1 Up East Ward,
Lord Derby War Hospital,
Warrington
Sept. 28,. 17

My dear Lulu

As you can see, I am still "carrying on" in the same old place. I returned the night before last, & am trying to exercise patience, & I am at the same time making life miserable for those responsible for my removal. Whether that will help me or not, I don't know.

I wonder whether I shall be back in time to act as nurse for you! You see my long hospital experience should serve me in good stead, but perhaps I may not be so good at the work as I should be. Anyways, I will do my best, & you shall be the judge.

My arm is slightly better I think, though it doesn't so much alter, I fancy, as that I am getting used to its little eccentricities. I found the other day that I could touch my forhead with my right thumb. Some accomplishment, eh! I can also put my hat on with the same hand after a little fumbling.

I am enclosing two letters from men of the old 209th who have recently been wounded, & wish you would keep them for me. One is an example of modesty from a man who went over the top with me at Vimy, & with whom I exchanged addresses before the action; we were working together as stretcher bearers. The other is from a young boy whose parents were on my old field, & who is anxious about his brother, Fred. He has no friends in England, & so feels lonely; he was shot in the right arm, like myself, but the bone was not injured. His mother is very anxious about both him & his brother. God keep them safe.

Autumn is coming on [?] & the leaves are falling rapidly. Your mother's dreams about Oct. 4., ought to come true pretty soon now, so hope for the best. I am afraid you will have a big job in making an industrious man out of an idle one. I am as lazy as it is possible to be & I don't know how I shall take to real work. Have you any remedy you can suggest, Lulu dear?

It is pretty hard on Endicott circuit all this time. I wrote him yesterday & asked him if I wouldn't be better to get a man for it for the year; I don't know what he will think best, but I don't like to give my friends trouble, no matter how willing they may be.

They were just as glad to see me at home, as I was too see them. My father said good-bye to me in Mfr. & I am afraid I shall never see him again. These separations of families are very hard, & I wish they were not necessary. My sister, Eliza, at Conway, lost her husband about two years ago, & has four fine children. She is my oldest sister & used to 'rule' us all. We were great friends when we were together, but twelve years in Canada only increased our love & respect for each other. I find that I have a pretty, responsible position, as "Uncle Thomas" is for my nephews and nieces - as outlined to them by their parents - quite a herd. A dreadful position for a man as I. Fortunately nine days was not very long, so that they only got a glimpse of my 'clay feel?
Something should happen soon, for the Canadians are being sent to different places in batches of about 50 every other day, from this hospital, I have just learned.

I long to go back, Lulu dear, & I hope so much that you will not be disappointed in me. My sisters asked many questions which I could scarcely answer about you. I have grown so little used to having sisters that I could not - even after being with them for nine days - really act like a brother. I am afraid that they found me sort of mystery.

I have a sort of dread of preaching again, & I am afraid that if God gives me the strength to live up to my ideal, I shall have a very thorny path to tread. You see, Lulu dear, I have never been able to orthodox, & my experience in the trenches, has made me long for the great truth, regardless of all the old doctrines & cherished beliefs. The worst of it is that friends will be the ones who will suffer the most.

What strikes me most is the glory of the 'ordinary man'. We are very few of us heroes, but most of us are ordinary men, & yet they show such an unselfishness in the ordinary work of camp & trenches, that I love them more than I do the kind of man I find the churches. What a dreadful thing for a minister to urge Christians to be like the "sinners", & hold them up as examples.

But the nurse just switched of the light for a moment, & so I must stop.

Now it is next morning, & I must get this letter off. It is beautiful & sunny & as we say here, "I am dressed up & no where to go".

By the way, I did not tell you where I got those postcards I sent in my last package, I unexpectedly came across a shop in Llandudno - a branch of Gadges. I had gone by train from Conway with Clarence, my little nephew, to school. He reminded me so much of myself at his age, that I wanted to get to know him. He is fond of school in a careless sort of way, something of a dreamer, found of electrical contrivances, but a little impractical. He is also mocked, young & lovable, qualities to which of course I make no claim. Altogether I grew very fond of him.

But those pc's: The ones I liked particularly, were the nature studies, such as the one called "Oats", & "Birch & Bracken", etc. The war pictures I had put in almost against my will, for I don't like them.

The four snapshots I just received by post from the nurse at Goldings. You will find me easily on them all I think. The one of the old house - a house where we were invited to tea near by, is pretty I think, but the one where we are in a group in the garden, reflected in a flowing river, is a little gem I think. Another is a snap taken on our departure, back to Napsburg, & the other is at the edge of the croquet lawn.

I will enclose a program of the last concert I was in Mfr., it was the Russian night. To two I took my sisters, one each night, & to the other, my niece, Doris, sister of Clarence, who was a little tot when I left Eng. for Canada. All my sister Eliza's children seem quite clever & ambitious. I wish Eng. gave the same opportunity as Canada does, to boys & girls.

Well, I must stop now, Lulu, & let the orderly have the table. I have just got two books - "The student in Arms" by D. Hankey. They are splendid.

I wonder how Aiverly & Carman are getting along. I wish they were well back & the war all over. What a paradise the world would be then! So it seems from this point of view anyway.

Write me just as if I was never coming back for a long time, Lulu dear, for I shall telegraph when I expect to sail, & you will know then that you need not write until you get further word from me.

Yours as ever with best love

Tom