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  Dear Mr. Whitman,

I am delighted with a great rain storm which has just come up & has forced us to send the horses back to the stable, because it gaves​ gave​ me a chance of sending a note to thee by this mid week's post to thamk​ thank​ thee for thy postal card of Aug. 4th, with its good news of strength to stand "The hottest day of the season."

I wish we could import a little of our cool, not to say cold, weather to the other side of the Allantic​ Atlantic​ . The newspapers all speak of it as the 'bleak weather of July & August' & we have all been really suffering with cold almost ever since we came up to Wales. Still we have so many out-of-door pursuits that we like it better than very hot weather. We have discovered a boat on the lake, & have found out that the water is not too cold for bathing, & we have put the tennis court in order, so that in the brief intervals between the showers, we have a great many things to do. This week, however, the 'children' have deserted us: They have all gone off to Cornwall to be with a party of young Quakers who always assemble at Falmouth for the month of August. So Papa & the baby & Frank & I are left to our own devices. I cannot say we have done anything that savours of marked originality so far, as Frank & I have spent nearly our whole time doing work on the markets commission. I am engaged in a fierce contest with this typewriter, but I think I shall soon have conquered it far enough to write a respectable letter. At present I have to spell every wordl​ word​ laboriously though, so I cannot say anything, I am afraid, to interest thee. But at any rate I can send warmest love from Papa & myself & tell thee that we think&​ thank &​ talk constantly of thee.

Thy loving friend, Mary Whitall Costelloe

The rain has just cleared away, so I shall drive with this to the post.