Grandview, Mo.
April 1, 1911
Dear Bessie,
April Fool Day. Mamma says it is always customary to send blank sheets of paper today instead of written ones. Well perhaps you'd rather get the blank ones, but I am going to fill these and spoil the spirit of the day.
You see I have been sowing oats all week, got done Thursday night, and hauled about six tons of hay yesterday. My face is a sight, as the girls say. You know the wind blew something "fierce" last Tuesday and Wednesday and the sun also had some effect. Between them I look like raw beef or a confirmed "booze fighter." My voice is also somewhat weary from yelling at the horses. You know we drive four plugs to a drill-have them abreast. It is an impossibility to have four with inclinations alike. I had four whose names may be some index to their character-William, Samuel, Jane and X. X is a bronc-if you know what that is-he has an insane desire to arrive at the other end of the field in the shortest possible time. You dare not touch him with a whip or let him hear one if you can help. William-Bill we call him of course-is an ex-buggy horse. He hasn't much idea of work but to get out of it if he can. I yell at him in my sleep sometimes. When I am not hallooing "Bill, Bill go on," I am saying the same to Sam. Sam is a very large ex-dray horse and he never hurries under any consideration unless I poke him with a sharp stick or land on him with a baling wire whip. Jane, as Mrs. Barclay would say, is just right. She goes as she should. Well when I land on Sam and Bill, Jane and X want to run away. So I have to take it out in lung work and unprintable names. You can just bet that I am glad I'm done. I always sow Vivian's and mine too. This time I sowed seventy acres in five days. That is moving some. Vivian is well had has been hauling hay for me while I sowed his oats. (I do wish I had your new bottle of ink.) Did you get an invitation to the high school reception for Professor Bryant? I did but I can't go. I have a "previous engagement" to a tacky party. I am going as I usually go when at home and I bet I take the cake. My very best friends would refuse to recognize me if they ever saw me in town in my farm rags. They are dirty and tattered and torn with hog snoot marks, splashed milk, and other things too numerous to mention in their makeup. You ask Ethel what a pretty figure I cut when I pretend to work. Mamma ropes me in once in a while and makes me exchange for a clean set, but they don't feel right until I wear them a day or two.
I am glad your "umbrell" is a useful as well as ornamental article. You know they generally are not both.
I would certainly be glad to attend church with you in Independence and hear your choir.
I guess you will have a fine time at the river tomorrow morning. I haven't been down on those bluffs since I was a time-keeper for L. J. Smith. You know I was once a hobo paymaster. Not a pleasant job either.
I am sorry to hear of Miss Dicie's illness but I guess she'll soon recover. Lively people are never sick long. I hope your mother is well by this time. Our whole family is in good health. Papa only has to hop on crutches but he'll soon be over that.
You say you have gone back to W. D. Howells, well I have never come to him yet. He must be all right for he was a particular friend of Mark Twain's. It's luck I guess but I have never read one of his books. I certainly did enjoy The Mistress of Shenstone. I have read The Rosary since I read it and they are both good. I have also been reading the history of Jenghiz Khan the Tartar. He is the only great man in history who had no effect on American history, according to Miss Phelps. You know she began with Adam and came down. But I never heard of Jenghiz till recently. Well I am wound up but shall quit here. Please write me when you have the time as I enjoy your letters very much. I am
Sincerely, Harry