ou? These YOUNG writers are crowding me to
the wall. I feel thrills of pride when I see us sitting cheek by jowl
on the news-stands. Lots of love.

In February, 1894, Richard was forced by a severe attack of sciatica to
give up temporarily the gayeties of New York and for a cure he
naturally chose our home in Philadelphia, where he remained for many
weeks. Although unable to leave his bed, he continued to do a
considerable amount of work, including the novelette "The Princess
Aline," in the writing of which I believe my brother took more pleasure
than in that of any story or novel he ever wrote. The future Empress
of Russia was the heroine of the tale, and that she eventually read the
story and was apparently delighted with it caused Richard much human
happiness.

PHILADELPHIA.

March 5th.

DEAR CHAS:

I am getting rapidly better owing to regular hours and light literature
and home comforts. I am not blue as I was and my morbidness has gone
and I only get depressed at times. I am still however feeling tired
and I think I will take quite a rest before I venture across the seas.
But across them I will come no matter if all the nerves on earth jump
and pull. Still, I think it wiser for all concerned that I get
thoroughly well so that when I do come I won't have to be cutting back
home again as I did last time. We are young yet and the world's wide
and there's a new farce comedy written every minute and I have a great
many things to do myself so I intend to get strong and then do them. I
enclose two poems. I am going to have them printed for my particular
pals later. I am writing one to all of you folks over there.

DICK.

TAKE ME BACK TO BROADWAY, WHERE THE ORCHIDS GROW

WITH APOLOGIES TO THE WESTERN DIALECT POETS

"I have wandered up and down somewhat in many different lands
I have been to Fort Worth, Texas, and I've tramped
through Jersey sands,
I have seen Pike's Peak by Moonlight, and I've visited the Fair
And to save enumeration I've been nearly everywhere.
But no matter where
I rested and no matter where I'd go, I have longed to be
on Broadway

Where
the
Orchids
Grow.

Some people love the lilies fair that hide in mossy dells
Some folks are fond of new mown hay, before the rainy spells
But give to me the orchids rare that hang in Thorl