Grandview, Mo. Monday, 11 p.m. [March 18, 1912]
Dear Bess,
That's a horrid hour for a well-behaved farmer to be up, especially when he didn't turn in until one-thirty the preceding evening. I have been to Grandburg watching the amateur band perform. It was a circus (unless a person happened to have tender eardrums). They've been trying to inveigle me into it. Being unsuccessful on every other point, they got me to help them read their music. Now I have a clarinet here on the desk. It looks like a Chinese puzzle to me. Had to take it though or make the bunch mad. I may even be crazy enough to learn to play it. They practice at the schoolhouse at Grandview and I tell you the noise they make is positively unearthly. It isn't heavenly either. The kid with the slide trombone got on top of a desk and became so enthusiastic that he socked the tuba player in the nose with the slide. Our town will be on the map when it has a thirst emporium, brass band, and a suffragette club. They all go together.
Uncle Harrison stayed all day today. I had nothing to do but play Pitch and Cooncan to keep him entertained. It was so muddy that I hitched up and hauled him to the station about four o'clock and came on back home because I had some work to do. The agent said the train was twenty minutes late. I went back up town at seven and the train went just as I got there. I'll bet the roof of the station was a decidedly fiery color if Uncle Harry's language could have painted it.
I wrote Miss Maggie today and asked her to the show on March 30. Here's hoping she can't go. Not that I don't want her to you understand but I want you more. (Take it any old way that suits you). Anyway we'll get to go in the evening. Miss Maggie said in her letter that she liked George better than any other boy in the senior class. I guess he's working the same stunt I used to work, studying particularly on her subjects. That pleases her well as Shakespeare says (or Henry George, one, I don't know which).
I hope I didn't injure your conscience by suggesting that we stay home from church. I like to go to church sometimes but yesterday I wanted to talk to you. Then I didn't say anything north while not even that. I like you better every time I see you with your black velvet. If it's a nice day the 30th please wear it will you?
I had the Montgomery Ward book all ready to take to you Sunday and couldn't get out of the house without attracting the attention of the whole blooming family so I'll mail it. I can't look up without seeing some of your books. They are on the desk and it makes me ashamed that I haven't returned what I borrowed.
Now I'm going to display some tall nerve and remind you that you promised me your Mumsey's when you were through. Don't forget that I am still wanting to read Mr. Sixbestsellers' latest. That doesn't sound very nice, but I'll have to leave it because I can't scratch it out and my stationery is on the decline. So don't pay any attention to if you don't want to.
I hope your attack of grippe and threatened meningitis has disappeared. I have been sunburning my face to keep healthy. Got my hat out today and shall bleach it (my face) now. Snow sunburn is anything but pleasant I tell you. My nose looks like a head light.
I really must draw this to a close. I guess you'll be glad but please oh please don't say so, because I'm hoping for a mile-long letter on the strength of it. Someone is raising sand in the back of the house. I hope it's not a burglar.
It was not; Papa ran into the dining room door-he came down after some water. Please write quick.
Sincerely, Harry
Your post card was Baron Nelson's place on Brush Creek.