To make the above clear I should explain some of the customs here. Until Papa gets home, my status has to be through Gramp as a friend he plays chess with; it can't be anything else even though he-and perhaps Mama- believe that I am Uncle Ned's son. Why? Because I am a "young" bachelor, and by the local rules a married woman cannot have a young bachelor as a friend, particularly when her husband is out of town. The taboo is so firm I don't dare give even the appearance of violating it...on Mama's account. Nor would she encourage me to. Nor would Gramp permit it.

So I'm welcome in my own home only if I go there to see Gramp. If I telephone, I must ask for him. And so on.

Oh, it's permissible, on a rainy day, for me to offer a ride home to members of the Smith family at church. I am permitted to do almost anything for the kids as long as I don't "spoil" them-which Mama defines as spending much more than five cents on one of them. Last Saturday I was allowed to take six of them on a picnic in my automobile carriage. I am teaching Brian to operate it. My, interest in the kids is considered understandable by Mama and by Gramp because of my "lonely" and "deprived" childhood as an "orphan."

The one thing I must never do is to be alone with Mama. I don't go inside my own home unless publicly accompanied by Gramp; the neighbors would notice. I am meticulous about it; I won't risk causing Mama trouble with a tribal taboo.

I am writing this at my apartment, on a printing machine you would not believe, and must stop in order to take it downtown and photoreduce it twice, then etch it and laminate it and seal it for Delay Mail and deliver it to a drop-which kills a whole day, as L must use a rented lab and destroy intermediate stages as I go; this is not something I dare leave in an apartment to which a janitor has a key. When I get back from South America I'll make my own lab setup, one I can carry in an automobile. Paved roads will be more common this coming decade and I expect to travel that way. But I want to continue sending these letters and by as many Delay Mail drops as possible, in hope that at least one will last through the centuries and reach you. As Justin put it, the real problem is to get one to last through just the coming three centuries-I'll keep trying.

All my love to all of you,

Lazarus

DA CAPO-V

MARCH 3, 1917: KAISER PLOTS WITH MEXICO AND JAPAN TO ATTACK USA-ZIMMERMANN TELEGRAM AUTHENTIC

APRIL 2, 1917: PRESIDENT ADDRESSES CONGRESS-ASKS WAR

APRIL 6, 1917: AMERICA ENTERS WAR-CONGRESS DECLARES "A STATE OF BELLIGERENCY EXISTS"

Lazarus Long was as taken by surprise by the date of the outbreak of war with Germany as he was unsurprised by the fact itself. He was caught so flat-footed that it was not until later that he analyzed why the "hindsight" he had relied on had proved even more myopic than foresight.

The resumption of unrestricted U-boat warfare early in 1917 had not surprised him; it fitted his recollections of his earliest history lessons. The Ziminermann telegram did not disturb him even though he did not remember it; it matched a pattern he did remember-again from history, not the direct memories of a very small child-a period of three years, 1914 to 1917, when the United States had inched slowly from neutrality to war. Woodie Smith had been not yet two when the war started, not yet five when his country got into it; Lazarus had no firsthand memories of foreign affairs of a time when Woodie had been too young to grasp such remote improbabilities.

The timetable Lazarus had fixed on, once he discovered that he had arrived three years early, had worked so well that he did not realize that its "clock" was wrong until the event slapped him in the face. When he was able to take time to analyze his mistake, he saw that he had committed the prime sin against survival: He had indulged in wishful thinking. He had wanted to believe his timetable.

He had not wanted to leave his newly found first family so quickly. All of them. But especially Maureen.

Maureen- Once he decided to stay on till July 1 as originally planned, after a long night of wrestling with his troubled soul-a night of indecision and worry and letters written and destroyed-he discovered that he could stay and treat Mrs. Brian Smith with friendly but formal politeness, avoid any sign of interest in her more personal than the mores permitted. He managed to shift to his celibate mode- happy to be near her when it was possible to be so without causing Mrs. Grundy's nose to twitch-or the even sharper nose of his grandfather.

Lazarus had indeed been happy. As with Tamara-or the twins-or any of his darlings-coupling was not necessary to love. When it was expedient, he could bank the fires and forget it. He was never for one instant unaware of the tremendous physical attraction of this woman who had been his mother more than two thousand years ago (in some odd direction)-but the matter was shelved; it did not affect his manner or lessen his happiness when he was permitted to be near her. He believed that Maureen knew what he was doing (or refraining from doing) and why, and that she appreciated his restraint.

All during March he sought approved ways to see her. Brian Junior wanted to learn to drive; Gramp ruled that he was old, enough, so Lazarus taught him-picked him up at the house and returned him there-and often was rewarded with a glimpse of Maureen. Lazarus even found a way (other than chess) to reach Woodie. He took the child to the Hippodrome Theater to see the magician Thurston the Great-then promised to take him (when it opened for the summer) to "Electric Park," an amusement park and Woodie's idea of heaven. This consolidated a truce between them.

Lazarus delivered the child home from the theater, sound asleep and with no more than normal wear and tear, and was rewarded by sharing coffee with Gramp and Maureen.

Lazarus volunteered to help with the Boy Scout troop sponsored by the church; George was a Tenderfoot, and Brian was working toward Eagle. Lazarus found being an assistant scoutmaster pleasant in itself-and Gramp invited him in when he gave the boys a lift home.

Lazarus gave little attention to foreign affairs. He continued to buy the Kansas City Post because the newsboy at Thirty-first and Troost regarded him as a regular customer- a real sport who paid a nickel for a penny paper and did not expect change. But Lazarus rarely read it, not even the market news once he completed his liquidations.

The week starting Sunday the first of April Lazarus did not plan to see his family for two reasons: Gramp was away, and his father was home. Lazarus did not intend to meet his father until he could manage it naturally and easily through Gramp. Instead he stayed home, did his own cooking, caught up on chores, did mechanical work on his landaulet and cleaned and polished it, and wrote a long letter to his Tertius family.

This he took with him Thursday morning, intending to prepare it for Delay Mail. He bought a newspaper as usual at Thirty-first and Troost; after he was seated in a streetcar, he glanced at its front page-then broke his habit of enjoying the ride by reading it carefully. Instead of going to the Kansas City Photo Supply Company, he went to the Main Public Library's reading room and spent two hours catching up with the world-the local papers, the Tuesday New York Times where he read the text of the President's message to Congress-"God helping her, she can do no other!"-and the Chicago Tribune of the day before. He noted that the Tribune, staunchest foe of England outside the German-language press, was now hedging its bets.