I’m too ill to write, but I must. Try, if you can, to invent some plausible excuse for me, and tell Charlie about it. I can’t possibly write to him. I tried—I really tried—to arrange the papers so that he’d get only a favorable impression from them; but I couldn’t—and I couldn’t let him find mother out. If he had, he’d have been hurt, and he’d have filled his book with reservations. He’s terribly conscientious. I couldn’t bear to have poor mother’s name injured, even if she did treat me badly. She did a lot of good in her way, and she was rather magnificent. So one night I dropped the papers overboard, journal and all. It’s a great deal better so.
I sha’n’t stop till I get to Assisi. Don’t let Charlie be angry with me. I trust you to understand.
Ever sincerely yours,
MARGARET LONGBOW.
I give the letter in full because it explains why no complete biography of Mrs. Longbow has ever been published. Conscientious Charles, naturally, has been unwilling to write a two-volume life without the essential documents, and Margaret has never put her recollections into a book. Helen Bradford’s pompous work, “The Public and Private Life of My Mother,” hardly serves as a biography; it really gives more information about Mrs. Bradford than about Mrs. Longbow. To supply the public’s need of an intimate picture of the great philanthropist I have here set down my impressions of her.
THE WIDENING FIELD OF THE MOVING-PICTURE
ITS COMMERCIAL, EDUCATIONAL, AND ARTISTIC VALUE