25 May.

My dear Art,
We've told each other stories by the campfire in the wild west. We have cared for one another after getting wounded at the Marquesas Islands. We have drunk healths at the shore of Lake Titicaca in South America. Now there are more stories to be told, other wounds to be healed, and another health to be drunk. Won't you let this be at my home tomorrow night? I am sure you can come, as I know that a certain lady is going to be at a certain dinner party, so you are free for the evening.

There will only be one other person with us. Our old friend Jack Seward is coming too. We both want to cry into our wine cups, and to drink a health to the happiest man in all the wide world. That's the man who is going to marry the noblest girl that God has made, and won the heart best worth winning. We promise you a warm welcome and greeting, and a drink as good as any you'll find anywhere. But we are both going to leave you at home if you drink too often to the beauty of your lady's eyes. Come!

Yours, as ever and always,

Quincey P. Morris