form of self-government such as we had in college. That will
help fit them to go out into the world and govern themselves when
they get there. This shoving children into the world at the
age of sixteen seems terribly merciless. Five of my children are
ready to be shoved, but I can't bring myself to do it. I keep
remembering my own irresponsible silly young self, and wondering
what would have happened to me had I been turned out to work at
the age of sixteen!

I must leave you now to write an interesting letter to my
politician in Washington, and it's hard work. What have I to say
that will interest a politician? I can't do anything any more
but babble about babies, and he wouldn't care if every baby was
swept from the face of the earth. Oh, yes, he would, too! I'm
afraid I'm slandering him. Babies--at least boy babies--grow
into voters.

Good-by,

SALLIE.


Dearest Judy:

If you expect a cheerful letter from me the day, don't read this.

The life of man is a wintry road. Fog, snow, rain, slush,
drizzle, cold--such weather! such weather! And you in dear
Jamaica with the sunshine and the orange blossoms!