Intervale - & various other
places - 2 PM - 6PM.
Thursday.Dear Margaret:
A train speeding down the mountains is not much of a place for writing, but I feel like sending you a peaceful word before emerging into Boston riots.
The rain has poured and the cold winds blown save for Sunday afternoon. That was hot and still but we took a long forest trail that ended in Cascade Camp - a place of fern and moss and laughing water and a coolness that never changes. For the rest there have been a few little walks but chiefly we have had to bug [?] the fireside and eat and sleep and watch the mists creep down lower and lower until they were curling over the treetops of the valley itself.
If there had been any hope of clearing and I had not required a cold, I should have gone as far as Greenfield with some New York people who were motoring homewards. I wanted awfully to see the St. Sanders things at Cornish and catch a glimpse of you and the rest of the South Hadley world starting in on its job on Monday - but as it is I am headed for the College Club, Boston. But it seems very uninviting somehow. I am tired of riot zones.
I hope with best [?] intelligent sympathy that you are over your cold and that your spirits are not so low as you prophesized. [sic] I felt amazingly reconstructed and happy after your visit and did a large number of jobs before I departed on the following Friday. Today I think in somewhat disgruntled fashion of the many more I might have done had I not gone and sat in a cloud bank! But of course that is merely the reflection of this Cold Devil, not of mine own self which is always grateful for the yellow cottage and its dear possessors.
Write me at Claflin. I shall be there Monday or Tuesday.
My love to your family and very special love to you. We ought to be together in this beginning business. It takes such a lot of courage. One really does need love or strong drink - with which now a prohibition sentiment I will chastely close -
Yours,
Laura.