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You would never guess from this travelling-man letterhead what a glorious place it
here. The letter-head is a sham. The
hotel3 is a pink adobe, and Mrs. R. C.
Pooler4 is a Mejicana of darkest brow. We5 are 40 miles from the railroad, up in the Sangre de Christo
mountains, a Mexican town2 of three thousand
without a "frame" house in it, and lovely little towns lying
evey everywhere about us—I stop as five or six in a
morning's horseback ride. Please let me show you some pictures of Taos someday.
This note is written to tell you why you did not hear from me again, and why I did not appoint a day for you to bring your friends6, whom I wanted to see. I had planned several pleasant things—and then I cast away by the first train and didn't stop until I got to Denver7. There are times when I get physically sick of New York8—homesick as children get at school, so that I can't eat or sleep. This year I was engulfed by such an attack, and I'm just beginning to come to the sunny surface of living again.
But you will forgive my erratic behaviour, will you not, and come to see me when I
get back to New York late in the fall? Perhaps your friends will still be there and
you will arrange for me to meet them. I hope you will let me see a good The Columbian Hotel
MRS. R.C. POOLER, PROPRIETOR TAOS, NEW MEX., _____ 191___ deal of you next winter. In April I shall certainly go to Italy9.
Just before I left New York I 'went over' to Paul
Reynolds10, and I take the greatest satisfaction in his conduct of
affairs. He sold for me a story11 which I would never
have tried to sell for
publication—length (15000 words) subject matter, method of narration all absolutely
opposed to magazine requirements.
A word from you, sent to Red Cloud, Nebraska12, would be forwarded to me and would please me very much.Faithfully yours Willa Cather