed I look as well or better than ever before. In spite of the great pain of the order and the difficulties of eating until the ninth day after, I lost but two pounds.

Since desk work is forbidden, I spend most of my days directing a gardener who mows my grass and plants and trims for me. It is delightfully rewarding.

I was distressed at what you told of Katherine Anne's illness. It was good of you and Barbara Harrison to take her to Davos. I wish that I knew where to get every story she has written. There are but few writers who so excite me.

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

May 13, 1934

Elenores

May 13, 1934

My dear Monroe:

Soon after I wrote to you last I had a quite
severe throat operation - tonsils and abscesses. The
work was done in the Danville hospital - a local
anesthetic. I remained in the hospital but two days
thereafter, for the physician, seeing that I could not
sleep there, brought me home himself on the back seat
of a large car. I convalesced slowly here in my own
chamber with a nurse attending me for a week. My throat
was much worse than was suspected and is now thought to
have been the cause of the skin disorder. I am still
not permitted to work at my desk. I have responded
excellently to the diets prescribed - both before and
after the operation - and while it is not promised that
my throat will be entirely healed before autumn, I am to
have a better than ever physical being, and already I am
thought to be up-and-coming. Indeed I look as well or

(2.)

(EMR to MW

5/13/34

)

better than ever before. In spite of the great pain
of the ordeal and the difficulties of eating until the
ninth day after, I lost but two pounds.

Since my desk work is forbidden, I spend most of
my days directing a gardener who mows my grass and
plants and trims for me. It is delightfully rewarding.

(page 2)

And so, thus, I, in the latter end of the spring,
drouth (sic) threatening but not yet very much felt,
rain promised for the fifteenth, the hydrangias (sic)
and the roses forming the first little nubs of bloom
buddings, and I convalescing splendidly out under the
thick green boughs.

My love to you,

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

May 13, 1934

Elenores

May 13, 1934

My dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW

5/13/34

)

(page 2)

My love to you,

s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

July 16, 1934

My dear, dear Monroe:

When the doctors said a change of scene was imperative for me I went to Louisville (having considered Ashville and judged it too far away). Frances Shultz took me and remained with me a week as nurse. I improved very much, but having a long way to climb, I am still rather weak, but my heart has been slowed to something near normal by a most curious and worthy electrical thyroid treatment. Ten days ago it was beating 120 steadily — with all the attending ills.

When I left home I asked to have only personal letters sent (page 2)

after me. Somehow, to my great distress, your letter was kept among the business letters, and so I did not receive it until I reached home this Saturday. I am most sorry. I should have been very happy if you & Glenway might have stopped to see me in Louisville. I think the journey would not have been out of your way, and all the more if you were going to Charlottesville. I could have made you comfortable in my hotel where electric fans kept the rooms always cool & pleasant. How I should have loved to see both of you, and my two dear friends in Louisville, Dwight & Barbara Anderson, would have been greatly pleased to have you come. Indeed Glenway is

(2.)

(EMR to MW
7/16/34 )

so much esteemed in Louisville
(page 3)

that his coming would have been like a home-coming.

I had a most distressing and serious illness - a
complete nervous collapse. It is thought to have been
caused by a week of work on the novel — too soon after
the severe operation — a major operation, it now is
deemed. There is one week which I cannot clearly
remember. Please forgive the bungling which delayed
the letter. Perhaps with the little you &
Glenway can come this way soon again.

My love

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

July 16, 1934

My dear, dear Monroe:

(2.)

(EMR to MW

7/16/34

)

My love

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

July 17, 1934

My dear Monroe:

Yesterday while I was writing I was obliged to
quit suddenly. (Such are the irregularities of
convalescence.) ——

I was distressed to hear of Glenway's fall. The
knitting of the ribs may be slow and tedius. (sic)
I trust that he is healed of the other hurts and the
fractures are not giving trouble. My sympathy and my
continual love to him. (sic)

My physicians say that I must eat, sleep, and be
merry, and be gone from home a great
(page 2)
deal in the next few months. And so I shall be here
and there now, and spend the winter months much
further south. I shall not attempt to run Elenores
all winter. That is forbidden.

Again I speak of my deep regret that I did not have
both of you in Louisville several days.

Lovingly

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

July 17, 1934

My dear Monroe:

Lovingly

Elizabeth

My dear Monroe:

I have been drawing "He Sent
Førth a Raven" to an end and thus
I have been more than busy, and often
very much exhausted. But it works out
now to the ultimate of itself, and in
a few days I will send it to Mr. Beat.
I sent for "Hacienda" yesterday and
can safely wait until it arrives.

