Letters of Franklin K. Lane eBook

Franklin Knight Lane
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 506 pages of information about Letters of Franklin K. Lane.

So I grew in strength on the little ranch and unwillingly came back for treatment here, which was not half so good for soul or body as to sit in the sun and see the birds daintily pick their crumbs and know that the dog at my knee understood what I did not tell him.

Give to the Ducal lady at Hyde Park my spring greetings, and to the “young lord lover” who bears your name my respectful regards.  I expect to go to Rochester, or elsewhere, in May, and in the meantime think me not silly because I like you and have written of what I like.

F. K L.

To John W. Hallowell

Los Angeles, March 31, 1921

Dear Jack,—­I went to your Church on Sunday.  Now there!  Real Friends.  I wondered, “Why the two doors?” as I went up the steps, but I said, “I’ll take the nearest.”  Someone was talking, so I plumped down in the backmost seat.  Then I looked about and found that I was faced by three rows of sisters, in poke bonnets on a raised platform, at the end of the room.  Around me were women, women, women, and children.  Not a man!

My wits at last came to me.  I discovered there were two rooms really, divided by pillars.  And there were the men, the blessed, homely men.  So up I lifted hat and coat and piled over on the man’s side and breathed again.

The speaker looked like the late Senator Hoar and was intoning or chanting his speech or address or sermon.  I had never heard it done and the cadence was charming.  It adds to the emotionalism of what is said.  When he sat down, there was a long pause, and then a sister, on the opposite side now, quoted, modestly, a psalm.  Two more, a man and woman, spoke.  Then a prayer and at twelve, with one accord, we all rose and went out.

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.


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.

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Letters of Franklin K. Lane from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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