October 25, 1896
TO CORRESPONDENTS -- When writing a letter to this department, first give your full name, postoffice and state. Use pen and ink, on smooth paper, not larger than note size. Write only on one side of the paper and do now sew, paste or pin the sheets together. These rules must be observed to insure publication.
BILLY BROWN - Homestead, Floyd Co., Tex. -- Howdy, Big Hat cousins! Won't you let me in? I know I cannot write good letters like some of the cousins, but when I read the letters, I become so interested that, like some politicians, I want "a finger in the pie," too. I am now a "child of the west." I am living on a ranch that has 17,000 acres in it, and to go all around it, is nearly a day's ride, twenty-four miles. I am enjoying ranch life immensely. Plainview is our nearest town of any size, and it is quite a pretty village. Our nearest postoffice is Homestead, which is seven miles from us. Our mail comes in on Tuesdays. Yesterday, I returned from a fifteen mile ride, but I am never too tired to go for the mail, since The Dallas News comes so late in the evening, as we sometimes term it. I started "Shorty" in the direction of Homestead. The wind was blowing a perfect gale, and by various signs I knew of, guessed a thunderstorm was coming. It takes very little time to sweep over these plains on horseback, and it wasn't long before I had my face turned toward the ranch with a load of papers and letters. The sky had now assumed a serious aspect, vivid clouds and heavy black ones, rolled and crowded each other in frightful recklessness. I had never seen a real western storm, but had so often read of them, that I knew to reach shelter, I would have to ride six miles pretty rapidly. Dismounting, I securely (?) tied the mail to my saddle. Then, I let "Shorty" hit the road. It would have been all right if I had let him keep "Hitting the road," but I left the road to avoid going a little out of the way, and turned onto the prairie. Night seemed to come on marvelously fast, and in a few moments, I found myself lost. Now, the winds just chased over these old plains like they were trying to catch a train at the north pole, and as I was going in the direction of the south pole, you know this made it rather inconvenient for me to hold my breath, trot, etc. Shorty is a fine little traveler, but he has a trick of breaking gaits and stumbling. Well, he stumbled in this most "uncertain" time, and helter-skelter went the papers and letters. By the time I had him checked, and being off of the road, and owing to the darkness, I found it impossible to find the papers. In vain, I looked all over where I thought they fell. Knowing further search to be useless, I was now anxious to reach home, as I knew I was causing unnecessary worry, on account of my lateness. I gave up all expectation of finding the road and galloped swiftly in the direction I supposed was right. I reached home safe. Too bad, isn't it, cousins? I am half sorry I didn't altogether lose my way and find myself, "alone and helpless, on the wild desolate plains of the west," with the howling coyote, etc., so I could have written you a most thrilling personal adventure. I would have forever been the daring hero(ine) of our Big Hat world. For months afterwards, the cousins would have plied me with various questions concerning the facts of the case. But, alas! I have to return to plain facts and tell you I slept in a good, warm bed that night, instead of on the prairie. But, often in the night, when the gale would shake me from my deep slumbers, I would think, "These papers! Oh, where are they?" Well, next morning, the "calm of the storm" came, and I rode forth to find the missing messengers of yesterday. You can imagine how difficult the undertaking was when I thought I would probably have to hunt over four or five square miles. Very suddenly, I found them all lying heaped together, and after all that wind! I don't know why, but as I gazed down on them, I thought of the poem, "Little Breeches." If some of you cousins know the piece, will you please tell me why? Books are rather a scarce article out here, and I expect Mr. Big Hat does not doubt it, from the trend of my letter. But, if he will pardon this, I will make my next a model of neatness, wit, humor, etc. I think the boys are "catching up." Hip, hip, hurrah! I am sorry to say I find it the tendency in most papers for the boys to let the girls lead them in letters. Why can't we take up something and discuss it? "What we had better be, and why" "What country we had rather visit, and why," etc. All of these would make good themes. What do you think, cousins? I heard a youngster remark the other day, "Texas children's letters in papers are far inferior to those of the other states," and when I gave him a page of the Big Hat letters, he was surprised. He didn't know The News had a column of that kind, etc., and so, you see, he knew as much about the papers as he did about the children's letters. I like so many of the cousins' letters, but I soon forget the names, but Joe Farmer, you are a wit. Wish I could meet you. And, Wallpaper, your contributions are regular gems. My age is 40x10 - 30 - 2.
