I understand that this third "Cousins Letter" is to be a sort of conglomerate affair, dealing mostly with our immediate families and their doings, intermingled with other family reminiscences, -- and for the pas six months, (dreading this letter), in my day dreams I have thought of many "Gems" I would incorporate in it, but alas, as the time approaches to write you they have all faded away, like the flowers of Spring up North.

Of my immediate family, Mary (Shewman) and family are with us here, and are running the hotel¹. They have it full (capacity sixty guests) all winter, while they have fed twice that number at their tables, but they seem to enjoy it, -- are good entertainers, and are very popular with their guests. They are anxious for me to double the capacity of the hotel which I may do a little later.

 Our daughter Ruth (Mitchell) and family are living in Rochester, N. Y., where her husband has steady and lucrative employment, and they are coming on just fine in their new bungalow, -- but we are hoping to have them with us before long.

Sister Mary Shipman is spending the winter with us here. This is her first trip to the land of eternal sunshine and flowers, and she seems to be enjoying every minute of her time. We surely do enjoy having her with us. 

Our city has entertained about 100,000 tourists this season, and among them some of the most noted men and women of the platform and pulpit, -- so there is not an afternoon or evening that Sister Mary cannot have a choice of five or six regular feasts of elevating literary entertainment, -- the thing she most enjoys but never has had such an opportunity to so fully gratify. But there is another stuff in her makeup so that she will occasionally enjoy a first class ball game with me,-- though I took her to the Boston Braves and the New York Giants play last week, and she left before the game was half over and sauntered back to the City Park and listened to the Scotch Highlanders Band. It was a mighty

How often, oh, how often, we have wished that all our nieces, nephews and cousins could come and spend a winter in our Sunshine City, where the flowers are ever in bloom, and the mocking bird's song is heard all day and all night. Where the sun shines three hundred and sixty out of every three hundred and sixty-five days, year after year, though many of us never knew it, -- but it is true just the same.

We long to see you all, -- our latch string is always out, -- come and give it a pull². While Frank and I do so much enjoy these things here, especially the climate, we are not forgetful of the dear old Cowanesque Valley with its little river winding along down at the foothills, nor can we ever forget the gorgeous beautiful foliage that decorates the hillsides at autumn time, -- for its equal we have never seen.

And most of all our thoughts turn to the dear faces of the ones we seldom see but love so much. What a grand re-union we could have if we whose names appear in this book could meet face to face, -- not only the ones we know so well, but those we have never met, -- and get to know our kindred better. Cousin Will Selph is almost a "Miracle Man"; -- let us hope he evolves just such a gathering.

We send love to each of you,