BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, 8 MAY 1911
BRACERS 17128. ALS. Morrell papers #58A, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.

<letterhead>
Trinity College,
Cambridge.1^, 2
May 8. 1911

My Dearest Dearest

I must write you a line to read for tomorrow morning, altho’ I have no letter from you tonight — not that I was really expecting one. After posting my letter to you, I went up to the only nice wood near Cambridge, and found it most lovely — full of bluebells and nightingales and everything a wood ought to have. Then I had a long talk on philosophical matters with a young Welshman who was puzzled by some of the things in my lectures. Just now I have been hearing that my rooms are to be left me, after a prolonged debate with elaborate pros and cons. College affairs easily grow petty, but I am glad not to have to move. I have finished the American exam-papers, but not the French proofs, which I ought to do tonight or early tomorrow. — Yes, I thoroughly enjoy talking to the young men here and teaching them — it is a means of getting human relations out of my work. I have always found it trying to have so much of my time and thought spent on things that could not enter into most of my human relations, and here that is remedied. The young men who would be considered “brilliant” are generally no use to me, but there are others, quite good at their work but essentially simple, whom I like very much — my Welshman tonight was one of them.

I find myself so full of life and energy and fun that I keep everybody enjoying themselves. — I have had a review by a Positivist which says I am “anaemic” — do you think that is an appropriate adjective? What strikes him so is the habit of admitting unpleasant facts — he thinks with a little more energy one could deny them. It would take a great deal to make me admit the verbal inspiration of Auguste Comte — the prig of prigs he seems to me.

My rooms were given me for another year on the definite understanding that I shall not have a house in Cambridge, so they are not expecting Alys here. I have proposed myself to her for Sat. 20th.

This is a stupid letter full of dull things — but it is such a pleasure to tell you everything, even the most trivial things. Now I must stop. Goodnight my Dearest, my life. You are never out of my thoughts for an instant, whatever I am doing. I have no words for the happiness that fills me. It is so deep and complete and absolute. It wasn’t the moon I wanted, whatever my friends may have thought — it was you.

Goodnight, my heart. Wednesday will be heavenly —

Your loving
B.

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