Sunday Eve

(Postmarked October 8th, 1917)

Dear Myron:-

I can’t write a very long letter as we have only two sheets of writing paper in the house. Never mind if I need more space I’ll use wrapping paper or else finish up on a post card.

I’ve been wondering if you keep warm enough these cold nights. Can you get extra blankets if you need them? Or do any of the boys have comforters sent them from home? I’ve heard of one fellow shoes mother sent him a comforter but of course you wouldn’t want that if the rest didn’t. Any way don’t freeze up – it makes me shiver to think of you. We have the furnace going now – tonight.

I went to church today – now don’t faint away. I went once LAST year – and saw Elizabeth Whittemore out there. She inquired for you the first thing – said she heard you and Mr. Hitchcock had to go to Lowell last Sunday to get a good square meal. She said she felt sorry for you. Lewis Phelps was telling me the other day about a man who went into a London restaurant to dine. He ordered coffee but, when it came, asked the waiter where the sugar was. The waiter said, “It’s that darned fly! Every time I serve a portion of sugar, the fly gets it!” I think the fly must have gotten yours.

You have never told us anything about your vaccination or inoculation. Did it take and weren’t you sick at all? Remember we want to know all that happens.

I’m so glad you can you to the Y.M.C.A. It must seem good after all the drilling to have a little recreation.

There’s not much news around here – silos nearly all filled – fruit cans nearly all filled and potato digging commenced. House cleaning TO BE commenced soon. The children are going to have a two weeks vacation.

Well my paper is nearly done and I don’t want to get the other so will say good night.


You don’t know how I enjoyed your letter. I’ll send that snapshot I got of you. It is not so bad. By the way how is Helen – and Peggy – and Eva – and Montreal – and all the rest?

Mon. morning. Have just heard the Mr. And Mrs. Wilbur McDougall have a nine pound girl. Arrived last night at eight o’clock.

(Newspaper article enclosed in the letter)

Need of Speed

“Will you dream of me, darling?” sighed the lovelorn swain as he looked into her soulful eyes.

“Not to-night, George, unless you start for home pretty soon,” she replied, stifling a yawn.

Elizabeth Whittemore was a cousin. She was the daughter of Myron Brayton Whittemore, Charles Whittemore’s brother.