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68

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December 27, 1898.

My dear Mr. Fairchild:-

An illness, which threatened me some four or five weeks ago, finally overcame me, and forced me to the quiet of my own home, where I have been for some ten days, without going out of doors. During this illness I have as I could from time to time read your good letter of December 10, your charming story in the Christmas number of the "Canadian Home Journal;" also your very amusing Chicago Pastoral. In answer to your enquiry, I cannot see why good Prince Otto should object to your quaint and humerous account of the house-warming at White Oaks. Life without diversion of one sort and another is not worth living, and one should especially enjoy and appreciate humour coming from ones friends, particularly when it is as personal and entertaining as in the present instance. It seems to me that if the hero would spend more time at White Oaks, and without telegraphic communication, he might, in the shade of his own fig tree, expand his heart and extend his mind toward the world of Cap Rouge, and find amidst its follies and foibles sauce for the gander. Isn't this true?

The Christmas greetings from yourself and Mrs. Fairchild, together with your lines, "Christmas Morn." gave me pleasure, and helped to pass the many hours of dullness which have recently been my lot.

I am recovering my health, you will be glad to know, and although I am not yet in the mood to handle a pen, I am glad indeed to dictate this letter and to be able to express, even in this way, my gratitude for your kindly remembrance and to add the wish that the best

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