To Moorfield Storey

CAMBRIDGE, Feb. 21, 1907.

Dear Moorfield,—Your letter of three weeks ago has inadvertently lain unnoticed—not because it didn't do me good, but because I went to New York for a fortnight, and since coming home have been too druv to pay any tributes to friendship. I haven't got many letters either of condolence or congratulation on my retirement,—which, by the way, doesn't take place till the end of the year,—the papers have railroaded me out too soon. But I confess that the thought is sweet to me of being able to hear the College bell ring without any tendency to "move" in consequence, and of seeing the last Thursday in September go by, and remaining in the country careless of what becomes of its youth. It's the harness and the hours that are so galling! I expect to shed truths in dazzling profusion on the world for many years.

As for you, retire too! Let you, Eliot, Roosevelt and me, first relax; then take to landscape painting, which has a very soothing effect; then write out all the truths which a long life of intimacy with mankind has recommended to each of us as most useful. I think we can use the ebb tide of our energies best in that way. I'm sure that your contributions would be the most useful of all. Affectionately yours,

Wm. James.