"Will you be passing westerly
during Christmas? I should be glad to
have you stop to see me. We thought
once to be gone, but I did not get
the book finished by December first,
and now we will stay here until some
time in January or later. Ivor is
in Washington, and he expects to be here
all of Christmas week. It would be
lovely if you could come for some of
that time.

The tea has been much enjoyed.
I use but little, since I am mostly
out rustling in the wind at tea-time.
But it is like some essences from
a Chinese garden that is blown over
by winds from Ind.

My regardful love,

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 13, 1934

My dear Monroe:

I have been drawing "He Sent Forth a Raven" to
an end and thus I have been more than busy, and often
very much exhausted. But it works out now to the
ultimate of itself, and in a few days I will send it to
Mr. Best. I sent for "Hacienda" yesterday and can
scarcely wait until it arrives.

My regardful love,
s/ Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 13, 1934

My dear Monroe:

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

August 10, 1935

Elenores

Aug. 10

My dear Monroe:

It was not from choice that I left your gracious letter of the spring unnoticed. I have been ill a long time, since January — a number of things, mostly nervous exhaustion. I was better in April. Then the cold rains of May and June set me a long way back. I have not yet caught up with April, but I am much better. I walk only a few steps about the house and yard and drive a half-hour or so.

I should love to have a letter from you.

What a delight it was to me that you liked my new book! (page 2)

I am, of course, not writing anything and shall not be for a long time.

I shall have to spend the winter in some mild warm place where there is not too much rain. We have not yet decided where this will be, but Ivor will select someplace for me. He is a Regional Auditor for the Administration and travels over the whole South and Southwest, with his eye out now for suitable climates for me. I hope to be able to stay here quite a while yet, however.

Elenores is lovely, for the trees have grown very much in the almost tropical rains.

My best love to yourself and to Glenway —

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

August 10, 1935

Elenores

Aug. 10

My dear Monroe:

It was not from choice that I left your gracious letter of the spring unnoticed. I have been ill a long time, since January -- a number of things, mostly nervous exhaustion. I was better in April. Then the cold rains of May and June set me a long way back. I have not yet caught up with April, but I am much better. I walk only a few steps about the house and yard and drive a half-hour or so.

My best love to yourself and to Glenway -

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

August 10, 1935

Elenores

Aug. 10

My dear Monroe:

My best love to yourself and to Glenway --

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

August 10, 1935

Elenores

Aug. 10

My dear Monroe:

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 14, 1935 (env)

My dear dear Monroe:

I have just come back from a hospital in Louisville and found the delicious tea waiting for me. I am drinking it now every afternoon — and always in your honor — and will take it with me when I go for the winter.

At the hospital I had a complete examination (for I have continued in the nervous exhaustion of the summer and spring.) Nothing organic was found wrong (sound in wind and limb, as we say of the (page 2)

horses — perhaps only a little short in nervous wind). We found, though, that I was wearing glasses three times too strong in astigmatic correction, enough power to twist a very brain out of shape. The new lenses rest my eyes immeasurably, and I am going to close the house for the winter, to save myself from the strains of the house-holder, and go to Louisville for a long round of massage to finish up the cure.

I will let you know when I have a Louisville address. I do not read anything, and have not been reading any at all for many months. (page 3)

Enores is sweet, with the winter coloring settling upon it out of the lively autumn. I sit much in the

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 14, 1935 (env)

My dear dear Monroe:

I have just come back from a hospital in Louisville and found the delicious tea waiting for me. I am drinking it now every afternoon - and always in your honor - and will take it with me when I go for the winter.

At the hospital I had a complete examination (for I have continued in the nervous exhaustion of the summer and spring.) Nothing organic was found wrong (sound in wind and limb, as we say of the (page 2) horses - perhaps only a little short in nervous wind).

(page 3)

Benores is sweet, with the winter coloring settling upon it out of the lively autumn. I sit much in the

(2.)

(EMR to MW
11/14/35 )

weaving room where I often have a log fire - and
many suggestions of you. One of the most lively
incentives I have to a return to health is the
hope that you will come again.

My love to you and to Glenway

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 14, 1935 (env)

My dear dear Monroe:

At the hospital I had a complete examination (for I have continued in the nervous exhaustion of the summer and spring.) Nothing organic was found wrong (sound in wind and limb, as we say of the page 2)

horses - perhaps only a little short in nervous wind). We found, though, that I was wearing glasses three times too strong in astigmatic correction, enough power to twist a very brain out of shape. The new lenses rest my eyes immeasurably, and I am going to close the house for the winter, to save myself from the strains of the house-holder, and go to Louisville for a long round of massage to finish up the cure.

