It is the essence of Democracy and I fear the forward there, and not the most worthy of being heard, come to the front. Please tell your mother how good I was! And write me, you scoundrel!
F. K. L.
Postcard to John G. Gehring
April 20, [1921]
On the eastbound train, traveling toward a little man who carries a little knife in his hand and beckons me toward the north. I do not go gladly, because I am feeling so much better. Have had whole days and nights without pain, by the exercise of all kinds of care. Still that is living "on condition." Is there never again to be freedom? You see I am a natural Protestant. Good luck to you, dear man.
LANE
To Hall McAllister
R.R. Train, Minnesota, April 22
DEAR HALL,—I am now on the St. Paul road going to Lake City, where, it is said my son is to be married to a charming, little Irish girl, one generation away from Ireland.
Right now, I am sitting opposite Mrs. Franklin K. Lane who is, in turn, sitting beside my brother who has come East with me as secretary, nurse, doctor, mentor, spiritual advisor, valet, and companion. On my right is the Mississippi river, of which you may have heard. On Sunday I hope to go to Rochester again and then be cut in two, tho' I am not sure they will do it.