The doctor told me, if I really thought of some day arraying my manly form in a scarlet jacket and wearing a sword, I ought to put it on with my mathematics, which are not my _forte_, you know.

So now I'm drawing circles and triangles at every available moment, and my logarithm tables are thumbed almost to death.

Don't imagine _you're_ the only burner of midnight oil.
"I had a letter from home to-day.

They were saying they hadn't seen you lately.

I hope you'll go up when you can; it would be a charity to the dear old folk; besides, they are very fond of you--queer taste! How's the ticker?
Give it a cuff from me for not reminding you to write the last two weeks.
The repeater goes on all serene.