Dear Miss Addams --
I can't find my copy of "Christmas Day in the Trenches 1914" but I am [telephoning] to the National Peace Council asking them to send you a copy.
I can't tell you how grateful I am for what you gave me yesterday. It had always been a keen disappointment to me that though I have learnt more from you (<e.g.> how to be psychological without being cynical) than from any other writer, I had always missed any personal talk.
Last night's meeting seemed to me [page 2] quite admirable. The plea for a larger unity did not take sides in the moral controversy as to the responsibility of the nation; it simply [took] showed us that controversy is a new light -- sub specie aeternitatis -- and how well they all spoke. Even your Italian colleague could not make herself insincere.
I honestly believe that your movement may prove to be the little "way-side inn" in which serious negotiations for an armistice may ultimately begin.
I have copied out a sonnet <few lines> which I [page 3] my daughter wrote last November <December>, when we were trying to get accustomed to a darkened London. Her bedroom looks at <down> onto the little suburban valley of Hornsey.
I suppose that we may never meet again -- though it has always been my dream to bring my wife and daughter to Chicago Hull House -- But I shall read everything you write, and write everything of my own with a constant hope that you may read it.
Yours on this poor earth,