Aug 13th 1890


My dear Mother,

The other day I ran a thistle into my right forefinger, just at the spot where I hold my pen, and it festered up so that I could hardly use my finger. Both Sunday mornings, I went to Strabane to church, a distance of two miles. Last Sunday evening to I went to Carlisle Methodist Church, but the parson is a coarse, vulgar man.

When we go to the village the people stare as if we were a circus. The food we get is not so bad though not nearly so good as at home.

Mrs. B's truly a queer woman. She rarely takes any pudding, saying that what the boys leave will satisfy her. She is very particular about washing the boys but neither of them wear undershirts. She is not at all scrupulous about going around half-dressed she is so fond of pulling other people to pieces that I wonder if she ever heard the proverb "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" (Don't read what I have said to the kids)

We expect Mrs. Bruce to drive us home next Wednesday. Amen.

Your troublesome son,
C. McQ