Calgary, N.W.T.
17, May: 1891.
My dear Comrade
It is exactly a year ago to-day by the day of the month since I came to this house. The motto for the day from the Shakespeare calendar is an ex::cellent one from 2 Henry vi: “...O Lord that lends one life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!” How little one knows what the days and weeks are to bring! How the whole horizon of life changes, ay--its very sky, fresh stars ap::pearing in the night! How dif::ferent were my relations to this strange world of life and action a year ago from what they are to-day! Let us be thankful but silent. Your letter of the 8th has come with its sweet enclosure of pansies. But, my comrade, why are you un::happy, for I read between the lines that you are troubled about something? You are tired--is not that so? Tired, tired; and are longing for peace--for rest. Here are some lines that brought balm to my spirit the other day when I read them. Simple they are, with no mighty “somethingness”, but they breath…
