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Mother Carey's Chickens

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nobody could keep critters in it, so no more from your old school frend

Bill Harmon.

P.S. We've been having a spell of turrible hot wether in Beulah. How is it with you? I never framed it up jest what kind of a job an American Counsul's was; but I guess he aint never het up with overwork! There was a piece in a Portland paper about a Counsul somewhere being fired because he set in his shirt-sleeves durin office hours. I says to Col. Wheeler if Uncle Sam could keep em all in their shirtsleeves, hustlin for dear life, it wood be all the better for him and us!

Bill.

Letter from Miss Nancy Carey to the Hon. Lemuel Hamilton.

Beulah, June 27th.

Dear Mr. Hamilton,—I am Nancy, the oldest of the Carey children, who live in your house. When father was alive, he took us on a driving trip, and we stopped and had luncheon under your big maple and fell in love with your empty house. Father (he was a Captain in the Navy and there was never anybody like him in the world!)—Father leaned over the gate

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