Eleanor Randolph Wilson McAdoo to Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre

I know that youre not surprised that I have written only one little note to you since you left—but, oh, I'm miserable about it because I thought I could do better than this. These weeks have been just about as wild as those before the wedding—what with dozens of parties and the excitement over the Currency Bill. I've had about six hours sleep at night and not a calm moment any day. There were two days when we didn't know what minute they would pass the bill and we wanted to be there at the great moment and couldn't do anything else except stand on tip-toe ready to rush madly down to the cCapital. One entire day we spent entirely sitting in that uncomfortable gallery listening to republicans introducing amendment after amendment and being voted down—and half an hour after we had to leave for dinner the excitement happened—the bill was passed! Wasn't that too maddening—we sat there from ten o'clock until nearly seven, except for a hasty lunch! I did all my Christmas shopping in about two days—and in desperation sent people things they could never, never use, I'm sure. The little thing I sent my precious Jetty got to you late, I'm sure—they didn't get it engraved in time and then I had to send it to London because I didn't know where you were to be. And we don't know yet, except that we know you're with the Grenfells—and so our cable had to be sent to the Pages—I hope you got it on Xmas day, darling, so that you all could know how we missed you and were thinking about you and wishing, wishing that you both could be with us. Oh, darling sister of mine, I can never tell you how much I miss you and how I long for you—Christmas wasn't a real Christmas without you. And always—all the time—I miss you. Your letters—oh how glad we were to get them, for it seemed ages before we heard (nearly three weeks) weare just so dear and so interesting and so like you. I'm so glad that you had such a wonderful time at the Pages—it all sounded fascinating—and I'm just so proud when I think about what all those people must think of you. Alright, I won't say anything more but that's how I feel all the same and a lot more! Your letters sound so happy, dear—and I'm so happy too because you are. Of-course I knew you couldn't help being anyything but happy with that dear brother of mine. And I'm happy for another reason, too—on my own account. I'm here with the Smiths in New Orleans and Ben is here, too! He got back from Honduras about three weeks ago and has to be here for some time now seeing and corresponding with lumber people and waiting for the Hondurians who own the tract he wants to come to terms. He found something there that looks pretty fine, but of-course it's a very “lengthy” business—dealing with people like those down there—and right now it has to be a waiting game. And he's here seeing about raising the funds, while he waits. Cousin Lucy and Mary have just adopted him—They have made come and live with just as long as he is here—, and it's just so darling and sweet and beautiful of them that I have no words to tell them how I feel. Think of what a lovely home like this will mean to him—does mean to him! Oh, but there the loveliest people that ever happened—and they're so fond of him. He was just about to come to Washington before he settled down here, when we decided to come to Pass Christian and so he waited, and everything is beautiful. We are in a funny, pretty, old house there and Father's going to have a beautiful rest. His cold is all gone and he's looking well, and so is everyody else—tho' we all feel dreadfully tired right now. The Smiths& B joined us over there the day after Christmas—the day after we got there—and last night they and B & I came here. We're going back Wednesday—all of us—the Smiths came back only because they had to see about some work on the house and I came to see Ben undisturbed by reporters and photographers—Oh, I have so much to tell you and not half time enough to say it all in! We let you join in on the presents, dear, just as you said. We gave Father a set of gold and pearly studs and cuff links and you and I gave Margie a lovely shopping bag and she and you gave me a stunning travelling case for my comb & brush and so forth. We were simply at a loss about something to give Mother so we could only frame some photographs for her and give her some little embroidered handkerchiefs and that left you out, I'm afraid. Oh mercy!—no it doesn't!—how stupid I am! Of course the beautiful emerald was your and Frank's present to her. You didn't have to come in on ours—I forgot all about that for a minute. You ought to see how lovely it looks—it's a beauty. And I I have the little Mc Combs watch!—! Oh my, don't I feel ashamed over having talked so much about it, when Mother was going to give it to me all the time! I'm just wild about it.I'm enclosing a little note that Ben wanted me to send. He just told me a moment ago that he forgot to tell you that he tried to send a wireless to you all when he was on the water coming back and you all were going away, but the wireless aparatus on “the old tub” he was on was out of commission.And now—I have to run because it's most time for dinner and heaven forbid that I should keep the Smiths waiting in their own house—that would be worse than all my past crimes.We're going to be south until the eleventh—and we're all gong to be beautifully rested. Give my best love to the nicest brother anybody ever had—and for your darling, darling self my hearts deepest love always and always—I wish I could tell you how much I love you and miss you—The Smiths say to send their love—heaps of it and to say that they're going to write soon. It was so sweet of you, Jetty, to send each one of us a Christmas letter when you're probably busier than any of us. I loved mine so.
Good-bye and all my love—again—to you both