[Cornerbrook, Nfld.]
August 7, 1953

Dearest Cakes:

We got your letter before we left St John's and were so glad you had no further mishaps (customs, etc.). Too bad, however, that you had that ride to the hospital with Beverley. It must have been as troublesome for you as for her. We hope that there have been no further untoward effects since.

We are now at Corner Brook and the motor trip along the Humber today rivals the Rockies (except for snow caps). Mother used up all her films. She is now trying to fit a new one in the camera – a difficult job for which she is getting very little valuable assistance from me. There is no lack of willingness on my part I can assure you. It is lack of knowledge plus lack of mechanical ability, my fingers being all thumbs, often exhibited by other men in the changing of diapers if you know what I mean. Do you remember the story of Pelham Edgar in that connection? (It cost Pelham $25.00 to call in Alan Brown.)

Tomorrow we are invited to a cabin about sixty miles away. We shall spend the week-end fishing for grilse, a species of small salmon. I hope to have more finesse with that operation than with the aforementioned camera.

The hotel where we are staying is wonderful. It overlooks the Humber and high hills on the other side. Fred Bugden was here and brought back one of his best pictures. The forest is mainly soft woods – spruce mainly – the source of pulp for the paper plants. The town produces about 1000 tons a day. Cal has interests here so it is a combination of business and pleasure. For me it is a more complicated interest – sight-seeing, motoring, and napping being the major ones.

Before we left St John's we had a reunion at Hal Puddester's and I heard a beautiful story which I must tell you. Perhaps you may have heard a variant of it. A certain man who was rather fed up with living decided to jump from the seventh story of a hotel. When he was making the preparatory exercise of leaping an Irish policeman arrived on the pavement and called out to him in the most pleading tones –
'Don't jump.'
'Yes, I'm going to jump.'
'Please don't for the sake of your poor old father.'
'I have no father.'
'Then don't jump for the sake of your poor old mother.'
'I have no mother.'
'Then don't for the sake of the Holy Virgin.'
'I never heard of the Holy Virgin.'
'Then jump, you bloody Protestant.' Finis.
You can imagine what an intellectual evening and spiritual feast we had.

Excuse my handwriting as my fountain pen has run dry and I am using a scratching hotel pen. More anon.

Rambling Father

Edgar's 'story' is not revealed.

The Glynmill Inn in Corner Brook.