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My dear Art,
We've told yarns by the campfire in the prairies, and dressed one another's wounds after trying a landing at the Marquesas, and drunk healths on the shore of Titicaca. There are more yarns to be told,and other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk. Won't you let this be at my campfire tomorrow night?
I have no hesitation in asking you, as I know a certain lady is engaged to a certain dinner party, and that you are free.
There will only be one other, our old pal at the Korea, Jack Seward.
He's coming, too, and we both want to mingle our weeps over the wine cup, and to drink a health with all our hearts to the happiest man in all the wide world, who has won the noblest heart that God has made and best worth winning. We promise you a hearty welcome, and a loving greeting, and a health as true as your own right hand.
We shall both swear to leave you at home if you drink too deep to a certain pair of eyes. Come!
Yours, as ever and always,
Quincey P. Morris