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in the Alhambra Valley, he showed me the new arrangement of his books and especially the best and most complete edition of Thoreau, which he prized. At the end of that day we decided he must leave that old house - either leave it or live more humanly in it be taken] care of in short, for he was alone and too often forgetting meals. He begged off for a week. That week became three and then when he finally came away it was to die within ten days of rapid pneumonia. He was full of unclear, with no idea he was seriously ill, and in the midst of smiling and talking he leaned his head back against the pillow and was gone. A beautiful ending - but too too soon. Sincerely yours Katharine Hooker