it. It is not yet opened to the
public. I talked to every one I met and saw much that was pathetic and
human. It was the first pioneer settlement Cecil had ever seen and the
American making the ways straight is very curious. He certainly does
not adorn whatever he touches. But never have I met so many
enthusiastics and such pride in locality. To-night we reach the Hotel
Louvre, thank heaven! where I can get Spanish food again, and not
American ginger bread, and, "the pie like mother used to make." We now
are on a wretched Spanish tug boat with every one, myself included,
very seasick and babies howling and roosters crowing. But soon that
will be over, and, after a short ride of thirty miles through a
beautiful part of the island, we will be in Havana in time for a fine
dinner, with ice. What next we will do I am not sure. After living in
that beautiful palace of Morgan's, it just needed five days of the
"Pinero's" to make us enjoy life at a hotel-- If we can make
connections, I think I will go over to Santo Domingo, and study up that
subject, too. But, even if we go no where else the trip to the I. of
P. was alone well worth our long journey. I don't know when I have
seen anything as curious, and as complicated a political existence.
Love to all of you dear ones.

DICK.

HAVANA--April 9, 1906.

ARTHUR BARTLETT MAURICE, ESQ.

MY DEAR MAURICE:

I have just read about myself, in the April Bookman, which I would be
very ungrateful if I did not write and tell you how much it pleased me.
That sounds as though what pleased me was, obviously, that what you
said was so kind. But what I really mean, and that for which I thank
you, was your picking out things that I myself liked, and that I would
like to think others liked. I know that the men make "breaks," and am
sorry for it, but, I forget to be sorry when you please me by pointing
out the good qualities in "Laquerre," and the bull terrier. Nothing
ever hurt me so much as the line used by many reviewers of "Macklin"
that "Mr. Davis' hero is a cad, and Mr. Davis cannot see it." Macklin
I always thought was the best thing I ever did, and it was the one over
which I took the most time and care. Its failure was what as Maggie
Cline used to say, "drove me into this business" of play writing. All
that ever was said of it was that it was "A book to read on railroad
trains and in a hammock." That was the verdict as delivered to me by
Romeike from 300 revie