Miss Gladys Bower,

Dear Gladys,

Received letters from you, ma, and Lucy a number of days ago and answered all excepting yours. This letter is a return compliment for yours of July 26^th.

In my letter of a week ago to to me you will have learned that your father returned from Greenstone with me. He broke down the day I arrived there. His side troubled him so much he considered it wiser for him to quit and put some one in his place than to continue work and probably excite his trouble into something very serious. Your father thinks he has a slight attack of pleurisy induced by wet feet.

B. returned to Greenstone today but expects to be back in Ruby in a few days. Some promoters have offered him a proposition and he must give him his answer before the fifteenth of September. This is the proposition in brief. They want him to work for them during a contract period of three years. The promoters are to bring a drill into the country, pay all expenses, and B is to prospect ground with the drill in company with two of the promoters. His wages are to be $10 per day and one quarter interest on all ground staked. Your father has some objections, naturally, to the proposition; for one he says "he hates to tie himself up for three years". But if the offer is exactly as stated I do not doubt that he will accept it. In case he does, he will be in Seattle before Christmas. Do not mention to your father that I let you know this: I prefer to have him not know it.

If B goes outside I shall remain near ruby and do some assessment work for him on some of his ground on Flat Creek about 35 miles out of Ruby. I do not know exactly how I shall be paid: he will probably give me small wages and, as he said, a share in the ground. My opinion is that it will be a long and weary winter for sure. Seven days of snow and solitude is a novelty but when it lengthens to seven months it ceases to be so; a small dose of medicine is good but large doses are obnoxious.

It has been a wet summer here; at the present writing it is blowing and raining and has been doing so for a week; it will, in all probability, turn to snow before long.

I'll describe the scene that lays before me as a write this letter.

It is growing on to dusk, made earlier by the low-hanging, gray, clouded sky. At intervals a gust of wind sweeps against the cabin, in effect much as though someone had swept a large birch tree over the roof. Directly in front and below lays the town; it is a careless assembly of log cabins and rough frame houses. It seems to be a Deserted Village; not a soul can be seen. A couple of large flags tug and wave furiously from their poles. The only material indication of the presence of human inhabitants are two lights that emit their dull, inert, rays from two houses. Before this town flows the great Yukon swiftly (and mighty) rolling it's mighty hulk to mingle with the cold Bering Sea. Now3 and then the doleful yowl of a sledge dog is echoed from the hill opposite the town. It is a deserted scene and one that would reduce a sad heart to the deepest despondency.

However do not think it will reduce this heart to despondency.

Goldie seems to have turned over a new leaf and is bearing heifers. I like to get the news of home that you give me.

Home always remains a tender spot in the memory of a wanderer. I received two Sunday Times from you. I never read a paper so assiduously as I did those. They had more war news that I got here. From reports we get I guess France will have to sue for peace.

Well I have managed to cover to sheets of paper so good night.

Yours. Affectionately

Raymond

PS - In my letter to ma I asked her to tell Todd and Lucy to send me their power of attorney. They can do as they please about it. If we have them and happen to see some good ground I could stake some for them and it would cost them little or nothing.