Text: "Sunday morning. Dearest Sweetheart Mine -- How can I ever tell you how sweet you are and how much I love you? I just can't. They woke me at 9:30 this morning to give me your special, and it surely did make me feel good, it was such a nice way to start off the day. I love you, I love you. I got a chance to ride to Houston yesterday noon, so I took it up and went to the game; five of us freshmen went together, and we surely id have a good time. the game was rather one sided, Baylor beating by a score of 29 to 0. It was awfully hot at the game, but I enjoyed it thoroughly, being the first game I had seen in nearly a year. We went to a show after supper and started back about nine thirty. We rode about 25 miles, then stopped in a little burg to ask the way to Galveston, and he told us we were heading right away form it, and were on our way back to Houston! Talk about sore! We had come about ten miles off the road. All the roads are so good, and the country is so bloomin' flat we didn't know we were going wrong. Anyway we nearly froze to death, but go[t] home sometime in the wee small hours. And it surely did feel good to sleep this morning, and especially to be waked by such a pleasant alarm. I thought of you a thousand times yesterday, and dreamed of you last night, dreamed I held you, kissed you, just as plain as three weeks ago. But my, what a disappointment when I woke enough to realize it was all only a dream. I wonder what you did last night, I wish I could have been with you whatever it was. Say, who was it that wrote the little note on the back of you letter, about a Maretta's coming down here Friday I couldn't understand it, nor make out the signature either. I'm sorry you had trouble with your little kids, maybe a paddling would really be good for them. I wish I were there to administer a good one to anybody who would cause my Libo any trouble or worry. Naughty! I should say. I think I ought to administer me to you, too! or rather to me who told you such a terrible piece of poetry! No, no, I'll just kiss you real real hard -- is that sufficient punishment? I'm going to be real bad myself this morning and not [...] go to church, to stay home and study for this Anatomy tomorrow. Please pray for me from 9-11 tomorrow morning, I believe I told you from 11-1 before, but that's wrong. I'm going to do all I can today to make a good grade, then leave the rest up to you. Kiss you if I love you? You know I'd never stop. but I really must stop writing now, 'cause I've got oodles to learn about the leg bones. Hope I get a real long letter tomorrow. Yours always Felix."
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