June 9, 1943
No, I am not sick except from the hangover of the Globe & Mail. The 180 pressure remains the same and has to be watched with its frequent headaches, etc.
I am sorry that good old Duncan is unwell. I trust he picks up steadily. I loved his Dream in Voices. I still think, as I have thought for twenty years and more, that he is the greatest our native garden has bloomed. I have proclaimed it everywhere. Give him my love.
I am sending my only copy of Acta. The other one I had was lost in the Ottawa mails last Christmas. Keep it carefully, will you? and return. The article is a bit crazy but it had the whole College laughing for a month. I was ragged over the Eddie Trail Store business, no end. Claire told the story without my knowledge, and as a result her weekly allowance was docked by ten cents. It has, however, been made up since.
I have not had one game of golf yet most unprecedented, isn't it? Lack of gas is one explanation, Pressure, another, though the latter means only easing up, not discarding altogether. Did you get that autobiographical sketch I sent you two months ago? I hope you did as I typed it out specially some seven pages.
Be careful of your eyes, old chap. I hate to think of you working so hard at that job. Make your holidays count for rest and recreation. I had a chat with Dona yesterday. Vi and I met her on the bus. She looks fine.
The war news is excellent, isn't it! Even the pessimists about here are grinning for the first time. When will our old days of stags and smokes come round again? I haven't seen Bert in months. Love to Harry and much of every good thing to yourself.