ll retain consciousness, and desire for
sympathy, and can see and hear and feel, though my feet are chained.
It is just three months since I arrived. A part of the time we had
beautiful weather, and I could walk on the road a little on sunshiny
days, leaning upon my two sticks. But during the past five weeks, my
out-door exercise has been nil: the roads were too wet and rough. It
has been almost constant fog, rain, wind; and the drip, drip, drip, of
a mist that was wetter than rain. This, I think, has added a little
rheumatism to give name to the pain and stiffness of joints and newly
forming muscles. The change we are about to make will be a new
departure for me--I shall have to try stairs... But I shall have the
dear companionship of Marjorie,[1] who has lived an ideal out-of-door
life here. She will there begin to have regular lessons at home, or go
to kindergarten. I have been reading to her Mary Proctor's "Starland,"
which by your thoughtful prompting she caused to be sent to me through
her London publishers. I am so much obliged to you and to her for
remembering the promise that I should have a copy. It is charming, and
ought to have a wide sale...

[Footnote 1: Her grandchild.]

I must stop; Vida has come for my mail, and is going to the
post-office on her bicycle. She and Mr. Sidney are never so happy as
when taking long bicycle rides on these fine English country roads.

With warmest greetings to Colonel Morse and Ethel, and ever loving
remembrance to you, dear friend, I am, as always,

Ever yours,
J.C.C.

11 BARTON STREET, WEST KENSINGTON,
LONDON, January 29, 1899.

My dear friend:

I have been wondering these many days where you are and how it is with
you. How I have wished that you were near by, and that we could have
taken some of my lonely, painful "duty" walks upon crutches together.
I miss your sympathy and ever ready kindness... I suffer terribly now
with sore and swollen feet--the result of pain, stiffness, strain in
movement, and lack of exercise. But I am stronger. I can now lift my
arms and brush my own hair...

We are having beautiful weather just now. We have had sunshine for a
week, and people go about announcing the fact with joy and surprise,
as if a new Saviour had arisen; all but the Americans, newly come, who
complain about everything, rain or shine...

J.C.C.

LONDON, Jan. 16, 1901.

Dear friend:

This letter is for the family. Poor as i