Dear Folks,
Tonight is the eve of our pledge dance. It is to be a morgue; that sounds cheerful, doesn’t it? We have everything hung in black sack-cloth, and there are coffins and tombstones strewn all over the place. You have never seen such a gloomy place. We are all going to wear dark suits and have black mourning bands on our arms, and everything else. We are even going to wear grey gloves. We shall not act like a bunch of mourners, though, I can assure you.
I have studied all day today, and as a result I have a nice headache to show for it. I am in great condition for the dance, buy I will snap out of it.
I am enclosing a letter from the East for Dad to take care of. You just sign the thing and send it back to me. I will take care of sending it back to Chicago. I certainly hate to think of going into debt, but I guess there is no way out of it. I will probably be paying it back for a century. But, as you say, if I never have any heavier indebtedness than that in my life, I will be lucky.
I think I will go to bed for awhile before the dance begins. Goodbye and take care of yourselves.
Love, Brother
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