Fourway Farm,
28 February, 1935.

Dear Ab,

This is apt to be a pretty short letter that Ime writing to you today, like me temper.

And most of what I want to say can pretty near be sumed up in one fraze and that is thank you for nothin'.

When I wrote to you last week and tole you how your ma and me had the first row of our married life over a simple matter like lighting a fire; and when I tole you your ma was on her way to the city with a view (probably) to divorce; and when I asked you to meet her train and try and turn her thorts away from strif and dissenhion -- well, Ab I never expected you would do what you done.

I 'spose I ought to of remembered that you was my own son and one of the old James clan what never yet set its hand to the plow and then turned turtle.

But even the youngest skions of the James strain has yet to lern, Ab, that zeal is somethin' that might be used sparingly and with joo discreshion.

I admit, Ab, that me and your ma had words about lighting a fire; and I admit further to wit that I wrote to you asking you to do your utmost to pach it up.

Well, since your ma has come home with her hands full of olive branches and told me with shining eyes some of the meen and durty things my own son has said about me -- well, Ab, I dunno wether I wouldnt neer as soon have the divorce.

It is fur beyond me to know what call there was for you to go and say to your ma straight off that I was just a silly old fool without no decent control of me tung.

But when you back that up by inferring that I am only a sort of semy-idjit in the last stages of senile decay what is liable to slip the halter unless your ma is there to minister to me with her well nown care and attention, it hurts.

Furthermore, I don't see you was called upon to point out to your ma and ultimitly perswade her that with no one but a poor weak crazy old man to look to things the farm might go to rack and roon unless your ma's masterful hand was here to direct things.

Anyhow, the upshot is that your ma is back home again and lording it over me as if I was not finished cutting me eye teeth.

That wasent my idear at all, lad. And what hurts me more than anythin is that when I do try and assert meself as becomes a man your ma ups and quotes one of your durty remarks and nocks me flat again.

This aint no way to make yourself poplar with me Ab and you have yet to lern that peoplil dont use cannins to shoot rabbits.

Otherwise things here is much the same.

Love from all at home.

Your aff. father.
JAS. JAMES

"Den"
Herald, 2 March 1935, p6