"The quests that have etched themselves most satisfactorily into the hearts of mankind have been made in voyages from the commonplace to far lands of strange beauty, whose harbors have anchored Odysseys from unremembered ages."

The above I have copied from a "railroad time table". You know there is beauty in most everything if you look for it hard enough. Here I am in the commonplace of my office starting a Cousins' letter on a voyage, not exactly to far lands, but to lands that in the simple days od childhood seemed far away to me, and always held a peculiar charm. The harbors of these lands may not have anchored odysseys of world renown, but I remember the old rafts and a few rowboats at the dam and in the race at Nelson, and to me they were an experience and adventure quite as impressive as any toilers of the sea that have become immortal in the pages of classic literature. And Solomon's temple in all its splendor could not have made a greater impression upon any observer than Jim Losey's¹ old sawmill always made on me. So after all we are for the most part thinking about and writing about the relatively simple things that fall within range of our own vision and experience.

Well, to begin with, our mongrel pup, Barney Google, was among the fatalities of the heavy auto traffic season last August. We then got a lay Irish terrier. She took distemper and passed on in the old fashioned way. Had we had the good sense to get a Scotch terrier instead, perhaps we might not be so dogless.

I have heard something that helps to disprove one of the unpleasant references to Scotch blood, and mention it here because Campbells are sometimes prone to admit that they are of Scotch descent. This particular Scotchman, fearing the approach of the end, was making his will. After going over everything, the attorney read the copy as prepared, and asked if there were any further changes. "Yes", said the Scotchman, "I believe there is. I want you to render a kindness to my race. You know they say we Scotch are not generous. To disprove this ugly canard you may add a bequest of one thousand dollars to the widow of The Unknown Soldier."

Last summer Anna, the two boys and I made a delightful motor trip through New England. It was the first time any of us had visited Maine or seen the White Mountains. When we were eating dinner one night at Poland Springs the waitress asked what dignitaries we were. We modestly inquired as to why the question. "Why", she said, "This is the president's table. You know that both Harding and Coolidge were seated at this table when they dined here." The particular reason in our case evidently was that this table happened to be the only vacant one in the dining room at the time of our arrival.

Later in the year, when mother was visiting us. we took another short motor trip to Connecticut. We landed in Waterbury on the evening of a prize fight that was said to have drawn thirty or forty thousand visitors to the city. Mother was quite put out that I had not thought to get tickets to the fight in advance.²

A month or so ago I happened to attend a conference in Washington, and while there sought shelter at the Snavely's. It was most comfortable and hospitable shelter and Mary throws in breakfast.

Our family is well. The boys are continuing their work in high school with somewhat varied and indifferent success. Anna continues quite a number of outside activities. According to the present day order of family organization there isn't much left for the "old man" to do except saw wood and keep still.

Our cordial greeting goes to every Cousin. We trust that the year has brought things of value in life, even though to some the cost may seem out of line. We shall look ahead to the perusal of the various letters with a great deal of pleasure.