How is it possible to write a bright, snappy and happy letter the first week of the fishing season when the snow is a foot deep and the streams swollen out of their banks? In fact, we have our rod all newly varnished, our favorite flies all tied, and John has even furnished me with a can of nice fat worms for this first trip, and then along comes our annual April snowstorm to help take the joy our of life! Of course, we should be happy, for it means more irrigation water for the farmer and indirectly a living for the poor dentist. We have put off our real fishing until July Fourth when, as Llewellyn and Mabel can tell you, the thermometer stands one hundred ten degrees in the shade and the streams are so low you don't need fishhooks to bring home a full basket.

The past year has been rather uneventful with us excepting the wonderful visit we had with the Shaws. I believe they were rather glad to reach Baker after traveling over the hot sands of the desert in midsummer, but their pleasure couldn't compare with ours, for when one sees their near and dear kinfolks only once in twenty years, only those far from home can realize the happiness. We talked of you all, even to the cousins of the nth degree, and I must say the clan has surely increased since I was a boy in the Cowanesque Valley.

We have all been fairly well this past year, and with the exception of the regular run of grippe and colds have managed to weather a long and cold winter. Jean, the oldest one of the trio, has been away at school, and we have surely missed her. She is attending St. Margaret's Hall (Episcopalian) at Boise, Idaho, and enjoys it very much. We drive over(one hundred forty miles) quite often for the week-end, and she is home for her vacations, but I am beginning to realize what it means when they begin to leave us, and can only think how lonesome the old home at Westfield must have been for Mother as we four left one by one for new fields of endeavor.

Helen's father, Sam Hamilton of Duluth, Minnesota, has spent the past winter here, and we have surely enjoyed having him with us. He is eighty-two years old, but as spry and active as I hope to be at that age. He has been a timber cruiser all his life and enjoys the outdoors and fishing. We are planning many fine trips for the summer.

We have seen neither Frank nor Nellie nor Arthur for over a year. It really seems too bad when we live in the same state, and with a little effort could be together at least once during the summer for a little visit. Oregon is a mighty big state, and to travel four hundred miles over our mountains takes time and money. Our highways are wonderful, with macadam roads from the eastern border to the western and southern, and a continuous stream of tourists are making good use of them even at this early date.

This last year's Cousins Book has been a great delight to us. I have spent many happy evenings reading and dreaming over its pages. The ancestral chart¹ is something which we shall prize more highly with each succeeding year and will become more valuable with each coming generation. I feel we owe a great debt of gratitude to those cousins who have worked so faithfully in its compilation.

With love and best wishes,