Perry letters

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with me. They were being entertained during their stay by a friend of mine, Mr. Agres, and so he had already made arrangements with them for dinner, they were unable to accept my invitation. They visited our house though and they seemed greatly interested in some of the rooms. How is the "Doctor" getting along with his patients. Has he made that threatened examination of your mouth yet? I shall probably go home for May 5, night of the intercollegiate debate. Your son with love - Fred.

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Stanford, April 22, 1900

My dear Mother:

You have probably read by this time how U.C. came down to our campus and beat our fellows in the Field-Day. We are not discouraged over this, though, for we never win field-days. We play Berkeley baseball next Saturday and

we'vce got to win it to uphold our athletic honor.

In connection with my thesis I found it necessary to send a circular letter to some fifty presidents of well-known Colleges; nearly all have replied and I now have a great collection of souvenirs in the shape of autographs and personal letters. Several of my correspondents have addressed me as "Professor F. J. Perry." It's a good joke - and the fellows in the house called me for a while, "Professor." Another gentleman became slightly confused in addressing me and the envelope reached me bearing the name "Freak. J. Perry." Then the fellows here got hold of the joke and transferred their affections from Prof. to Freak and now I'm sorry enough I spoke!

Dr. Deichmiller and his wife visited the University Saturday & to-day and I asked them to take dinner

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do it all for you aber nitzki!!! But I'll help you all I can - aber yah!!!

Rome is a big subject to discuss and I should advise you to take some phase of it. In your letter you have the following expression "Picker of Rum." What it may mean I don't know, nor can I even conjecture. It looks like "Picker of Rum" - If this is a drinking club you have joined - I want to reprimand you severely for one of your maturity joining an anti temperance association. Rum is the vice of America and a "picker" of it - well someone will be intoxicated! - Good by

Fred.

Stanford, May 6, 1900.

My dear Mamma:

I am very sorry that I could not go home this week, but stress of work and other things prevented it. I have the usual tale to tell: "Driving hard, finishing up my work, trying to graduate." You have my sincerest sympathy in your illness. I know how it is, because I have been feeling under the weather since last Wednesday. Someway or other

I took a cold, which added to a sore throat which I had been ailing with since Sunday, plus a hacking cough which I would have been glad to dispose of to a woodchopper, left me feeling like the last rose of Summer. Any day, from Wednesday up to last night, I should have sold all my property and ambitions and ideals for a song, just to get rid of the burden of worry that augmented the illness. I tell you with a raging headache I didn't feel like a fighting-cock as I hammered away at that bugaloo thesis of mine.

But I'm feeling O.K. now; for which I am duly grateful.

I trust you and Pa may by this time be rid of your colds.

As to your paper on Romp! Say, you're a "keen gazaber." You want me to write it for you - and do all the work, and then you'll step in, read it to an admiring assemblage, blandly receive all the applause, and unblushing claim it to be the work of your own genius.

Now, a suggestion or two as to that! In the first place I'll

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If Dr. comes down I think it would be best for him to take the 5.30 train. It leaves Valencia St. 10 minutes later. If I cannot meet him at the depot let him come right down to the house. I send a train schedule.

With love,

Fred.

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Postscript

My dear Mother:

Your letter has just been received. If you wish to attend the Prom, come right along. You write in your letter if I remember rightly that you would be down Wed. A.M. but I should be glad to have you come down Tuesday evening. The Prom. is somewhat like a dance only you don't dance - just walk around the Quad to the music of a full boso band.