NEW YORK, Monday—We suddenly had a spurt of activity in our Committee 3 work and had a meeting all Saturday morning. I did not get away until a little after two o'clock. However, that still gave me time to reach Hyde Park and to give my two little dogs a walk in the country before it was completely dark. There still is enough foliage to make brilliant spots of color here and there in the woods.

Donald Day, author of the Will Rogers autobiography, had spent the day at the Hyde Park Library and stayed with us for the night. During the evening my cousin, Mrs. Randolph A. Kidder, and her husband arrived from New York City, so we had a very pleasant gathering.

On Sunday I went over with my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Harold Clay, to Carmel where their daughter is studying at Drew Seminary. This is the 100th anniversary of the school and they wanted me to talk on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

It was interesting to find that they had a number of girls from foreign countries there. Siam, China, Venezuela and Colombia, among others, are represented. It is not too large a school and the surroundings are pleasant. Carmel itself is a small place, so the girls can have considerable freedom and those who live near enough are allowed fairly frequent Saturdays and Sundays at home.

I found that all the girls here were not planning to go to college. One of the foreign girls was intending to take a business course to help her father run his business and another one intended to develop her music professionally. A third wanted to take a course in the care of babies.

I have always thought it was quite remarkable when 16 or 17-year-old youngsters, boys or girls, had clear ideas of what they wanted to do. I am never very sure that they will actually stick to the thing they choose at that age. Nevertheless, the training is valuable, no matter what one settles down to in later life.

In one of the newspaper magazine sections I saw a delightful picture of little Soviet calves, each in an individual house! The little heads all turn in one direction and it is quite evident that the Communist magazine was showing how happy even the little calves are in the USSR. But a rhyme by Margaret Fishback under the picture is what amused me:

"Enshrined in regimented rows,
They gaze with placid, trusting eyes,
Nor does a thought of future woes
Becloud their proletarian skies....
The classless life, the Promised Land,
Embodied in each tiny stable..
Oh calves, it certainly sounds grand
Until you reach the dinner table!"

The fate of the calves, whether in the Soviet Union or in the U.S.A., seems just about the same. I am not sure that ours, living in less segregated fashion, installed in a stable, don't have a more companionable time!