Renores is sweet, with the winter coloring settling upon it out of the lively autumn. I sit much in the

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 14, 1935 (env)

My dear dear Monroe:

Eenores is sweet, with the winter coloring settling upon it out of the lively autumn. I sit much in the

(2.)

(EMR to MW

11/14/35

)

My love to you and to Glenway

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

November 14, 1935 (env)

My dear dear Monroe:

I have just come back from a hospital in Louisville and found the delicious tea waiting for me. I am drinking it now every afternoon -- and always in your honor -- and will take it with me when I go for the winter.

Menores is sweet, with the winter coloring settling upon it out of the lively autumn. I sit much in the

(2.)

(EMR to MW

11/14/35

)

My love to you and to Glenway

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env)

My dear Monroe

In Louisville for a few weeks until I am "built
up" sufficiently to be sent south. The difficulty now
is more distinctly nervous hurt which should respond to
massage and other similar treatments. It was lovely to
have your letter. I am going to try to be here through
Christmas and I will keep you informed of the plans made
for me. I am thinking of going to
(page 2)

Yowell, on Missionary Ridge, an osteopathic sanatorium which seem to be quite complete and well housed. I enjoyed your discussion of Wiemeler when finally I could read a bit again. One of your books makes all the books else in my library ashamed. What a ragged lot they are! How I wish I could follow all that you do, and maybe after a a few months more I'll be ready.

It was nice to have a line from Janet. I'll answer (page 3)

her and tell her the child is tall and quick, like
herself, (or like she was).

I hope I may see you here. I am good for but very
little but that little will be precious if it is shared
with you.

My love to yourself and to Glenway

Elizabeth

1432 St. James Court
Louisville

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env)

My dear Monroe

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env)

My dear Monroe

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env)

My dear Monroe

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env)

My dear Monroe

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env ?)

My dear Monroe:

I will be in Louisville through all the holidays
and perhaps longer — in this place — and I hope to
see you here — and Glenway, if he comes west. I have
little to offer in Louisville (no lovely St. Rose)
beside my partly broken, but mending self.

(page 2)

Please remember me to your mother and father and
Richard with a happy Christmas wish.

Always

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env ?)

My dear Monroe:

I will be in Louisville through all the holidays
and perhaps longer - in this place - - and I hope to
see you here - and Glenway, if he comes west. I have
little to offer in Louisville (no lovely St. Rose)
beside my partly broken, but mending self.

(page 2)

Always

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env ?)

My dear Monroe:

(page 2)

Always

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env ?)

My dear Monroe:

(page 2)

Always

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

December 12, 1935 (env ?)

My dear Monroe:

(page 2)

Always

Elizabeth

From: Elizabeth Madox Roberts

To: Monroe Wheeler

Christmas Day, 1935

Christmas Day
1935
1432 St. James Court
Louisville, Ky.

My dearest Monroe:

I am most pleased that you will come to me here.
I think your train would arrive at about seven in the
morning - Pennsylvania line. I will want you with me
all the time possible. These vague plans suggest
themselves to me: I am never up until about ten, and
our house is often chilly before that time. You would
be more comfortable thus: Arriving at the station, Tenth
and Broadway, you might leave all your baggage more than
a light briefcase or newspaper. Go east on Broadway to
Fourth, six blocks, by streetcar, or walking, or cab.
You can get a breakfast at the coffee shop of the Brown
Hotel, Fourth and Broadway. Then you could loaf and rest
in the lobby of the Brown (second floor) or stroll about
Fourth, our busy street, if the weather is good.

Come out here at ten, arrive at ten or very soon
after. You can come by streetcar out Fourth - south -
and ask to be let off at Magnolia Street, walking then
one short block west to St. James. I live just opposite
the fountain. Or by cab, direct, about one mile.

If there is any bag that you want later we can pick
it up when we are out driving. I will take you out around

(2.)

(EMR to MW

12/25/35

)

eleven, if it is not too cold for me. You can stay here
the rest of the day, and I will delight in giving you
lunch and dinner, since my hostess (I am a "paying
guest") manages food very well. I will have to rest
in bed most of the afternoon, but you can rest too, or
amuse yourself outside in the little park.

I will tell you all the rest when you are here.
I am in a trance of delight that you will come.

My greetings to your mother and father.

Your delighted,

s/ Elizabeth