Woodrow Wilson to Richard Heath Dabney

If your ears have burned or you have had other symptoms of being thought about since that too far-off time when letters last passed between us—it was me! Both during the summer and since our term opened here I have been head over ears in work—during the summer getting together material for a course of 25 lectures on 'administration' which are to be delivered (2 a week) at the Hopkins from February on; and, since we began again here, preparing six new lectures and three recitations a week—so that I have had no time to let anybody know that I was thinking about them, or that I was even so much as alive.

Still, I have had means (independent of leisure) of enjoying the 'Memorials of a Southern Planter.' Mrs. Wilson has been reading it with keenest zest and has delighted me with constant retailings of its contents. What a dear thoughtful fellow you are to think of me so practically in such matters! I thank you from the bottom of my heart. That is certainly a grandfather to be proud of, my dear fellow—as noble a figure as I know of—and nobly Southern—bless the dear old section as it was before the 'Money Devil' entered into it! I wish all the North could read that book: with all its artless—and yet, in the result, artistic—detail, and open their hearts to receive its truth. There were not many men like Mr. Dabney, I must believe; but he was, nevertheless, a type:—a type of what I fear this country will never see again—a type of the chivalrous gentleman—a type of the sort of man whom if the nowadays industrial world could match with a dozen or two of a like humane, noble sort there would be no labour problem: whose conscience was the only kind of arbitrator between master and workman that will ever bring peace and coöperative friendship.The address that came with the book was Bloomington, Ia., as of old: so they did not turn Holmes out after all? I was buried in a little Georgia town all summer and heard nothing about anything. Well, that opens our old subject again. What would you take to come here and take charge of the history (Greece, Rome, France, England, US or modifications as agreed upon)—ten hours a week, in a place where the authorities strongly wish lectures to be bear as large a proportion as may be to text-book recitations? I did not get an assistant for this year (the consequence being that only political science—no history—is being given this year) and our ill success in finding any such man as we wanted (the salary that was offered being what it was) has set the people here upon the idea of importing somebody from England. The plan does not grow upon me much and I think I shall 'kick'; but in any case you would be my first choice. We can offer more this time. The talk is of $1,200, but I think an effort might bring it up to $1,500. A man could live easily by himself on $1200; but there's no avoiding the fact that this is an outrageously expensive place to live—as well as a difficult place to get house-room to live in—and nobody ought to venture to come here married on a cent less than $1500—with promise of a timely advance. I want to put the thing as frankly as possible, because I am extremely anxious to get you here—and if I succeed I wouldn't for my life have you disappointed through my instrumentality. The advantage of coming here would be a geographical, atmospheric advantage, not at all a pecuniary advantage: for the biggest salaries they pay here are small when judged by the cost of living.

Let me have your views in full, therefore, old fellow—and a full account of yourself—if you come east for the Xmas holidays cant you give us just a scrap of your time one way or the other? It would do me an immense deal of good—you could see the place—and—it would be jolly!—The next best thing—though next by a long remove—would be a long letter from you.

Mrs. Wilson sends her warmest regards and her added prayer that you will come and I send all the old-time affection of