Ah, my dear boy, you have inspired many a fellow you don’t know anything about, with a desire to emulate you, and always to emulate something that is genuine and big in you—­not a trick of speech or a small quality of mind or manner.  I envy you—­and so do many.  Nancy could tell you why you are worth while.  She knows the genuine from the spurious.  She knows the metal that rings true when tests come.

So there, ... put all this inside of your smooth noddle and take a drink to me—­a drink of “cald, cald water.”

And I just want you to understand that I am in no self-deprecatory mood right now, for I am in my office at eight o’clock of a Saturday evening, working away with all my might on some damned land cases, having had a dinner at my desk, consisting of two shredded-wheat biscuits with milk, and one pear.  Now you can realize what a virtuous, self-appreciative mood I am in.  No man denies himself dinner for the sake of work without being really vain.

And what is this I hear about your having neuritis and going to the hospital?  Damn these nerves, I say!  Damn them!  I have to swelter here because I can’t let an electric fan play on my face, nor near me, without getting neuralgia.  And swelter is the word, for it has been 104-5 degrees, with humidity, to boot, this week.

Nerves—­that means a wireless system, keen to perceive, to feel, to know the things hidden to the mass.  I look forward to years of torture with the accursed things.  The only thing that relieves, and of course it does not cure, is osteopathy, stimulating the nerve where it enters the spine.  But never let them touch the sore place.  That is fatal.  It raises all the devils and they begin scraping on the strings at once.

Well, by the time this reaches you I hope you will be quite a bit fitter.  Avoid strain.  Don’t lift.  Don’t carry.  If you stretch the infernal wires they curl up and squeal.

May the God of Things as they Are be good to you. ...  Mother may know all about us.  How I wish I could know that it was so.  You have the philosophy that says—­“Well, if it is best, she does.”  I wish I had it.  My God, how I do cling to what scraps of faith I have and put them together to make a cap for my poor head.  With all the love I have.

Frank

 To Cordenio Severance

Washington, September 24,1914

My dear Cordy,—­I have just received your note.  Why don’t you come down here and spend three or four days resting up?  Nancy and Anne will be delighted to cart you around in the victoria and show you all the beautiful trees and a sunset or two, and we will give you some home cooking and put you on your feet, and then you will have an opportunity to beg forgiveness for not having gone up to Essex.  I am mighty sorry that you have been ill.  If we had had the faintest notion that you were, we would have stayed in New York to see you, but as it was we came down on the Albany boat and we went directly from the boat to the train.  I think that we would have stopped over two or three hours and seen you anyway if it had not been for the presence of our dog, who was regarded by the women as the most important member of the family.