BR TO DORA RUSSELL, 18 MAY 1924
BRACERS 19960. ALS. McMaster
Proofread by K. Blackwell

<letterhead>
307½ COLLEGE AVE.,
ITHACA, NEW YORK
18 May 1924

My Darling Treasure,

I am spending my birthday in a rare oasis with a quiet bedroom and sitting room overlooking lovely country of lakes and mountains, and with no duties except to breakfast, lunch, and dine with Professors. I need the rest, having had a strenuous time. The day before yesterday I started from Brunswick Maine at 7.40 in the morning, arrived at Wellesley just in time for an afternoon lecture, was taken on by motor immediately to Harvard where I arrived just in time for an evening lecture, was motored from there by young Lamont (of Morgan’s) to Boston just in time to catch the night train to Albany, which I had to change out of at 6 a.m. yesterday, and then travel all day in slow trains, arriving here just in time for an evening lecture. But today, after 9 hours sleep, I am as fit as a fiddle.

The mail due yesterday has not reached me yet. No doubt I shall get it tomorrow at Buffalo. So I haven’t had letters from you for some time. I don’t know whether you have gone to Carn Voel, or what Chelsea has decided. I sent £500 to Withers for you by yesterday’s mail. There will be £300 or £400 more which I will bring with me.

This time in America is intolerably dreary, but it is worth it for the sake of the children. A fortnight from today I shall be on the sea, and three weeks from today or tomorrow you will be in my arms — I hardly dare think of it, I long for it so much. I still dream about you and John constantly, and less often about Kate. I have met Americans whom I like, but of course I don’t see enough of any one to get far, and I am so busy that I forget them next day. I like Kallen, and I like the sister-in-law of his room-mate, Mrs Wolman (quite platonically!). But except at Kallen’s, I never see people twice. I get so sick of answering when I landed, when I sail, and how far West I have been. When I tell them St. Louis is my furthest West, they proceed to ask “Then you have not been to the Pacific Coast?” I have not met one who would draw this inference for himself, or would spare me the reply. The general level of intelligence is extraordinarily low.

I breakfasted with Professors, and now I must lunch with them. I also have to dine with them. So even an off day has its labours.

My darling, my Heart’s Love, I do long for you and for home. How happy we will be all the summer. I shall look for you on the dock at Liverpool — and count the hours till then. A thousand kisses and all my heart.

B