HAZEL T. CHAMBERLAIN, Denison, Grayson Co., Tex. -- Little Mr. Big Hat: One would think your patience would be worn threadbare, ere you read and correct the many letters consigned to your capacious drawer, hence, I shall try to be brief in this, my first visit to Mr. Big Hat. Being an only daughter, I have many duties to perform, though, I receive in return, a very liberal amount of petting from my indulgent parents. I once had a sweet baby sister, with a head of golden hair and a face of sunshine and dimples, but the angels came one bright June morning nine years ago and took her to a home where shadows never fall and flowers never fade. I have two brothers left, whom I love very dearly. My age is 13 years. I was born among the snow-capped mountains of Colorado, at an altitude of 10,000 feet above sea level. I am an eighth grade pupil at the Peabody school in Denison, and have one of the most lovable teachers. Would tell you her name, but for fear of making her blush at seeing it in the paper. Will just call her Miss Sugar Sweettemper for short.
HALLIE GROCE, Waxahachie, Ellis Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: I never have been in the Cozy Corner before, for I'm only 5 years old. I've gone through the first reader and I'm in a nature reader now. It tells about crabs and ants and all their funny, smart ways. I give my vote for the American Beauty rose. It is large and red and blooms all the summer. I will answer Jessie Locke's question and tell all the cousins, that when I'm grown, I'm going to stay at home and be mother's little housekeeper, make cakes and dresses and things, and be an old-fashioned girl. My birthday is the 9th of October, and I'm going to have some of my friends to spend that day with me.
SADIE KEBELMAN, Weatherford, Parker Co., Tex. -- Good morning, Mr. Big Hat, and all you jolly cousins! How do you like our first taste of winter? The fire feels very nice this morning, but I do not like to see winter set in so early, as there are so many that are not prepared for a severe winter this year, and my thoughts always turn to them. Well, dear Cousin Lantie, I will vote for my favorite flower, the little white daisy. So many of these little flowers grow wild here in the warm summer months, the meadows are covered with them. I think they are prettier than any tame flower, and always put me in mind of so many little grandmothers nodding their little heads in the warm cozy corner, by the fire. Miss Big Bonnet, I hope you will get in your big brother's chair this week. I am afraid Mr. Big Hat will think a 12-year-old girl could do better than this. I will try next time. I send 10 cents to the Sam Houston memorial stone fund.
ETTA ATKINSON, Palestine, Anderson Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: I wrote to the department about a month ago, but my letter was not printed. I am always telling my pupils to try, tray again, until they succeed, and I suppose I must practice it, also, and make a greater effort. Isn't that right, Mr. Big Hat? Perhaps some of the cousins have never read the story of Laura Bridgman. I will give you a short sketch of her life. She was a blind and deaf mute, born in Hanover, N. H., Dec. 21, 1892; died May 24, 1880. At the age of 2, a severe illness deprived her of sight, hearing and speech. Her sense of smell and taste were also impaired. She was placed in the Perkins institution for the blind, Boston, at the age of 8, and Superintendent Dr. Samuel G. Howe undertook her education. The first step was made by giving her some familiar object, with its name in raised letters, and teaching her at the same time, the qualities of that article and its use or relation to other things. She was also taught to spell by means of movable types. She made rapid progress, and in the course of time, acquired a knowledge of geography and arithmetic, learned to do housework, and also sew, both by hand and on the machine. After receiving her education, Miss Laura taught in the Perkins institution. It is thought that her facility in learning is due to her having had the possession of her senses for twenty-four months, although, at that time, she was unable to use them intelligently, and unable to remember anything at that period. Her moral sense was well developed, and she was a member of the Baptist church. In 1873, Dr. Howe wrote: "She enjoys life quite as much, probably more, than most persons do. She reads whatever book she finds, in raised print, especially the Bible. She makes much of her own clothing and can run a sewing machine. She seems happiest when she can find some one who knows the finger alphabet and can sit and gossip with her about her acquaintances, the news and general matters." If one thus deprived of the senses of hearing, seeing and speech could make such rapid progress, how much more should strive to do -- we, who are blessed with all senses? I am anxiously awaiting Cousins Herbert's and Ludie's pen picture of themselves. Lantie, Sister Mae and myself vote for the Cape jessamine.
