erly reading it.

"Oh, Elsie, Elsie, what do you think is going to happen? The most
enchanting thing! Rose Red is coming out here in August! She and Mr.
Browne and Roeslein! Was there ever anything so nice in this world! Just
hear what she says:"--

BOSTON, June 30.

MY DUCKY-DADDLES AND MY DEAR ELSIE GIRL,--I have
something so wonderful to tell that I can scarcely
find words in which to tell it. A kind Providence
_and_ the A. T. and S. F. R. R. have just decided
that Deniston must go to New Mexico early in
August. This would not have been at all delightful
under ordinary circumstances, for it would only
have meant perspiration on his part and widowhood
on mine, but most fortunately, some angels with a
private car of their own have turned up, and have
asked all three of us to go out with them as far
as Santa Fe. What _do_ you think of that? It is
not the Daytons, who seem only to exist to carry
you to and fro from Burnet to Colorado free of
expense, this time, but another batch of angels
who have to do with the road,--name of Hopkinson.
I never set eyes on them, but they appear to my
imagination equipped with the largest kind of
wings, and nimbuses round their heads as big as
shade-hats.

I have always longed to get out somehow to your
Enchanted Valley, and see all your mysterious
husbands and babies, and find out for myself what
the charm is that makes you so wonderfully
contented there, so far from West Cedar Street and
the other centres of light and culture, but I
never supposed I could come unless I walked. But
now I _am_ coming! I do hope none of you have the
small-pox, or pleuro-pneumonia, or the
"foot-and-mouth disease" (whatever that is), or
any other of the ills to which men and cattle are
subject, and which will stand in the way of the
visit. Deniston, of course, will be forced to go
right through to Santa Fe, but Roeslein and I are
at your service if you like to have us. We don't
care for scenery, we don't want to see Mexico or
the Pacific coast, or the buried cities of Central
Amer