Newport. July 14. Dearest Mother. I got 2 letters from Father and one from you here today. I must say I am dreadfully sorry to miss the Summer Meeting - will you please convey the same to Uncle Frank. I still hope I may see Florence. I have decided not to go to N.Y. as it is very hot and a great exertion to travel. H. [Hugo] had moreover arranged that we were only to be there one night. He goes straight there from Chicago and comes here tomorrow for a night and then we go to Boston together and so to Quebec. I am looking forward to getting home! H. writes that Raymond has run him off his feet and he has no time to write to you, but that he has been immensely interested. I arrived here on Saturday evening. I spent the morning in Boston looking at the Public Library, which is, I think, the very best modern thing I have ever seen. The Abbey frescoes are extraordinarily good and the Sargents are not finished yet, but what there is of them is most interesting. He tries perhaps to convey a little too much meaning and one becomes rather lost in a mist of gods and goddesses entangled across the ceiling, but the Crucifixion is very wonderful - and bold. He has placed the Trinity above the Cross, 3 grave Byzantine figures wrapped in one long robe that winds in and out of them, and Bellow the arms of the cross he has bound Adam and Eve to the body of the Christ, 2 crouching, Sistine Chapel-like figures. A very extraordinary conception and singularly successful. Alice and her husband met me at the station and took me to tea at the Embassy. I know nearly all the people there: Mr Wyndham, Mr Norman. The Chargé d'affaires is Mr Raikes, enormously long and kind with a spirit somewhat broken by many years in South America. I live close by in a delightful boarding house and dine and lunch at the Embassy. We bathed on Sunday morning, most amusing; in the afternoon we drove out to the house of one Davies who is an agreeable and very rich old man with a collection of priceless objects, pictures, bronzes, marbles. The house was charming, not at all blatant, with a lovely garden. He has the most beautiful old Persian lustre pots I ever saw. We made great friends over his treasures. The Waterlows and I are dining with him tonight. Yesterday it rained. Mr Waterlow and I went out walking in the afternoon and saw the rock on which Berkeley used to sit and write philosophy - an incongrous association here! Newport is not yet at its best, I'm told; that comes in August. I live in a street of palaces, some of them very attractive, some commonplace and some absurd. Vanderbilt has one entirely of white marble; one gentleman has indulged himself in a baronial hall with battlements. I like Sidney Waterlow, Alice looks very pretty and happy. I still can't fit her into these surroundings somehow. They have both been delightful to me. Now, I write no more! I'm much interested in Father's P. Tariff news. I fancy Chamberlain has dished the party anyhow. This leader from the N.Y. Times may interest Father. Ever your affectionate daughter Gertrude