Mr. Big Hat's
WILLIE LESTER, Gilmer, Upshur Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: Here I come again, tapping at the door for admittance. I have written to the department once, but it has been such a long while ago, that I guess you all have forgotten me. How I do think the Cozy Corner is improving! That shows that it is enlightening to the cousins to write to The News. I have long been desirous to come and have a chat with the cousins, who write such nice, interesting letters. I will take "Friendship" for my theme. Friendship is the dearest, sweetest relation in life. It soothes our sorrows, and cheers us when disheartened. True friendship can be obtained only by time, experience and a thorough knowledge of one's character and disposition. Pretty faces and winsome smiles are merely outward attractions, and are far inferior to that fond, sympathetic union of hearts. If more of the girls and boys would strive to be good friends, instead of engaging in frivolous love affairs and flirtations, they would derive more real pleasure from each other's society. Now, cousins, don't think I don't believe in love, I do. I think a world without love would be like "a world without a sun." But, I don't believe in any substitutes. There are few people who possess a true, congenial friend, one who will shed tears of sympathy for them when afflicted with sorrow and misfortune and laugh with them over their pleasures. So, let us be kind and gentle to our friends, while they are with us, for we know not at what time we may lose them. How often people are deceived into thinking they have friends, and when some failure or misfortune happens that lowers their position in life, they awake to find they were all "sunshine friends," and have vanished. "Flies leave the kitchen when the dishes are empty." False friends have often the power to snatch all your earthly possessions from you, and blight all the sunshine and happiness from your life. But, I must not monopolize any more space this time. I fear I have already overstepped my bounds. Mr. Big Hat, enclosed find 2 cents for yours and Miss Big Bonnet's pictures. As to the flower contest, I will vote for the white rose. My age is 14 years. I would like to correspond with one of my age.
JAMES L. THOMAS, Kickapoo, Anderson Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: Should I be permitted to join your Cozy Corner, I'll thank you in advance, and shall be very much delighted to call on the cousins more than once, to engage in the interchange of words. I am 14 years old, and a prettier little sunburnt kid, you never saw. Kickapoo is situated in Anderson county, about twenty miles from Palestine, in a northeasterly direction, which throws it amid the great hills. The noiseless Neches river passes hurriedly by our village, and the gigantic pinery causes the amazed heart of the passer-by to leap with wonderment as he casts his strong eyes to he aerial branches. Oftimes, one will notice a playful little foxsquirrel scanning the branches, at times apparently suspended in midair like an ideal aerialist, making your heart, at times, throb heavily with fright, thinking, what if his little foot should slip. There is one extra large pine tree in our neighborhood, and it is told as a joke, that the sun has been known to lodge in its branches, causing a fearful long day. And, another is told that it is directly on the moon's orbit and the moon goes there to change faces, and to prove this, one can go and look under the huge tree and find old moon-hulls, new hulls, first quarter hulls, etc. Cousins, don't you all think the moon would have a nice evergreen place to rest and exchange faces? Well, school begins the first of next month, and I am glad of it, too, for I had rather go to school than pick cotton. What is it that a boy should first learn, after he has become 12 or 14 years old? Let's all discuss it a little.
