have to dictate my answer to you now; but owing to the consequences of the accident[1] I met with some time ago, writing with the pen gives me a headache and I have therefore to abstain from it as much as possible.
What you say about the death and burial of our dear friend, Dr. Preetorius, I feel with you, as you may well imagine. Ours was one of the most intimate and firmest friendships I have ever known. I should certainly have been in St. Louis to join the throng that accompanied him to his grave and to do the last honors to him, had it been possible. The best I could do was to send my son to represent me, and I hope he did so worthily. He cannot have expressed too warmly the message of affection he carried.
I agree with you perfectly that Nicolay and Hay did not give the Germans of St. Louis who, under the leadership of such men as Dr. Preetorius, rendered the country such eminent service in 1861, all the credit that they deserved. Many books have been written which were deficient in that respect.
I am glad to learn that you will soon pass through New York on your way to Bermuda. I hope that on that occasion you will not fail to drop in at 24 East 91st Street; you know you will be most heartily welcome.
Your supposition that I am no longer troubled by the printer's boy calling for copy is unfortunately not correct. My Memoirs are finished as far as my youth in Europe is concerned. I have also completed the second volume which reaches down to the close of the war, but I am still at work at the third and last, which includes my time in the Senate and Cabinet and what followed. I am now
- ↑ Early in Dec., 1905, as he was getting out of a street-car it suddenly started and caused him a violent fall, his head striking the pavement. After a few weeks he was able to resume his literary work, to some extent, but he never fully recovered from the shock.
