Dear Mother,
Things are much better with me today, although they could be better. I am holding right thoughts, and I am trying to do my part. Dick and I went to church this morning, and I enjoyed it. I saw the Dunbars there.
Burke Mordan and I went for about a four hour hike yesterday through the woods. The exercise was great, but the things I picked up do not fall in the same class. I picked up a nice case of poison oak, but I have had that so often that it doesn’t even phase me. But what gripes me is that a very small and insignificant dog took a hunk out of my leg. He did so well that I had to bandage it up. I would say he had a lot of nerve. He might die from it.
I don’t have too much from Annie any more. You don’t suppose she is growing away from me, do you? I hope that it is only because she is busy being a farmer’s daughter. She means a great deal to me, and I would hate to lose her.
I will write tomorrow, Mom.
Brother
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