"Oh, girls, I am simply speechless and can't find a word to say when I try to describe our grand trip and this perfect peach of a place, and the glorious time we have had and are having ever since we left pokey old Woodford and arrived at the Blue Bonnet ranch. I keep pinching myself to see if I'm really me, but it isn't at all convincing, and I suppose I'll simply go on treading air and not believe in the reality of a thing till I come to earth in time to hear the Jolly Good say--'Miss Kitty, you may take problem number ninety-four'--and wake up to the monotonous old grind again--oh, if you could only see this darling old house and the picturesque Mexicans--rather dirty some of them (I suppose that's why they are called greasers) and the perfectly dear way they adore Blue Bonnet and their deference to her 'amigos'--I tell you I feel like a princess when they call me 'Senorita' with a musical accent that makes you downright sick with envy. Why anybody on earth ever left the West to go and settle up the East I don't see,--you may think I mean that the other way about but I don't, for anybody can see at half a glance that this country is as old as Methusalem--the live-oaks look as if they'd been here forever and ever and would stay as much longer--they're all 'hoary with moss' and all that sort of thing like that poem of Tennyson's--or maybe it is Longfellow's--it doesn't matter which in vacation, thank goodness. I don't like to seem to be rubbing it in about our good times, for it's just too hateful that you can't be here, too, and ride like mad for miles without coming to a fence and wear the adorable riding-suits Mr. Ashe got for us in New York--all seven alike and as becoming as anything--and have the best things to eat, wear, do, and see every minute of the day. "This won't go into the envelope with the rest if I run on any longer so I'll close,--with a fat hard hug and lots of love to you both, "KITTY."