One of the men in this quarter who has been here for nearly nine months, poor fellow, looks after me as if he was my—brother, I was going to say, but I will substitute Mary.[[1]] He makes me a soda and lemon in the morning, and then gives me my breakfast. At dinner he takes care that I get all the nicest bits and concocts the most perfect black coffee in a "Kaffee Kanne" out of berries, which he roasts and grinds fresh each day. Finally, in the evening, just before we are separated for the night, he brews me a steaming tumbler of hot whisky. He has marked all my clothes for me also, and sees that the washerwoman does not rob me. Don't you begin to feel quite jealous?
I am going to ask Katie to put her proper initials upon the inner envelope of her next letter—-thus, K. P. Your writing on the outside envelope of the one which came to-day will do splendidly.
I do not think there is the least probability of my being moved; this is the strongest place they have, and they are daily trying to increase its strength according to their own notions, which are not very brilliant. My room is very warm and perfectly dry. They wanted me to go to another, which did not face the sun, but I refused, so they did not persist.
With a thousand kisses to my own Wifie, and hoping soon to lay my head in its old place.
Good-night, my darling.
November 7, 1881.
I did not advertise in Standard.
MY DARLING QUEENIE,—Your two letters received, and King is very much troubled about you.
I am very warm—have fire and gas in my room all night if I want it.
Dearest Wifie must try and get back her spirits and good looks for her own husband's sake. C. S. P.