JOHNNIE ELLIS, Hillsboro, Hill Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: I heartily indorse what one of the cousins said, in regard to truthfulness, a short time ago. And, while I can't perjure myself by saying that I tell the truth in all things, I will certainly adhere to that policy. But, enough on that line. Cousins, I wish to tell you of a little adventure I had the other day. For about two weeks, there had been a drove of wild geese making their headquarters in Uncle Joe's big tank, and I had been trying to get a shot at them for several days, but without success. So, one day I concluded I would lay a trap that would catch the whole bunch. I built a nice little pen out of some wire netting, under some bushes in the upper end of the tank and covered it over. I then made a door in one end large enough to admit a goose. I got an old tame goose and killed it, and skinned it and took the skin with the feathers on it and fitted it over my head. Then, I was ready for business. After quietly slipping into the tank, during the absence of the geese, I patiently waited developments. It was not long before the geese came flopping over, and seeing, as they supposed, another goose in the tank, they immediately settled down into the water. We dived after crawfish a while and had a fine time. After a bit, I suggested that we should go up to the upper end of the tank, where I knew some corn to [be], with the exception of one old gander, who said he would stay there and watch and keep anything from coming and catching us. So, I headed the rest off toward where my pen was hidden, and we were just getting along "swimmingly," when bang! bang! rang out two gun reports, right at us, and with one excited scream, all the geese arose high into the air, but myself and one gosling. I was shot through the wing, and the other gosling was killed. I immediately began to yell at the man not to shoot any more, that I would surrender, and, he thinking it was a goose talking, grabbed his gun and ran off. So, all I got out of my exciting adventure was one little gosling.
CARLISLE RUSSELL, Aubrey, Denton Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: I sincerely thank you, Mr. Big Hat, for the publication of my most unworthy communication, and I hope you may ever be successful and prosperous in the various undertakings and enterprises in which you may become the happy participant. Cousins, I also desire to extend to you my most sincere thanks and congratulations for your many bright and interesting letters. You have not the remotest idea of the genuine pleasure I have derived from the reading of your most interesting letters. If you continue to improve as rapidly in the future, as you have in the past, I shall feel assured my saying that you shall reap your reward from the purling field of fame and success. Cousin Delia Robertson, you are correct, in regard to my age. Thinking that it might be of interest to some of the cousins at least, I will write you a letter on the subject of "Success or Failure." Mankind everywhere, is desirous of achieving success of making the most of life. At times, it is true, some act as if they little cared what was the outcome of their exertions. But, even in the lives of the most abandoned and reckless, there are moments when their good angel points out to them, the heights that they might ascend. Then, a wish arises for "something better than they have known." But, alas! they have not will to make the necessary exertion. We are confronted with two great ends -- success or failure. To win the former, it requires of us, both labor and perseverance. We must remember that those who start for glory, must imitate the mettled bounds of Acton, and must pursue where there is a path, and also, where there is none. We must be able to simulate and disseminate; to leap and to creep, to conquer the earth like Caesar; to fall down and kiss it like Brutus; to throw the sword like Brennus, into the trembling scale; or, like Nelson, to snatch the laurels from the doubtful hand of victory while she is hesitating where to bestow them. He that would win success in life must make perseverance the bosom friend; experience, his wise counselor; caution, his elder brother, and hope, his guardian genius. "Life is too short," says a shrewd thinker, "for us to waste one moment in deploring our lot. We must go after success, since it will not come to us, and we have no time to spare." Cousins, if we wish to succeed, we must do as we would to get in through a crowd to a gate, that all are anxious to reach -- hold our ground and push hard; to stand still is to give up the battle. We must give our energies to the highest employment of which our natures are capable. We must be alive, be patient, work hard, watch opportunities; be rigidly honest, hope for the best, and, if we are not able to reach the goal of our ambition, which is possible, in spite of our utmost efforts, we will die with the consciousness of having done our best, which is, after all, the truest success to which man can aspire. As manhood or womanhood dawns upon us, when we catch the first lights of the pinnacles of realized dreams, of the golden domes of high possibilities, of the perplexing hills of great delight and then look down upon the narrow, sinuous, long and dusty paths by which others have reached them, we are too apt to be disgusted with the passage, and to seek for success through broader and more distinct channels. Here it is that thousands of young persons have made shipwreck of their lives. There is no royal road to success. The path lies through troubles and discouragements. It lies through fields of earned and patient labor. Cousins, have you ever considered, long and earnestly, what you were best capable of doing in this world? If not, put it off no longer. You expect to do something; you wish to achieve success. Have you ever thought of what success consisted? It does not consist in amassing a fortune; some of the most unsuccessful men have done that. Remember, too, that success and fame are not synonymous terms. We can not all be famous as lawyers, statesmen, or divines. We may or may not accumulate a fortune. We can so live that all will honor and respect us. We can speak words of cheer to the down-hearted, a kindly word of caution to the erring one. We can help remove some obstacle from the paths of the weak. We can incite in the minds of those around us, a desire to live pure and straightforward lives. We can bid those who are almost overwhelmed by the billows and waves of sorrow, to look up and see the sun through the rifts in the dark clouds passing o'er them. All this we can do, and a great success will be our reward. Resolve to be a successful man or woman, and then, if wealth or fame wait on you, and men delight to do you honor, these will be but added laurels to your brow, the gilded frame increasing success.
