July 2 1913
My Dearest:— Tonight I am trying to forget you for little while. To make myself believe that I am not in love with the sweetest dearest little girl in the world. (But how impossible.) For I’m afraid you will be just a little dissappointed [sic] when I tell you that it is impossible for me to be with you on the 4th. I have just been talking with mother. She is going to Snowflake in the morning but said she would not go if I went to St Johns. There are so many things to look after that she felt that either she or I must stay. Then to [sic] Uncle David will be here with nobody to look after him if all the folks leave and I should go to [sic]. There will be meals to get and chores to do besides all the work in the day. Then to [sic] it is just now that I ought to stay with the irrigating, because everything is so dry. And it means so much if we should let it go, and if I came it could be only for part of the day as I would have to be here for the next morning. So you see how it all is. But you don’t know how I hate it. It seems I hav’ent [sic] seen you for ages. And oh, dear, I get so lonesome. You will forgive me if I don’t come won’t you and think of me just as much for perhaps next week I will come up and stay two or three days.
Gee, it will be lonesome.
Jess is going to take the mail to Holbrook rather a dry time for him to. But thanks to the good man there are more days a coming. But I wish to the devil John Handcock [sic] and Tom Jefferson had’nt [sic] written the Declaration of Independence on the 4th of July but had waited a week or two. Now that would have been more accomadating [sic] would’nt [sic] it. But as they were so anxious I suppose I will let it go as it is.
You must have a good time and forget that I have been so neglectful of you for one can’t help but feel that is what it is yet it can’t be helped this time. Now dearest you must write me a long letter telling me just what you think of me and what you are going to do (forgive and forget I hope) That reminds me I was just a little dissappointed [sic] my self tonight (reason unknown) But I almost feel like asking you to write every day, at least for the next two or three days.
But I am going to have them send me down some fire crackers the five cent kind, (you know) I wish I had thought and had you do it. And believe me I will just raise old H— himself. But anyway you will think of me won’t you dearest. And wish I were with you my heart will be if I’m not. Well it is just 12 P.M., so good night sweetheart. forgive just this once
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