Fri. night June 26
Dearest,
“Cawn’t say old chap” as how I was overjoyed with the extreme length of the letter that I received from you this afternoon. I like to receive long letters but not chaptered novels.
Well, I’ll excuse you this time if you beg hard enough. But you must write more next time, you promised to write me a l o n g one (get my metaphor)
I haven’t seen much to tell you and I have heard less. My present vocation in life limits me to the gossip of kitchen mechanics, and as I am not extremely interested in that, I don’t take the trouble to gather much. I found out today that my job (accent on the job) was not to expire on the 26th as I had expected but that I am employed until next Wensday [sic].
My route today covered the entire side of north Oak Cliff and perhaps you think that I was not and am not tired. Tomorrow and Monday I will work Trinity Heights and Crescent City. Perhaps Sunday I will read the churches. It seems that my time is well taken up doesn’t it.
I met the young lady whom you forbade me to call my fiance in town today, and she actually spoke to me in my working clothes. Didn’t think it of her. Now I suppose you think that I made a date with her, but if so you are wrong.
It’s getting late now so I’ll close now. Save your films for me to ruin and then I can lay it on the camera again. Write me a long _”sweet”_ letter this time and forget the cards. (I wish I knew who gave them to you “anyway.”)
Lots of love and as many kisses,
Your Verne
[p.s.] Gee but letter writing is lonesome, and if I have to do it much longer I’ll get angry.
[He did it for the next 5 years.]
Postmark: June 27, 1914
From: 3730 Travis Ave., Dallas
To: Sweetwater, TX c/o N.M. Rogers.
Verne is 20. Dorothy is 19.