20
DOCS.
27,
28
MAY-JUNE
1905
So,
what
are
you up to, you
frozen
whale,
you
smoked,
dried,
canned
piece
of
soul,
or
whatever
else
I
would like
to
hurl
at
your
head, filled
as
I
am
with 70%
anger
and
30%
pity!
You
have
only
the latter
30% to
thank
for
my
not
having
sent
you a can
full
of
minced
onions and
garlic
after
you
so
cravenly
did not show
up
on
Easter.[2]
But
why
have
you
still
not sent
me
your
dissertation?[3]
Don't
you
know
that
I
am one
of the
1V2
fellows who would
read
it with
interest and
pleasure,
you
wretched man?
I
promise
you
four
papers
in
return,
the first
of
which I
might
send
you soon,
since I will
soon
get
the
complimentary reprints.
The
paper
deals with
radiation
and
the
energy properties
of
light[4]
and
is
very revolutionary,
as you
will
see
if
you
send
me your
work
first.
The
second
paper
is
a
determination of
the
true
sizes
of
atoms
from
the
diffusion and the
viscosity
of dilute
solutions of neutral
substances.[5]
The third
proves
that,
on
the
assumption
of the molecular
theory
of
heat,
bodies
on
the
order of
magnitude 1/1000
mm, suspended
in
liquids,
must already perform
an
observable
random motion that
is
produced
by
thermal
motion;[6]
in
fact,
physiologists
have
observed
(unexplained)
motions of
suspended small,
inanimate,
bodies,
which
motions
they
designate
as
"Brownian molecular
motion."[7]
The fourth
paper
is
only a
rough
draft
at
this
point,
and
is
an
electrodynamics
of
moving
bodies
which
employs
a
modification of
the
theory
of
space
and
time;[8]
the
purely
kinematic
part
of
this
paper
will
surely
interest
you.
Solo
gives
private
lessons
the
same as
before,
and
cannot
bring
himself
to
sit for the
exam;[9]
I
feel
very sorry
for
him,
for he
leads
a
sad existence.
He
also looks
quite
exhausted.
But
I
don't think
it's
possible
to steer him to
more
bearable
living
conditions-you know how he
is!
Greetings
from
your
A.E.
My
wife and
the
dickey
bird,
who
is
now
1
year old,
send
you
their best
regards.
Send
me
your
paper
soon!
28.
To
Conrad
Habicht
Bern,
Friday
[30
June-22
September
1905][1]
.
. .
But
you
have
become
awfully
serious!
That's what
comes
of
being
a
recluse
in
that
stinking
hole.[2]
If
an
opportunity arises, I
will
mention
you
to
Haller;[3]
perhaps
it would be
possible
to
smuggle you
in
among
the
patent slaves,
which
for
all
that,
you
probably
would find
relatively
pleasant.
Would
you actually
be
ready
and
willing
to
come?
Keep
in mind
that
besides the
eight
hours of
work,
each
day
also
has
eight
hours
for
fooling
around, and
then there's
also
Sunday.
I
would love to have
you
here.
You
would
soon
become
your
old mischievous
self
again.-The value
of
my
time
does not
weigh heavily
these
days;
there aren't
always subjects
that
are
ripe
for
rumination. At
least
none
that
are really exciting.
There
would
of
course
be
the
topic
of
spectral lines;