Skip to main content

#0279: Willa Cather to Elizabeth Shepley Sergeant, March 19, 1914

More about this letter…
Plain view:

Guide to Reading Letter Transcriptions

Some of these features are only visible when "plain text" is off.

Textual Feature Appearance
passage deleted with a strikethrough mark deleted passage
passage deleted by overwritten added letters overwritten passage
passage added above the line passage with added text above
passage added on the line passage with added text inline
passage added in the margin passage with text added in margin
handwritten addition to a typewritten letter typed passage with added handwritten text
missing or unreadable text missing text noted with "[illegible]"
uncertain transcriptions word[?]
notes written by someone other than Willa Cather Note in another's hand
printed letterhead text printed text
text printed on postcards, envelopes, etc. printed text
text of date and place stamps stamped text
passage written by Cather on separate enclosure. written text
⬩W⬩S⬩C⬩ Dear Elsie1;

I got both your letters—the first after the second—and have often stared at the fire and contemplated writing to you. But a laziness like a pleasant paralysis came upon me after I once began to get better. Going to the doctor4 every day seemed to take all the time there was, and he usually handled me so roughly that I took a cab home and went to bed. Now I go to him only every other day, and my noddle is healing so fast that I shall be out of bandages in two weeks and wear a patch under, my front hair brought back. I’m afraid to risk bought hair on it until it’s entirely well.

I’m still languid, and my head takes a lot of time, but I am well in every other way and indolent enough to take things lightly. I work a little every morning and after that do nothing; manage to ride on the bus or sit in the Park every fine afternoon—they are so fine just now. I can sleep nine hours without turning over. Never found it such a pleasure to do nothing before. I’m going to see the Hoyts5 some day, when my head-gear is less complicated. I’ve been to the opera twice, because at night I can wear use Fremstad6's Elizabeth7 device8, but it would be rather too romantic to wear on Bank street9, by day. Music doesn’t tire me. But for everything else I’m like a bear in winter time. Not a cross bear now, as I was at first, but stupid and sleepy. Isabelle10 was here almost a month, she went home a week ago. I had my bed-room done over in white while I was in the hospital, and it is not at all depressing now. I had to have new paint and paper on the place before I could come back to it.

But really, the world seems a good place to get back to, and I feel an unruffled good-humor with it these days.—Let me hear how your work goes. The little that I can do in a day amuses me—like a kid’s tea party—but it does not fret me one bit. One behaves so well after a whipping! Send me good word of yourself.

Yours Willa
Miss Elizabeth Sergeant1 4 Hawthorn Road Brookline3 Mass. NEW YORK, N.Y. STA. C2 MAR 19 1914 6 PM