Grandview, Mo. March 23, 1912
Dear Bess:
I suppose the gink who wrote Beautiful Snow has received a genteel sufficiency of it today. I wish he could spend eternity in a big drift. John Greenleaf Whittier, the old nigger lover, also went into spasms over snow. I guess maybe he wishes he could see some now. It probably would be great comfort to him to spend a few days in a drift.
It is now one foot on the level and going as if it had just started. My dear cousins are still in Independence I guess. Anyway, I'm very very glad you didn't intrust them with your letter. Don't you ever make a mistake like that. They'd squeeze me for show tickets and whatever else they might happen to want. Nellie got one of your letters out of the office when she was here last summer and I had to pour a quart of water down her neck and shut her up in a room for an hour before I got it. Then it was only delivered on condition that I promise to do anything she wanted while she was here. I promised and then proceeded to souse her good.
Miss Maggie says she is going to the show so that settles it. I'll have to take her. She invited me go home to supper with her. I guess I'll have time to do it and get to your house by seven thirty. Don't you think? Here's hoping the weather will be reasonably cold for the sake of the black velvet.
If this snow keeps up I don't suppose the streetcar company will turn a wheel this evening. If I'd known my relatives were not coming, I'd have been in Independence this evening. I guess I'll have to stay home tomorrow and dig out a load of fodder for the benefit of a lot of beastly old cows. I'm so glad we haven't enough to eat two loads. Nothing is so bad it couldn't be worse. Cows have an insatiable (?) appetite for fodder when it is hard to get. When it is possible to get it without any trouble, they won't look at it.
That band concert will be a peach. I'll let you know all right. Some night when I can persuade them to practice in our grove, you can happen along accidentally and hear the noise. You will probably not come any closer than the front gate after hearing one bleat from the trombone artist. His name is Hank, which is almost Hen-er-y.
The Apple of Discord is making a good start all right. I have been reading it. Mamma read a hair raiser in Adventure the other evening after we all went to bed. She got about halfway through and got scared and went upstairs herself. We've been kidding her a lot about it. She's not much on the scare order in real life let alone in a yellow story. It must have been a humdinger. I don't get the Star now. You'll please excuse any of my expressions that sound a little bit as if they originated in the Kansas City Post. I haven't renewed the Star, and the old tightwad stopped it on the day my subscription expired. I guess I'll have to renew on account of the free ads [illegible].
I got a letter from Mr. Mize asking my support for his candidacy. If it'll do him any good, he'll get it all right. Couldn't possibly vote for the other old duffer but I do feel sorry for him.
I shall certainly be thankful for those Munsey's but really you oughtn't to give them to me after what I said before.
I had to go meet Mary this evening at three o'clock and I tell you it was some job. She's been beefing ever since because she didn't stay in town. If she had she probably would have spent a week because the beautiful article is still falling. I can't think of a rougher word than falling or I'd use it. They say an aeroplane soars like a bird and lights like a pitcher of beer from a third story window. That's the way the snow lit on me coming from Grandburg with Mary. It cut like a broken pitcher and wet like the beer anyway.
Please you owe me a letter I think. Send it by U.S.M. and not by any messengers. Don't forget next Saturday. Wish it were today. Pray for rain and maybe it won't snow that day.
Sincerely, Harry