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utes on the paper each day; nor do I at all blame you for doing it. But when you spend upon a newspaper the time that might be better employed, and with better results, and entirely ignore the worthless (?) existence of your boy away from home, I think that I am justified in taking you to task for it. I am sure that I would derive greater pleasure in reading a single line from you than you do from reading the whole paper.

Day after day for the last two weeks I have vainly looked for a letter from home. All sorts of absurd excuses I made to myself to condone the offence, and hoped against fate that I would on the following day receive the longed for news. But the next day fcame and went with the same result.

Well, I guess I have said enough about this, and I sincerely hope that you will in the future answer my letters with a little more haste than you have in the past.

This is a miserable day. The rain is coming down with all the force of a storm, darkening the world outside and spreading its gloom even in my little nest. I can look out of my window and see the roads covered with water. One would think that they were rushing rivers instead