DIXIE R. MITCHELL, Ruth, Coryell Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat: Once more, I knock at the door. Will some one let me in? Be in a hurry, for it is raining out here. To-day is a real wintry day; the wind blows from the northwest, though not cold, and the clouds lower. Cousins, how many of you like winter? I, for one, like it, till I hear the cows coming, then I prefer spring, with her little birds and pretty flowers. Now, let me cast my vote for the Cozy Corner flower. Like some of the others, I think the violet will be nicest. In my last letter, I said when I wrote again, I would tell what I saw coming home from Erath. We camped on a grassy knoll by a spring that runs out of a rocky bank, and we started for home next morning before good day. About sunup, we passed a large sheep ranch, and saw the men driving the sheep to water; and we stopped for them to pass. There were about 2000 head of them, and the little lambs were so pretty. We also saw several droves of turkeys. Perhaps Herbert Taylor would have caught some of them, had he been in the wagon, but alas! he was off on his buzzard ride at the time. We passed through some very pretty country, and some just as ugly, and I know I saw Peggy. What has become of Aggie Kelly and Marion York? Mr. Big Hat, I would like to buy Peggy; what will you take for him? I saw a letter from Bessie Smith of Waco, who wished to know what was charged to join the band, and Mr. Big Hat said "Nothing." But, I think a great deal is required of us before our letters are in print. First, we must write with pen and ink, and on one side of the paper only, and we must write an interesting letter. Now, Mr. Big Hat, isn't that something? Oh, oh! open the door quick, for there comes Peggy! But wait, I have some grass for him and some flowers for his mistress.
ERROL RUSSELL, Aubrey, Denton Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: Will you please admit another boy into your jolly band? I am a great admirer of the Cozy Corner, and its many splendid writers. I read the cousins' letters every week, and think they are as nice as can be. I think the Cozy Corner is the brightest part of the paper. As this is my first attempt to write to any paper, you must excuse an uninteresting letter. I am a farmer's son and like farm work better than any other occupation I know of, except railroading. I expect to be a railroad man when I am grown. I live two miles north of Aubrey. It is situated on the Missouri, Kansas and Texas railroad, fifty-two miles north of Dallas, and about thirty miles south of Gainesville, and is in the center of the county. It contains about 500 inhabitants. There are three churches, Baptist, Methodist and Christian, three dry goods stores, two grocery stores, two drug stores, two hardware stores, one livery stable, two blacksmith shops, one hotel, one baker shop, one lumber yard, one saddle house, two improved gins, and a good school. Cousin Joe Rhea, you and I were born on the same day of the month. I will ask a question: When was the battle of Goliad fought? My age is between 10 and 15 years.
