
A line or two—if only to pierce the distance between us, & to convey my constant love & good wishes.
Another day of midsummer warmth & beauty—Never in my life do I remember to have known such weather so long continued. Every day perfect & like its predecessors. I seem to be living an enchanted life in a new earth.
And I rejoice on your account. Surely you must be
gaining health from it, consciously or not.
I spent good part of this morning in writing letters home. My friends, of course, are interested in all my doings here, & I shall have to report pretty fully on my return. Perhaps my main hope, in connection with my trip, is that I may be able to make a better return for all their affection when I go back. I have reason to be devoutly thankful for my friends, & it is a sacred privilege to me to convey their love to you—the "poet of comrades" & our own dearest friend. If only I may acquire more of your spirit!

This afternoon I read Symonds' poem "Love & Death," & copied most of it for further absorption at leisure. It seems so characteristic of his cultured, sweet & delicate spirit. God be with him & bless him.
Tomorrow I shall be away, so shall not be able to write to you. I go to Forest (near Sarnia) for the day to visit Dr J's aunt.
Dr has some visitors tonight, so I write this (& me to H.T.) in my room—your room. Through the open window I see a few stars out—Jupiter lustrous & dominating—chorus of frogs &c sounding.—

I sometimes wish my friends could see you personally & come into direct contact with you. How their hearts would go out to you! And I am sure you would love them—plain, unaffected, manly fellows that they are.—I am a poor representative of them in anything but love to you.
I think it a blessed Providence that led the Dr to shew me the letters he has that you wrote to Pete Doyle. How our friends will respond to the warm affection & kindness they manifest! Deeper & warmer love to you than ever in their name!
Good night & God bless you. Love to Mrs Davis & Warry & to you above all.
J.W. Wallace
