t Marion, settled for the winter
in New York. They took a house in East Fifty-eighth Street where they
did much entertaining and lived a very social existence, but I do not
imagine that either of them regarded the winter as a success. Richard
was unable to do his usual amount of work, and both he and his wife
were too fond of the country to enjoy an entire winter in town. In the
spring they went back to Marion.

MARION,
MASSACHUSETTS. May, 1901.

We arrived here last night in a glowing sunset which was followed by a
grand moon. The house was warm and clean and bright, with red curtains
and open fires and everything was just as we had left it, so that it
seemed as though we had just come out of a tortuous bad dream of
asphalt and L. roads and bad air. I was never so glad to get away from
New York.

Outside it is brisk and fine and smells of earth and melting snow and
there is a grand breeze from the bay. We took a long walk to-day, with
the three dogs, and it was pitiful to see how glad they were to be free
of the cellar and a back yard and at large among grass and rocks and
roots of trees. I wanted to bottle up some of the air and send it to
all of my friends in New York. It is so much better to smell than
hot-house violets. Seaton came on with us to handle the dogs and to
unpack and so to-day we are nearly settled already with silver,
pictures, clothes and easels and writing things all in place. The
gramophone is whirling madly and all is well-- Lots and lots of love.

DICK.

The following was written by Richard to his mother on her birthday:

MARION, MASSACHUSETTS.

June 27th, 1901.

DEAR MOTHER:

In those wonderful years of yours you never thought of the blessing you
were to us, only of what good you could find in us. All that time, you
were helping us and others, and making us better, happier, even nobler
people. From the day you struck the first blow for labor, in The Iron
Mills on to the editorials in The Tribune, The Youth's Companion and
The Independent, with all the good the novels, the stories brought to
people, you were always year after year making the ways straighter,
lifting up people, making them happier and better. No woman ever did
better for her time than you and no shrieking suffragette will ever
understand the influence you wielded, greater than hundreds of
thousands of women's votes.

We love you dear, dear mother, and we KNOW you and may your coming
years be many