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Letter to her mother describing a trip to the beach and the circus with Brent, her desire to travel, Stocky's summer plans, and the theme for Float Night; and discussing arrangements for her mother to visit Wellesley at the end of term and their new family pet.


5/7/34 [stationary heading] News from Wellesley College WELLESLEY COLLEGE PRESS BOARD Wellesley, Massachusetts Release Dearest Mine, Sunday evening, a bit cooler, a day spent in writing letters, going to church, going for a walk doing some bible and a dash of Comp. But a beautiful day. Oh yes, I've read the paper through too. How'd you like the Wellesley publicity. Sorry I'm a bit out of focus on that one---just too far behind the winner to get in to the picture. Oh, but yesterday was the sort of day you think about but don't get very often. And the day at the beach with Brent was very much worth while. We went down to the Cape, somewhere near Plymouth, 4 of us, in a brand new Dodge roadster, buff color, with a radio, cushiony leather rumble seat, low swung and powerful body, and the wind in our faces. It was simply grand. I wore my yellow with the sun tan back, and was most thankful, as the sun was so very hot. I got a beautiful start on a summer’s tan. The other boy’s mother had put up the lunch--the most luscious images of chicken, cheese-, celery and olive, cookies, little cheeses, coffee, bananas etc. Found a spot on the beach, spread our blankets, and stuffed! Then rolled over on our respective backs, and gazed at the ocean. It was very calm, very blue, and somehow clean. Then we race along the shore, walked back after resting on some brush grass and talking about the trip to Russia Brent is taking the summer, and played ball very strenuously. But it was bad for the growing wanderlust feeling I'm acquiring! It seems as if so many people I know are traveling this summer. Maybe it's because I'm used to moving from one place to another, but I've got an awful yen to go places---anyplace….to walk over a Scottish moor, to ride for hours on a chestnut horse over English countryside, to stroll thru Irish villages and see shamrocks growing, to float along a Dutch canal, to see the sunshine of an Italian sea, to sail thru the fiords [mis-spelling: fjords] of Norway! But that’s a very bad policy! In my sane and practical moments, I apply a little common sense, and put the lid back on reality. Probably it was the ships we saw as we drove back along the shore, past beautiful houses set up on high rocks overlooking the sea, past funny little boats at anchor in the bays, and then seeing a big steamer going to New York or Liverpool or Constantinople, who knows! But it was a gorgeous day anyway, and I came back with the sort of glowing feeling, of rightness, of being wind swept [mis-spelling: windswept] and expanded. Sounds funny, but it was very real. And I have an idea that even tho there are so many things to see, I'm going to see some of them, if I have to bum my way there and back! We climaxed the day with “going to the circus.” Most extraordinary. We have, for the first time in America, the most daring girl in captivity. She will swing from the trapeze half way across the arena to catch at a swinging rope. La-a-dies [mis-spelling: Ladies] and gentlemen---look this way. Peanuts, ten cents, peanuts, peanuts, buy a western hat, only 50 cents, be a real six-shooter. Take one home to the kiddies. A real western somer-ero-o-o-o. OOh lookit [mis-spelling: look at] the elephant, he's dancing a jig. And the other one's got a lady in his mouth. Whe-e-e! Oh I wish he'd get off that bicycle, it'd be an awful long fall. Yeah, some mixup if they all fell, 2 bicycles, a chair, those long poles, and 6 people! Oh don't talk like that till they get across! There, thank goodness! Oh there are three real little pigs chasing the big [Page 2] bad wolf. And a lady in pink tights hanging by her teeth. Ah, the last act----there goes 2 men getting shot out of the cannon. People clap, pick up coats they won't need, and meander to the door---all 7 or 8 thousand of them. And we find our way to the car, stop for chocolate pecan sundaes in Cambridge, and admire the lights mirrored in the Charles. Then we talk about the Pop. concerts in Boston where the symphony plays everything from Victor Herbert to the Carioca and on beyond, while the audience sits around drinking beer and eating pretzels. We also get [mis-spelling: got] an invitation to attend one of these traditional affairs in the future sometime, and finally arrive home, put cocoa butter on our back and arms and drop with a contented sigh into our bed by the window. Which reminds us that we promised ourselves that we should entice Morpheus early tonight, and that this would be a good time to get started. After 2 late nights in succession, we have upset a bit our schedule. Friday, went to a symphony concert with Stocky. No startling reports. Everything much as usual. Stocky very nice. Has been elected Senior Class president. Will probably be very busy from now on. Has a job teaching Chem. in summer school here, while taking some courses and working on his thesis. And I shall be summer schooling too. But I don't think it will be too awfully bad. If I can only get a class that comes in the morning. Must write for a catalogue. Oh, about Tree Day. You want to come Friday night if it's at all possible, cause that's really the big nite. The crews race for one thing, and then the floats parade past, the theme of which is Grimm's fairy tales. They say it is lovely. Do you think you can get here by Friday night? Mrs. Underhill may not be able to arrive till Saturday, and again she may. Lee hasn't heard definitely. But we’ll engage the pink room at the House on the Hill if that's agreeable. Or any other suggestions of your preference. How was the Schubert Club? I can imagine--and awfully glad you could go. I always liked Florence Ferguson anyway, Where did you get the addition to the family? I'm so anxious to see it. Suppose he'll be all grown up when I do get to cuddle him, (it is a him, isnT it) but I'll bet he's darling. How about calling him Pschugewoggle? Schnuggy for short. Or do you think he’d get twisted up answering to that nemenclature [mis-spelling: nomenclature]? Well, I guess Ginger’d better trot off to bed. Have to write a description for this Friday. Whatever became of that one about the cold that I dashed off for you last year? I might elaborate on that, if it were anywhere around. Don’t hunt and hunt for it, but if you happen to run across it, stick it in an envelope and slip it along. Might as well serve two purposes---if it's convenient. But I must stop sometime, so Love and 17 hugs (2 for back interest) Ginger


Wellesley, Massachusetts; Schenectady, New York


Arts, Theater and Music; Home and Family; Student Life


Automobiles; Beaches; Circus; Travel; Men; Float Night

Letter from Virginia Veeder Westervelt, Wellesley, Massachusetts, to Mrs. Millicent Veeder, Schenectady, New York, 1934 May 7