My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt

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NEW YORK, Friday—Last night I left Seattle. It had been a beautiful day, and my daughter and I, after a very brief time at her office, had gone off for a drive into the Cascade Mountains. There we lunched at Canyon Creek Lodge. A very unique place. The dining room is entirely panelled in handwrought cedar shakes, the natural grain of the wood making such an intricate pattern on the wall that no artist could have produced it with paint and brush. We were home by four o'clock to greet a few guests at tea and to talk over with the grandchildren the short visit we had paid to their school classrooms in the morning. A very charming woman is head of the school, and I liked both their teachers, and the bright and sunny atmosphere in which they work. We went down afterwards to the school auditorium which is also used at the noon hour for lunch. We stepped into the kitchen for a minute, and met the very sweet-faced capable woman who presides over the school lunches, and trains some of the girls as her assistants, thereby giving them the practical experience which they need so much to be useful in their own homes.

The children had supper with us, and then I left for the airport. It's grand to see ones children, but always hard to leave them. However, I hope they will be visiting in the East before many months have elapsed, and I shall certainly look forward to my next visit to Seattle.

Some of you may remember that I told you when I was in the mood I would give you that other inscription from a Charleston, South Carolina tombstone in St. Michael's churchyard. Here it is: 'JAMES LOUIS PETTIGRU, Born at Abbeville, May 10th, 1789.
JUSTICE ORATOR STATESMAN PATRIOT

Future Time will hardly know how great a life

This simple stone commemorates
The traditions of his eloquence, his
Wisdom and his wit may fade,
But he lived for ends more durable than fame.
His eloquence was the protection of the poor and wronged
His learning illuminated the principles of law.
In admiration of his Peers
In the respect of his people
In the affection of his family
His was the highest place.
The just meed
Of his kindness and forebearance
His dignity and simplicity
His brilliant genius and his unwearied industry.
Unawed by Opinion
Unseduced by flattery,
Undismayed by disaster
He confronted Life with antique courage
And death with christian hope.
In the great Civil War
He withstood his People for His Country
But his People did Homage to the Man
Who held his conscience higher than their praise.
And his Country
Heaped her honours on the grave of the Patriot,
To whom, living,
His own righteous self respect sufficed
Alike for Motive and Reward.

Died at Charleston, March 9th, 1863.

This pictures a character and a way of life which is rather unique!

I am about to arrive in Newark, and I will file this and proceed to Hyde Park for the weekend.

E.R.
TMsd 7 May 1937, AERP, FDRL