{170 Albert St., Waterloo, Ont., July 16, 1939.} Dear Mother: Having come home from early church this morning I will try to fill in the time between this and dinner in typing off my letter to you. Things are more or less dull around here, there being nothing doing, and so there isn't much to tell. But they always say that that's the time I write the longest letters, I, like old Shakerag or or spear, making "much ado about nothing." So here goes. We have had the coolest weather for the past few days that I ever saw in July. It has been so cold that some people have actually put fire in their furnace; and Bonnie, who a few days ago was complaining outrageously about the heat, is now even more vehement about the cold; but as for myself, I never complain about the weather, so the wind don't blow. I have had a sufficiently busy week to keep me from bothering about anything else, much less the weather, seeing all my botheration wouldn't change it anyhow. I got my Minutes finished back in the week and have sent out a fw copies already. This being done I sat down to the transcribing job and have been working quite steadily on the Protocol. I have recorded over half the Minutes in that superfluous book already, and expect to get the job done by the middle of this week. I could get it over with even a little earlier, but I am taking a day off to-morrow and going fishing. Rev. Waidenhammer, one of our earliest graduates, who has been labouring in the West since graduation, is here on his vacation. He is going up into the wilds and brooks of the near norh country on a brook-trouting expedition, and has asked me to accompany him. Frederick is also going along with us, as he wants to learn the art of fishing too. The only other passenger that we are taking is an uncle of Rev. Waidenhammer's, a Mr. Schneider, an old man of 87 years of age, but an ardent fisherman. If we old fellows get tird of the job, we can sit back and let the younger fry do the fishing.