My Dear Bennie,
It seems years since I have written to you - it is disgraceful. Just a lapse though, my dear Bennie, because I love writing to you and I love receiving your letters. They make me feel so happy.
At last I have received your "second letter" with the snaps and yesterday I got your last letter with more snaps. They are simply marvelous! I love them, Bennie.
When I read your letters (the "second" and the last) I couldn't help thinking of that bit of poetry you copied for me. I admit I got quite "oily" around the eyes! I suppose anytime I shall happen to turn up at your home, I shall find the door open to retrieve me and your mother and Auntie Lyddia and yourself ready to welcome me? Gee, life is worth living with friends like this in it!
I have just written a long letter to Nenette (I received one from her the other day) and I told her during the two weeks with you not an angry thought or feeling of annoyance got into me; how my life was all smiles! Of course, I left out the stalling of cars on slopes........*@!!! Her address is c/o Mr. V. R. Hope
I can decipher your letters easily - well, not
too easily but eventually every word is made out. Of course,
the machine is far more efficient in this respect. You go ahead and do it exactly the way you want to. I heard you say that it is quicker on the machine. Well, use the machine. It doesn't seem a bit cold or formal - it was your fingers that pressed the keys, not a secretary's!
Owen has helped you a lot I see. Varnishing floors and fixing up stoves. You naughty fellow; you have never let me do anything for you by the way of helping you when I was over there! Except
pick bugs! There, I admit, I felt satisfied when the job was over: they (bugs) were loathsome!
I am glad that you think that I have summed up Owen's personality fairly accurately. I am not much good at that sort of thing so this is a booster. Nothing like contemplating other people to make you forget your little petty annoyances and worries. You know whom I am thinking about don't you? When I read your "second" letter, I felt very depressed. When you have written it, you still had hopes, you were still struggling, you were full of determination to win, to set her right. And now...But we are better to forget it. Everything possible was done. The patient
would not be cured.
I am getting a bit tired of the rock house. The work is a bit monotonous. I wander around a lot though, and worry poor fellows by requests for information. They are always please to tell me "all about it".
While I write this letter you have already sent me the duplicates of the snaps with the "second letter". I am afraid, but hope not because it is base extravagance to have duplicates. By the word "cluck" I no doubt you meant "cheque", but have written the word "cheque" - check - chuck - cluck. Do you see: (a) simple spelling mistake, (b) evolution of a "ch" into "cl", and simultaneous involution of "e" into "u". Thus "cheque" becomes "cluck" or Darwin is a fake!
You do not want to tire yourself Bennie. Fake it easy. Moderation, Direction, and Restraint work wonders!! I never get tired now. All my nervous energy is being slowly but steadily transformed into physical energy. Soon I shall be like an ox. Or is it possible?
The week after next, I am planning to go to
Toronto for a couple of days to see the
Great Yearly Exhibition there. I shall most probably stay at the friends house; you know the ones I have told you all about. The young lady of the house and I are very good friends, perhaps a bit more (wow) and she wants me to come over all right! You know Bennie, I like her an awful lot. I use the word "like" to be mild. And if you would see her [and you might some day] you would like her a lot too and would compliment me on my taste. But then, I forget, you do not care for girls much, do you? Well, you know I am not much of a shiek, but this girl is a peach. Reminds me of pieces like"Who", "She's a grand grand girl" and above all "The song of Spain". You remember I told you of that wonder piece of music I couldn't remember? Well, I saw it again in Montreal on the way here, and now I can hum it with ease. It is simply wonderful! Whenever I hum the tune I loved to pick up on your piano you know the one, it goes like this: /_.,_ _\,_ _/,__/. | | _ . _.,______ (I remember the times when I danced at Lakewood!) I wonder if you can get the rhythm I am trying to describe. It is a combination of
Morse Alphabet, French accents, and ordinary commas.
I am talking a lot of rubbish! You must be thinking I am going out of my head. Well, anyway, it is too inferiority complexed. It isn't even superiority complex. It is superlative complex of super self-esteem of self satisfied-ego (Gash!) And now from the ridiculous to the sublime:
How are you?............................
When will your holiday end, anyway? Here I am working hard and you are there playing with
potato bugs, amusing yourself with the coroner; in fact simply wallowing in bliss! Well, a lot of healthy exercise with the spade ought to keep you from putting on undue beef! [Please do not think me callous, dear Bennie. I must have some outlet for...er.....elfishness!] I hope it isn't
Selfishness!
Kiss your mother and Auntie Lydia for me. I hope that all is very well with them both. I give you one too, my Bennie, the dearest pal on earth!
Your loving Guigui
