I will try and write a few lines this pleasant afternoon.

It is very hard for me to write any more, whereas it used to be the joy of my life to write letters to my friends;- but when one gets to be seventy-two years old and has lots of work to do, it is a great undertaking. I love to look over the letters in our book and think of the dear Cousins and the good times we have had together, but the time is coming when we will all be gone and our places will be filled with another generation.

I am very sorry that I cannot send the photos this time,- will make a desperate effort to have them ready for the next report. Please do not blame us for we have done our best, and the rest will have to make up for our deficiency; we will try to do better next time.

I do not get out to make very many calls and no visits at all.

Will try and have the next Cousins Dinner if they decide not to go to Stroudsburg.

With love to all the Cousins,