Dearest Friend
I have been lying in bed all day, not only because it was Sunday and I was tired and could rest, but because for the last forty–eight hours there has been a threat in my left shoulder of my old enemy, neuritis, as nasty a beast as every attacked poor human flesh, — and a mean coward, besides, for the sneak comes only when a fellow is worn out and there is no fight in him. Maybe, this time, it is only a touch of cold. At any rate, this evening it is better and I am cheerful enough. This slight ailment of mine does not interest me as much as your own health. We have had no letter from you this week, and that naturally makes us a little apprehensive lest you should have had a reaction after all your tragic struggle. Please let us know. The week has been a very interesting one with us. The meeting with the two Houses in joint session went off famously, most naturally and pleasantly, and even the carpers were silenced. It was very simple. A long precedent was broken, but nobody heard the smash and no one was hurt or shocked. The next day I went to “the President's Room" alongside the Senate chamber (which had not been made such use of since Lincoln's day) and conferred, on the tariff, with the Democratic members of the Finance Committee, without the least discomfort atdoing an unusual thing. On Thursday I went to the opening game of the foot–ball season and tossed out the ball to start the game. Last night I dined with the Gridiron Club (where public men are periodically grilled) and received my first public discipline as President, responsible to all who look on. It was very amusing and very instructive, in a way, and I was treated with singular sympathy and consideration, as if they really liked and admired me, and were a wee bit in awe of me! Fancy! Can you imagine it? I was a good deal moved, and very much stimulated. And so, step by step, am I being more and more thoroughly inducted into office. Meanwhile how constantly do our thoughts turn to the dear brave lady who has again proved her mettle against hideous odds — and her power of love, love that acts and succours and redeems! May God bless and keep her! Love from all
Woodrow Wilson
