TO ROBERT W. DE FOREST

Washington, February, 1920

My dear Mr. De forest,—­I do not know that I have received another letter which has made me feel as conscious of the gravity of the step I have taken as has yours.  I have accumulated much in twenty years of public life that ought to be forever at the service of the public, and if I were alone in the world I would not think of going out.  But I must think now for a time in a narrower field.  Your own career shows that without holding office a man may do a great good and give wide public service.  Perhaps this opportunity may be mine.

I shall be in New York soon and I hope very much to see you and see you often.  Cordially yours,

FRANKLIN K. LANE

XII

POLITICAL COUNSEL-LINCOLN’S EYES 1920

Suggestions to Democratic Nominee for President—­On Election of Senators—­Lost Leaders—­Lincoln’s Eyes—­William James’s Letters

TO WILLIAM PHELPS ENO

Saugatuck, July 5, [1920]

Here I am at your desk looking out of your window into your trees, up the gentle rise of your formal garden into the brilliant crown of rambler roses above the stone gateway.

This is a very delightful picture.  The sun is just beginning to pour into the garden.  He is looking through the apple trees and having hard work to make even a splash of golden green upon the lawn, but the silver spruce and the tiara of roses get the full measure of his morning smile and are doing their best to show that they understand, appreciate, and are glad.  Oh, it is a great morning!

And on the water side it has been even more stimulating, I have walked along the stone wall, the water is down, very low, the boat is stranded, like some sleeping animal, with its tether lying loose along the pebbly strand.  The gulls are crying to each other that there is promise of a gulletfull.  Nearer shore the fish are leaping—­only one or two I think but they make just enough noise to make one realize that there is life in the smooth water, that it is more than a splendid silver mirror for the sun which streams across it.  I disturbed a solitary king-fisher as I went out to the wharf.  He rose from his perch upon the rope, circled about for a minute and then settled back, on his watch for breakfast.

It is altogether lovely, a quiet, gentle, kindly morning, such as you have often seen, no doubt, when Judah Rock is making its giant fight to rise triumphant from the sea.