its old self. Then the General asked us if we would please get up and leave him, as he felt rather nauseated and wanted to be alone; so of course we got up and left. Poor old General, I suppose he is in a decline and won’t be of service much longer, but everyone seems to think highly of him now, and I guess the country would be better off if there were more like him, only younger, of course.
Between you and me, Grandfather, I am not very well satisfied with the way things are being run here. There appears to be a lack of seriousness, particularly in my branch of the service. For instance, I have turned in four or five clues for the Department to work on, and so far as I can make out, nothing has been done with any of them. I cannot get a satisfactory answer when I complain, and altogether it is discouraging to work under such conditions. Sometimes I feel like chucking the whole thing up and taking Mother back home. But of course that is just a temporary spell, you might call it, for nothing could drive me from my duty at a time like this.
Miss Stark, the girl I have written you about, received word from France yesterday that her fiancé would not be able to leave the hospital and start back for two months or more, and of course she feels pretty blue over it. Well, it’s all in the game, grandfather.
Washington, DC, July 8.
Dear Grandfather:
Congratulate me, Grandfather! I am engaged to the dearest girl that ever lived or ever could live. You would be crazy about her if you could see her, which I trust will be in the near future, for she has relatives in Sandusky, the J. F. Hammonds, whom perhaps you know, though they are new people there and I know you don’t get around much anymore. But anyway, if I can get leave of absence, I will come to Sandusky and she will arrange to be there at the same time, and I can bring her to see you, for I know you will be crazy about her.
We are planning to be married in the fall, for neither of us wants to wait long, and I am confident we can get along on my salary.
I am too happy to write much, but I wanted you to be among the first to know. Of course it is unnecessary to tell you her name, as I know I have written about her till you must be sick of my maudlin ravings. But anyway I will tell you: it’s Kathryn Stark, the girl who I once told you was “some peach.” Well, she is, Grandfather, if you will pardon the slang.
Mother is almost as wild about her as I am, and when you have met her and given us your blessing, everything will be perfect.
We think we will have a rather quiet wedding, as Kathryn was engaged to marry a poor sucker who went to France and was so badly wounded that he is through as a soldier, and will be sent home as soon as he can travel. So of course we don’t want any big splurge.
Well, Grandfather, goodbye for this time and I wish it weren’t so much trouble for you to write so you could congratulate me. But never mind; it will be time enough when I see you.
Sandusky, O., July 11.
Capt. Evan Barnes,
Sleuth Department, Washington, DC
Dear Sir:
As you say, it is a great deal of trouble for me to write. Yet I am going to take that trouble once or twice more before my pen and I are too hopelessly rusted.
Your confidence that you will be able to live on your salary pleases me beyond measure and leaves me free to dispose of my modest means as I see fit. I presume that should you, in some daredevil undertaking in behalf of your government, lose sight of discretion in patriotism and perish of, say, poisoned shoe-blacking, your widow would always be well provided for by said government. Nevertheless I beg you to take no needles risk; for the Government, under stress of other weighty matters, might forget.
In view of our relationship and former acquaintance, may I make three requests?
First, that neither you nor your lady nor both of you attempt to visit me here. My physician advises me that any excitement would probably be my death-warrant.
Second, that you forward me the name and address of the poor sucker who enlisted in the infantry right after we declared war, won only a corporal’s stripes though he fought in France a year and is now lying in a French hospital, through as a soldier.
Third, that the letter providing me with the information regarding him be the last you write me, for though it is a great deal of trouble for me to write, it is even more to read.
The Young Immigrunts
By Ring W. Lardner, Jr.1
Preface
The person whose name is signed to this novel was born on the nineteenth day of August, 1915, and was therefore four years and three months old when the manuscript was found, late in November, 1919. The narrative is substantially true, with the following exceptions:
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“My Father,” the leading character in the work, is depicted as a man of short temper, whereas the person from whom the character was drawn is in reality as pleasant a fellow as one would care to meet and seldom has a cross word for anyone, let alone women and children.
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The witty speeches accredited to “My Father” have, possibly owing to the limitations of a child’s memory, been so garbled and twisted that they
