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Saturday I got back from Chicago3 and Cleveland4, and yesterday I began untying huge piles of books that had lain here2 for weeks and weeks. I was delighted to come upon your Made-to-Orders5, and sat down amid string and wrappers to read a little. No, my only nephew6 near that age7 is an Archaeologist! But it shall go to my darling twins8, in their big Christmas package. They’ll love the Polar Bear and the Woodchucks.
I came home through Amherst9 to see the
Whichers10 and my niece Mary Virginia11, who is at Smith. Dear Dorothy,
doesn’t God in his wisdom provide enough troubles for you, that you must go and let
a human cyclone anchor itself upon your mountain? The trouble about this cyclone is
that it has anykind of goodness. pPerhaps I’m wrong, but a long and admiring study brought me
to that conclusion. One doesn’t mind the presence of faults, or vices. But the utter
absence of goodness is so depressing. And when people have consistently demeaned
everyone they have ever touched, they in the
end demean themselves to a point that I, for one, can’t bear to behold.
That was once a queenly head, a savage queen, but with something regal. But now -
-
- - the rest is silence.
I pray God you didn't let yourself be devoured and harried.
With my love Willa