
A splendid morning again—blue cloudless sky, bright sunshine, clear atmosphere, & the air cool but tonic & bracing.
And here I am at Fenelon Falls!—"What made you come into this wilderness?" a stranger asked me yesterday. To which the answer was that I came here for a friend's sake.
My dear old friend, Fred Wild!
We are very different in many—perhaps in most respects. May be it is
in good part for that very reason that we have been affectionate friends
ever since we were at school together.
Poor Fred! Things have gone roughly with him in many ways—but he preserves his fresh jollity
& mirthfulness, & his warm affections. & is one of those frank, unaffected, careless
fellows whom most people like at once. What affectations he has are rather of the defiant kind—would
rather one thought him worse than he really is than better.
When he was 20 he came out to Canada, & visited a friend of his father's near here.
Then he got some work to do in this place—at a shingle mill—&
lived here for some months, supporting himself.
He had no intention of staying here, but set himself to see
what he could do in a new country where his
previous training was of next to no use to him,
&, above all, to taste the luxury of manly independence
& self reliance.
He became very friendly with a young farmer here—Tom Rutherford— & during the 16 years since his return has corresponded with him regularly.
Last year he revisited the old place, & had a good time.
I arrived at Fenelon Falls about 4 o'clock yesterday. Tom Rutherford met me at the station & received me with a cordiality & evident delight that touched me deeply. He invited me out to his farm—5 miles away—but I decided to stay here a day—so it is arranged that he comes for me between 12 & 2—that I stay all night with him, & then go tomorrow by boat to a place called Bobcaygeon—returning here at night, & leaving here again on Friday evening.
It would have done you good to see the introductions I got, & the
welcomes I got as "Fred Wild's friend." It did me good anyway,
& I was delighted to find
how affectionately he is thought of here.
At the post office were two letters from Chas. Stewart—an elderly gentleman at Haliburton where I go next—very cordial & kind. One begins
"Yours of the 23rd to hand. It will always be to me a real, genuine, out-and-out, a yard-wide & all-wool,—pleasure to meet any friend of Fred Wild's. So come along."
I have just finished a long letter to Fred telling him all the news, & am both tired of writing & impatient to get out & look round. But it pleases me to tell you all this, our supreme comrade & lover always.
Heartfelt love to you & all best wishes J W Wallace
