
Gloriously fine here today, but too warm. I wonder how it is with you. I hope that the heat is not excessive or injurious to you.
I write this in the afternoon—2–30—after a rest & quiet read. Dr is away in town on business.
After writing to you yesterday we had a most enjoyable drive to the town &
back—the Dr's talk (chiefly about you)
being extremely interesting to me.
Alfred Gurd & wife to tea in addition to previous company. After tea, Dr & I went across to the office together. Most lovely evening—the moon just rising, preternaturally large & impressive—Jupiter, near her, shining with a lustre that rivalled the moon's. A glory still in the west, & golden light touching the trees here & there. An indescribable beautiful scene, peaceful, soothing, perfect.
Amongst other things
I wrote to H.L.T. while the Dr attended to his business.
Then, when he was through,
we had a talk I am not likely to forget, in which
he told me of an experience he had in '71, which you doubtless know about.
Home again in the moonlight. Sat for a time in the Verandah looking out on its perfect beauty—figures moving about the lawn seeming of weird & unearthly beauty, in form & movement.
But, lovely as the night was, I was tired & went in pretty good time to bed.
A lazy day today—a little writing, 2 or 3 photos, a
visit to the office &c. I was very much touched & pleased to receive
another paper from you
(The Boston Evening Transcript) & read the passage you marked with interest
Another letter, too, from our indefatigable & dear friend H.L.T.—His letters are always like a cordial to me, & in their zealous, ever kind, & busy comradeship appeal to my deepest heart—& seem like a prophecy, a foretaste, of a new earth. God's blessings on him & his!
I wish I could see you just now & that I could do something for you. I think of you continually with loving sympathy & blessing. May God be with you, in ever-nearing communion & tenderest love & blessing.
Yours affectionately J.W. Wallace


