NEW YORK, Friday—Here I am back in New York City and I can hardly realize I only left Seattle the night before last!

I ate breakfast on the plane yesterday with a quiet looking gentleman, who was almost my own age, and I thought, therefore, beyond very active war duty. I discovered, however, that he had been to Seattle to see his family for the first time in a year, and was serving in one of the most dangerous branches of the service today—the Merchant Marine.

He had just returned from a trip to far distant shores. I felt that, even if he had been torpedoed, he would find it very difficult to mention it, and would consider it all in the day's work.

During the day, I read Clara Lambert's "I Sing America" and Harry Scherman's pamphlet "The Last Best Hope Of ("of" correct) Earth ," which was written before we were actually in the war. It still says many things that need to be said. For instance, the recognition that the world is tied closely together economically and that one of our troubles is the lag of our recognition of this politically.

That fact can not be repeated too often. Out of this struggle must come a unification by agreement among the peoples of the world, not imposed upon us by force, as Hitler's victory would, but by conference and mutual understanding.

After dinner last night, a friend drove me over to the Naval Hospital in Brooklyn, where I saw Franklin, Jr., who will be laid up a few days longer, but will, I am sure, be ready to rejoin his ship as soon as it returns from present duty.

I am going to Boston today to speak at the Wellesley College Forum tonight. This meeting is sponsored by the International Student Service and the Wellesley College Forum. I shall return to New York City by the night train.

As usual, there is plenty of mail awaiting me. On the whole, the most engrossing piece of work immediately ahead of me is moving out of these New York houses. I must see that everything is sent to the people who really want it, and get into our new apartment, because I hope very much that we shall not move again in New York City. I feel I have now reached an age where I can reasonably expect to stay, wherever I go for the rest of my life.