Seventy Degrees Below Zero: III. To My Widow

"Dearest Darling, we are in a very tight corner and I have doubts of pulling through. In our short lunch hours I take advantage of a very small measure of warmth to write letters preparatory to a possible end. The first is to you on whom my thought mostly dwell waking or sleeping

If anything happens to me I shall like you to know how much you have meant to me. I should like you to take what comfort you can I shall not have suffered any pain. You must not imagine a great tragedy

I must write a little letter for the boy, if time can be found, to be read when he grows up. Oh my dear, my dear, what dreams I have had of his future and yet, oh my girl, I know you will face it stoically your portrait and the boy's will be found in my breast

Dear, it is not easy to write because of the cold 70 degrees below zero. You know I have loved you and, oh dear me, you must know that quite the worst aspect of this is the thought that I shall not see you again. The inevitable must be faced. God bless you my own darling"