Dearest, Things progress as usual, except that among other things, I've been combatting a cold for the past 3 or four days. I had a quiz in Gynecological and Obstetrical pathology yesterday – Guess I hit it all right, but not any too well – and furthermore there's a possibility of a quiz in obstetrics tomorrow. I had an interesting case in the dispensary today; and my diagnosis was as good as any ones else, so that tickled me a little bit. Only a couple of months till the next siege of exams – and then a few weeks more, and I'll be seeing you. Somehow – I've got the blues a little bit tonight, + I sure wish you were with me, to shove them off or chase them away as the case might be. Tomorrow I take a half-hour ride out to Bay view. The nut factory is located out there + and we look them over about once a month. Bively + his girl have just come in – I asked her what to tell you and she said, “I love you.” So consider it said, dear. I only wish that I could think of ...
Dearest Helen (alias Texas) When you've been in class all morning long, listening to boresome lectures, and you come home all tired out, and then – you get a longer letter from your girl than you've had for a long time, a letter full of darlings, and honeys and with an “I love you” at the end, “Ain't it a grand and glorious feeling? I says it is. I've just finished tinkering with my pipe. The bowl was so big that it took me an hour to smoke a pipeful, so I put a kind of a plug in it like this: tobacco bowl plug [drawing of pipe with actual tobacco in its the bowl] how do you like that. You never have told me about the bet. You say that you love me, darling; but how am I to believe you, when you accept such a wonderful bet. If you really do love me, you can't lose. Now, Can you? Well, in just about 2 ½ more months I'll be seeing my old sweetheart again, and then I'll know whether she loves me or not. You sure are lucky sleeping till 10:30, 11:30, 12:30.etc, ...
Sept. 28 Dearest : Yes, I feel that way. Your letter came – true – but a little too early to be the herald of October. I feel humble when I write this letter and I want you to remember this when you read it. I have already answered your letter once, in a harmony with yours ___ but I have burned it after a day of thinking it over. I can't go on this way indefinitely. News, news and all the rest that is superficial but not much of you. It is true also that in a way I should be content – I am not. There is something that torments and irritates. I am afraid I fail to quality in the Griselde class. Perhaps they no longer exist as in 1600. Any how, I love you. I think you do or did or will love me and so I am not content without at least some of you. If you by any chance think this impudence, be frank with yourself and me. Memory is a cherished posession, but it doesn't suffice for me in harboring you as I would. I would like to say all the pretty little turns poets gi...
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