have always deserved it.

The weather has been lovely here. The cherry trees are in full bloom,
the peach trees just opening, while the apples will not be out for
ten days. The May flowers and bloodroot have gone, the anemonies and
bellwort have come and the violets are coming. All the birds are here,
pretty much, and the warblers troop through the woods.

To my delight, yesterday Kermit, when I tried him on Diamond, did
excellently. He has evidently turned the corner in his riding, and was
just as much at home as possible, although he was on my saddle with his
feet thrust in the leathers above the stirrup. Poor mother has had a
hard time with Yagenka, for she rubbed her back, and as she sadly needs
exercise and I could not have a saddle put upon her, I took her out
bareback yesterday. Her gaits are so easy that it is really more
comfortable to ride her without a saddle than to ride Texas with one,
and I gave her three miles sharp cantering and trotting.

Dewey Jr. is a very cunning white guinea pig. I wish you could see
Kermit taking out Dewey Sr. and Bob Evans to spend the day on the grass.
Archie is the sweetest little fellow imaginable. He is always thinking
of you. He has now struck up a great friendship with Nicholas, rather to
Mame's (the nurse's) regret, as Mame would like to keep him purely for
Quentin. The last-named small boisterous person was in fearful disgrace
this morning, having flung a block at his mother's head. It was done in
sheer playfulness, but of course could not be passed over lightly, and
after the enormity of the crime had been brought fully home to him, he
fled with howls of anguish to me and lay in an abandon of yellow-headed
grief in my arms. Ethel is earning money for the purchase of the Art
Magazine by industriously hoeing up the weeds in the walk. Alice is
going to ride Yagenka bareback this afternoon, while I try to teach
Ethel on Diamond, after Kermit has had his ride.

Yesterday at dinner we were talking of how badly poor Mrs. Blank looked,
and Kermit suddenly observed in an aside to Ethel, entirely unconscious
that we were listening: "Oh, Effel, I'll tell you what Mrs. Blank looks
like: Like Davis' hen dat died--you know, de one dat couldn't hop up on
de perch." Naturally, this is purely a private anecdote.

ARCHIE AND QUENTIN

Oyster Bay, May 7, 1901.

BLESSED TED:

Recently I have gone in to play with Archie and Quentin after they have
gone to bed, and they have grown