One of my friends has suggestively sent me Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy. To offset it I went out at once and bought a new suit of bright homespun clothes and a red overcoat—pretty red. In addition I have a New Thought doctor giving me absent treatment. I am experimenting with Hindu deep breathing, rhythmical breathing, in which the lady who runs this hospital is an adept. And what with an osteopath and a regular and a nurse and predigested food, I am not shirking. If melancholy gets the better of me now— Kismet!
Tell your dear Lady that it was infinitely good of her to write, (and she has, I may say, quite as brilliant a pen-style as speech.) And one day I shall write her when the world looks better. My best reading has been William James’ Letters; and that which amused me most a new novel, entitled Potterism, by Rose Macauley, which cuts into the cant and humbug of the world right cruelly. I see your beautiful serene landscape and envy you. And I envy those who hear your hearty chuckle each morning in the Inn. As always,
F. K. L.
To John W. Hallowell
New York, December 9, 
Dear Jack,—I have tried out New York again and find it lacking as before. No help! They do not know. ... So I am going to Californi...A. I wish I were to be near you—you really have a special old corner in all that is left of my heart. And one of these days well indulge ourselves in a good time—a long pull together again.
I have been reading William James’ Letters—and real literature they are—far better than all your novels. What a great Man—a mind, plus a man. Not to have known James in the last generation is to have missed its greatest intellect; Roosevelt and James and Henry George were the three greatest forces of the last thirty years. Sometime when you come across a good photo or engraving or wood-cut, or something, of James, will you buy it and send it to me? I want a human one—not a professional one. I guess he couldn’t be the pedantic kind anyway.
Billy Phillips has a new baby-boy born Monday.
My plan is to leave here in a week, go to Washington and see Nancy, and get a glimpse of some of my old people in the Department, thence to South Carolina and then probably California for two or three months. Ah me—most people would think this luxury—I think it hell! But it may be for my great spiritual good. Certainly if I could have you to walk with for these months, and more of William James to read, I could take a step or two forward.
Have also been reading a bit of Buddhism lately. It is too negative—that is almost its chief if not its only defect, as an attitude toward life. It won’t make things move but it will make souls content. And I can’t get away from the thought that we are here as conquerors, not as pacifists. I can’t be the latter, save in the desire.