January 8, 1918

Dear Dad,

The last of the Vancouver bunch went out today and here I am left on the Texas desert.  You can’t imagine the disappointment. Looks for sure, either destiny or some such thing is guiding my course. Guess I’ll have to take things just as they are and make a go of it if I can. If by the time you receive this you have not already sent me money please start some by special delivery. This is likely the last letter you will receive from me until I receive some cash that will enable me to write again.

I feel so mad, mean, and ugly I can’t write anymore.

Love, Dan

My great-grandmother, as was often her habit, wrote on the back of this letter to her daughter (my grandmother) who was at Bates College.

Dear Girlie [an affectionate nickname],

I am hastening this to you that you may know the latest from D.  When I get a letter written after this last cold snap I shall breathe freely again. Nothing that we sent could have reached him before this Tuesday morning. We got the heavy sweater off on the early morning train.  I only began it last Wed. night. Some knitters we! I really do knit on these heavy things as fast as Mother [her mother, my great-great grandmother] and we have taken turns on this.

Sent D five dollars more yesterday so he will be able to get books, or a book at least, soon. I am not at all sure but the disappointment about Vancouver may prove best for him. It seems to me more likely that he may get the appointment for schooling. If only he gets well and remains so.

Show this to Uncle Will and Lillian—Mrs. Grover (?) too. Show this or report to Cousin Sadie.

Don’t worry about anything—it does not pay.  “Happy” your household and friends, if you know how. Yours of Thursday night, interesting.  Sending to D.