On Tuesday I lunched with the BELLAMYS, to say good-bye. Mrs. BELLAMY
made herself very agreeable. Somebody, so she said, had told her
that my chances at Billsbury were excellent, and she declared she had
always admired young men who devoted themselves with a single-hearted
purpose to the service of their country. So different from the crowd
"Of shallow-pates, who scorn laborious days. And shun the rugged paths
that lead to praise." This is a familiar quotation from the works of
"your grandfather, the poet." Mrs. BELLAMY quotes him on all possible
occasions. A long time ago she gave me a beautifully bound copy of his
book, "_Per Ardua_, by HENRY GATTLETON, M.A." I've got a notion she
has a whole room-full of the unsold copies, somewhere at the top of
the house.
After luncheon had a long talk with MARY, who really looked prettier
than I've ever seen her. She said, "Now that you have got into what
Mamma calls 'the vortex of politics,' I suppose you'll despise all
our simple little amusements, and begin to forget everybody except
the Billsbury voters." I asked her how she could say such a thing,
told her I never could forget the happy hours I'd spent with her at
Exhibitions and dances, and so forth, and assured her I loathed the
Billsbury voters (which, by the way, I really think I do).
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