DOROTHY EARL, Forney, Kaufman Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and Cousins: Here comes the only daughter of an earl. Will you kindly push ajar your door and let me enter this merry circle, and rest my weary limbs ensconced in that big wicker rocker, just behind Peggy? Thanks! Now, don't call me an old fogy, just because I don't happen to be up with the "latest." I haven't seen the Cozy Corner in ever so long a time, and was not aware that Mr. Taylor had returned from his aerial trip on the buzzard's back. Don't even know Mr. Lantie, whose praises you are all lauding so much. Doubtless if I were Lantie or Miss Ludie Sanders, I would be nothing but a bit of vanity. But then, I suppose there is nothing egotistical about them, or they would have been spoiled long ago. Some of you seem to be very poetical, but alas, not so with me! While it is given some to tread the emerald pavements of an imaginative Eden, I am forced to travel this common earth. However great an education I may some day attain, I dare not hope to be a poetess, no, not even numbered among the best contributors of this department. You will, of course, not wonder at this when I tell you that Mr. Farmer's letter was overflowing to such an extent, with such wonderful "jaw breakers," that I could not strengthen my comprehensive faculties enough to understand even the simplest. Surely, he has exhausted his vocabulary, and will not attempt to give us another soon. But, if he does, I think we lesser lights will have to prevail on Mr. Big Hat to rule him out. I never could enjoy reading anything, when all the time it seemed as if there was a swarm of bees buzzing around in the upper story of my cranium. But, now that the mist has cleared away, I will attempt to draw a pen-picture of -- but ah! I hear that awful buzzing again, and when I look up, I behold a young mule slowly approaching, seemingly heavily laden with a great big load of something, surely not English. On closer observation, I recognize in him, Mr. Farmer, with his mighty squib, and as I feel my strength deserting me, I must hasten to make my exist as quickly as I did my debut.
ETTA LEE, Nathan, Johnson Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: Will you admit another girl into your happy band? I have, for a long time, been a silent admirer, but this is my first attempt to write. My age is 15 years.. If I just could write letters like Genevieve, I would not mind to write. I wonder what has become of Thomas Stewart and Odis Riddle? Come again, boys. I think it is nice to select a subject and write about it. I will tell you about the lost birds. The lost birds are the Auk, the Labrador duck, the Dodo, the Vulture of the Alps and the Rail. Hidden in the earth or swamps or in rocks, we find the bones of birds that lived long ago, and are now extinct. Some of these lost birds lived long before man and beast. Others have been well known, until a recent time. I will tell you of a few that have lived until lately. First, I shall mention the great auk. This was a large, handsome bird along the shores of the northern seas. As this bird was good to eat, large numbers of them were killed. There should have been a law to protect them while raising their young. As there was no law, they were killed at any time, and their eggs and young were taken. Thus, year by year, they perished, until now, none are left. The auk was a very large bird with black and white feathers. In summer, the bird's plumage is sooty black, while, in winter, it changes to white. It had very rich legs, broad, webbed feet and very small wings. When sitting at rest on a rock, it held itself straight up, and was nearly three feet high. It was a wonderful swimmer and diver, but could not walk much, and did not fly, except from rock to rock. Its bill was very large and strong. The inside of the bill was made up of cells, something like a honeycomb, and each of these filled with air. So, instead of these bills being heavy, they were light. The Labrador duck is a neighbor to the great auk. This bird often built its nest close by where the auk laid its bright-colored eggs, near the water's edge. The Labrador duck swam in the same waters, and both were gentle birds. The duck, like the auk, is lost. The last one seems to have been killed a few years ago. It is a very beautiful bird. People wanted its flesh and eggs and feathers, and did not spare the old bird to raise her broods. This makes me think of the fable of the greedy man who killed the goose that laid the golden eggs. Then, he had neither goose, nor eggs. I think it served him right. Chief among lost birds is the famous dodo. This dodo was an immense pigeon. It was a helpless, quiet, kind, clumsy bird, and was very easily caught and torn by dogs and cats. The dodo had never before seen any wild animals larger than the rat or squirrel, until they were taken to the island of Mauritius, where the dodo lived when ships began to visit the island where the poor dodo lived. Men and dogs and cats soon put an end to the gentle birds. Lost with the auk and dodo, we may count two kinds of beautiful parrots, also a tall, handsome bird called the rail. He has been hunted out of existence, but some of the rail are still plentiful. The last bird to disappear has been the great vulture of the Alps. This was certainly a large bird. It measured six feet across its outspread wings. It lived on the high peaks of the Alps. This was a cruel bird. We ought to be glad it has gone from the earth. Then, too, while birds may be killed for food, it was not right to kill them for the mere pleasure of killing. It is wrong to find pleasure in taking away life. We should never waste the life of birds, beasts, insects or plants. We should remember that we are not the first people on the earth. So, we shall not be the last, and we should not rob the future of things that are pleasing to us. We should try to make the earth richer and better, not poorer, for our having been in it.
