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I had a pleasant journey, with arrival in cool weather, to find all my family
well. I confess to having you a little, more than a little, on my mind. If
you shake everything and get away to England3 for a few months, you can make[?] the twelve months of the year count
for twice as much. You know that,—and yet detail, that has become magnified
far beyond it's true importance, holds you back. Won't you take a steer
from a very, very well-wishing friend just
this once, break away and go. You know how little machinery counts for as
against personal force. You can let the machine go all to bits and bind it
up again if you are up to your best vitality—and that vitality once gone,
not the most perfect machine in the world will do much to accomplish your
ends. I presume a little in urging to think of this, because detail exhausts
you much more than it does Miss Breckinridge4. She has a harder shell to
protect her for one thing, and her blood doesn't need a certain kind of
nourishment that yours plainly does. Excitement about committees and things
rather stimulates her, and it really impoverishes you. You must know know all this yourself. For God's sake
act accordingly. You'll squander your special power, and life's no good
after that's gone, to yourself or others. Get
away before you have to. Do
send
me
a
line
saying
you've
booked
your
passage!