All right, Brer Whitmo’, telegram received. I’ve merely taken the same action as before: written Hubbard to sell for me whenever he sells for you, & in the same proportion. I suppose the corner is in D & R G—is that the one?

It as been orrible weather ere, otter than we’ve ever seen it before on the summit of this ill. But we shan’t complain, as long as it isn’t killing the President. Hubbard has a lot of orders on his books which I really begin to think he’ll have to get engraved on brass, so that they will last to “maturity.” They read thus—he told me so, himself: “Buy me such-&-such a stock when the President dies.”

I reckon we shan’t get a chance to go to Indian Neck, for we are in a good deal of a sweat to get home & sail in on the finishing-up business there. Weal shall start home about Sept. 20 if the weather shall have cooled off a little by that time.

Aŭfwiedersehen!