Glen Ellen, August 24, 1913.
I feel too miserable to write this at my desk. I am sitting up in bed to write it.
First, please remember that I am your father. I have fed you, clothed you, and
housed you, and lovr?l you since the moment you first drew breatty. I have all of a father's -
heart of love tor you.
And now we coca to brass tacks, that have you done for me in all the days of your
llfet rhat do you trrl for met Am I moroly your Eral-tickot? Do you look upon me as merely a
creature with a rhin. or Srj~£Z» or -frnt?.rv_. that eocyels him to care for you and to take care
of ycu? -—-because he is a fool who gives much and receives ..... well, receives nothing*
Please anchor the foregoing questions. I want to know how I stand with you.
You have your drcaaa of education. I try to give you the best of my wiedoa. You
write me about the Acrrxits of the U.C. In relation to selection of high school courses. I reply
by (1) telegrea, (2) tj letter. Ar.1 I receive no word from you. Aa I dirt under your feett As
I t:n:ath your ccntc ;-;■■& in every ray cave as a cool-ticket? Do you love me at all? Ehat do I
r:.p.,s to you?
Answer above queries of mine.
I!/ hora, as yot ura.cupici, burns do.rn-—-end I receive no v?ord frcn you. Sncn you
were slok I come to see you. I gave you flowers and oanary birds*
Now I am sick-—*-and you are silent. }fy home—-one of my dreams9—-is destroyed.
You have no word to say.
Your education is mixed up by conflict between high school and university. You write
ste. I reply by telegram and letter. I spring te help you with my wisdom in your trouble, in
the realization of your dream.
I say, very sadly, that when my dream is ruined, I do not notice that you spring to