mountains.

The work itself made its strong appeal, too. Professor Henry Morse
Stephens and Professor Miller of the University of California had long
urged Carl to go into teaching; and at last we decided that, even if it
meant living on husks and skimmed milk all our days, at least we would
be eating what there was to eat together, three meals a day every day.
We cashed in our savings, we drew on everything there was to draw on,
and on February 1, 1909, the three of us embarked for Harvard--with
fifty-six dollars and seventy-five cents excess-baggage to pay at the
depot, such young ignoramuses we were.

That trip East was worth any future hardship we might have reaped. Our
seven-months-old baby was one of the young saints of the world--not once
in the five days did he peep. We'd pin him securely in the lower berth
of our compartment for his nap, and back we would fly to the corner of
the rear platform of the observation car, and gloat, just gloat, over
how we had come into the inheritance of all creation. We owned the
world. And I, who had never been farther from my California home town
than Seattle, who never had seen real snow, except that Christmas when
we spent four days at the Scenic Hot Springs in the Cascades, and skied
and sledded and spilled around like six-year-olds! But stretches and
stretches of snow! And then, just traveling, and together!

And to be in Boston! We took a room with a bath in the Copley Square
Hotel. The first evening we arrived, Nandy (Carleton, Jr.) rolled off
the bed; so when we went gallivanting about Boston, shopping for the new
home, we left him in the bath-tub where he could not fall out. We padded
it well with pillows, there was a big window letting in plenty of fresh
air, and we instructed the chambermaid to peep at him now and then. And