LOUISE GROCE, Waxahachie, Ellis Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat, Miss Big Bonnet and the cousins: Here I come again, after two or three months' absence. I believe I'll just turn the knob, walk right in and chat with you all a while. I'm glad to say it's cooler here than it has been, and we are enjoying a little shower every now and then. We went out to see Daisy's little new calf the other day (Daisy's our pretty cow), and just as I was so interested looking at it, sister called out, "Oh, yonder comes Daisy. I turned and ran, not looking where I went, and I ran right against her horns. I was frightened nearly to death, and I tell you, I got back to the house pretty quick. I don't think Daisy meant to hurt me or scare me, either, but she certainly did scare me. I think the American Beauty rose ought to be our emblem. I like it because it has the name of our country. It is large, bright and pretty, and blooms all the summer. I will answer Jessie Locke's question. I am going to be a typewriter when I am grown and help father. He is a lawyer. Herbert Taylor, I think you must be very freckled, for being up so high and going so fast, your hat would blow away and leave you unprotected, with the sun beaming down on your face. I don't think you have much eyes left, only little and squinted ones, being up so near to the sun. You have dark hair (most boys have.) You must not be fat and not very long, because if you were, the buzzards could not carry you. Maud Carson, I think you wrote such splendid letters, that you ought to write again. I liked Roxie Horton's and Frankie Watts' letters that said they were going to play with dolls as long as they could. I am, too. I have such a pretty doll. She has long, natural hair, beautiful brown eyes, is about two feet tall, and is named Helen, after my mother. She was given to me last Christmas by a gentleman friend of mine, and I love her very much. I hope to meet many of the cousins at the fair this fall.
LEILA ROSENTHAL, Jefferson, Marion Co., Tex. -- Good evening, Mr. Big Hat! I have just finished reading the cousins' letter. I enjoyed reading Herbert Taylor's, Robert Moore's and Jesse G. Locke's the most. Please, won't somebody describe to me Herbert's famous ride that I hear so much talk about? I hadn't begun reading the letters when "our poet" described it. As the cousins are voting for an emblem flower for the Cozy Corner, I will cast my vote for the saucy pansy. It is my favorite, and if I had a second choice, I would vote for the modest little white violet. Come again, John Criddle and Hattie Simmons. School begins on the 28th, and I am glad to get to studying again. I am in the sixth grade.
BERTHA SPENCE, Dresden, Navarro Co., Tex. -- Mr. Big Hat and cousins: Here comes another reader of the Cozy Corner to talk a while with you. I am a little girl, 9 years old. I have one brother and had one sister, but my sister is dead. My papa is dead, and I live with my grandpa. We are having a nice time this summer. Some of my cousins are spending the summer with me. We have a large crop, and I have to hoe and pick cotton. How many of the cousins like to do that? I went to school last winter and liked to go, for it was the first time I ever went to school in my life. Here is Peggy, just ready to kick me away and eat my letter up.
BETTIE RICHARDS, Grapeland, Houston Co., Tex. -- Miss Big Bonnet and cousins: I have just been reading some letters from the Cosy Corner, and thought I would like to join it. You look so nice in your picture. I want to see it again. I live in the country, and I think I like it better than I would in town, for I can hear the little birds singing from morning till night. I go to Sunday school every Sunday evening. I am in the intermediate quarterly. I am going to school this winter. I am 8 years old. I like to go to school very much. I am in the third reader. I will write again if Peggy doesn't get this letter.
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