Dearest Crumbcake,

I am glad to see your letter, more glad than you may know. The orang-outans, you see, have conceived a relative passion for writing paper, and will snatch any letter the postmaster might have, and love it to shreds before it can be retrieved. I was fortunate to be nearby to the harbor when the boat carrying your missive arrived. I would not have these foolish Malays do anything which requires punctuality or precision. It was thus that I leapt onto the vessel and retrieved your letter myself from the hands of a very surprised postmaster. Oh, to see your own words, penned with your own sweet hand, each perfect letter shaped softly and sensitively as though by Venus herself. You may notice a change in my own handwriting; I've been practicing lately in developing my ambidexterity, and thus am using my left hand to pen these words. I find that using the sinistral gives the letters a bold passion that is not found on the right. The hand of Judas betrays it's wickedness, but if properly controlled, lends vitality and energy to the mean letters.

These forests are filled with mystery, Elizabeth. When I stalk through them, I can feel the primeval mystery all around me. I was surprised to learn that no lions are to be found here. In fact, this assumption was the source of some hilarity for my guides, who spent the rest of the day roaring and playing the part for my benefit.

To return to the theme of mystery, I must recount a strange event which occurred on the twenty-fourth of last month. I was wandering the jungle alone, which I only do in the most familiar places, and then only in the daytime, when I discovered a remarkable object. A human foot, severed at the ankle, was attached to a teak tree by means of a nail run through an extra bit of bone that protruded from the top. Worst of all, it was a civilized foot; not some dark Maylay's, but a European man's, possibly German, if I can trust my analysis of the cuticles. The nail itself was native, cut from the inferior iron that Malaysia is known for.

How it came to be there, I do not know. At first, I naturally suspected some kind of voodoo magic, but after consulting my guides, there does not seem to be any precedent in this clime for thaumaturgic pedosuspension. Instead, I have developed this theory- An unfortunate German (or possibly Belgian) individual was traveling through the jungle, when some unknown, limb-severing accident befell him. Not wanting to waste time searching for the liberated foot, he immediately descended from the mountains to seek medical treatment for his now likely gangrenous stump. The foot (which was surprisingly un-knawed, despite the tremendous variety of flesh eating creatures in the forest) was subsequently discovered by a tribesman, who, recognizing it as once belonging to a "shining one" as we are known, decides to give it a proper burial. The tribesman, however, knowing that we are above him, makes a literalist mistake by choosing to "bury" the foot above the base earth, where his own relatives lie. Therefore, he finds a sturdy (or what passes for sturdy in this clime) nail and respectfully hammers the foot to the tree with the butt of his spear or some such. All of which goes to show that these people, while a lazy race overall, have a great potential locked within them.

With respect to little Albert, I am pleased to hear of him, but dismayed by his willful behavior. So long as the arrow he sucked was not a slender bamboo splinter with red feathers, he should be quite fine. But I seriously think stronger measures than a spanking are called for. It is important to break a child early, such that by the time he is a man, the fractures have healed invisibly. How are his bowel movements? If they are irregular, you may look into a colonectomy for him. I have heard that the colon, coiled like a snake in the abdomen, is a corruptive influence on the young, and perhaps removing it early is the greatest favor we can do our son. For now, the application of Opia Wine might do the trick to firm his stool. I am no expert on child rearing, I'm afraid. I trust your judgment in these matters in all ways.

I must go, now. It is time for the evening meal, which I believe is flying termites. I wish the best for all of you back home, and especially you, Elizabeth.

Love and Devotion,