Dear Girls,

So far your letters sound so strenuous they fairly take my breath, but I guess I belong to your race just the same, tho each of us make some little *** that is different. We had war work a-plenty, too, but since that pressure is off, the shifting of activities has brought us more of Y.W.C.A. work than ever. While I've steadily refused the presidency of our organization here, I've been doing quite a share of the work.

Two years ago I was sent to New York for the Northeastern Field Conference which was certainly an eye-opener as to personnel and scope of national work - then the following spring I was sent to Cleveland to the National Convention. Wasn't it a wonderful inspiration! If any of you were there? Our local work grows because we've had the most unusual girl as secretary for two years. Scarcely a teenage girl in the town or vicinity who does not belong to one of our clubs. The greatest need is to help the large Italian settlement here. The Catholic Priest (who is exceptionally narrow minded) threatened to excommunicate parents if children came to our clubs. The secretary interviewed him and found he would not carry out the work even in his own building or with his own leaders, so she and the families just defied him.

My little family grows by feet instead of inches it seems to me. Edgar is spending his second year in boarding school, while Peg merely wears her mother's clothes, and Bruce is no longer a baby at seven years.

Their father's business has kept him away from home except for weekends, so I've been actual [OBSCURED] of the vineyards for three years, besides doing all my own housework except the laundry. I can sympathize with you who do likewise; but really Nance Nulton you don't know the joy of actually making butter and living among the things you create. And while harvest time keeps you *** from daylight to dark, you feel satisfied with accomplishment.

Our vacation comes in the winter, so I snatched up my husband and ran off for a West Indies cruise of a month last February. It was a most interesting trip- if any of you ever have the opportunity- it is surely worth while. Its an interesting study of influences- English, Spanish, French even Hindoo Coolies - and everu time you know the instant you enter an American port, be it Panama, St. Thomas or elsewhere.

I think the most thrilling trip was over the narrow gage R.R. from La Guiana up to Caracas, 6500 ft. in straight miles or 23 winding ones, on a road shored up along the mountain side, and you spend your time shaking hands with the engineer from the rear platform. Such contortions and figure eights, I never before experienced on a train, nor ever saw an engine cross over its own rear car. The scenery was wonderful as you may imagine. As to the port of St. Thomas - it is well worth to (OBSCURED) United States what was paid for it - almost (land-locked) against attack- and one of the most beautiful sights at sundown I've ever witnessed. But to return for my sojourn at any of these places, only Port Antonio in Jamaica or Nassau would ever tempt me.

I must tell you about Walter Paultney, The Balto. Society 'Sir Walter' and cotillion leader, who was aboard the '***' He surely is fantastic, like a bantam Kentucky colonel - always with his pink outfit from hat-band, shirt, ties etc. to socks and (OBSCURED) young girls' white strapped sandals- or his sky-blue array with four turquoise rings on each hand, he never missed a dance, nor the chance to beau the elite, his last being Lady Henry, an East-side NY Jewess widow with a string of hickory- nut pearls, a pseudo-English accent (she didn't know Balto. was only 40 miles from Washington) and 250 lbs. avoir du pois. But when it came to hoisting her into launches, etc. she found the 5th officer quite a good friend.

Now that our Main Road (street, too) is paved, you can motor from New York to Chicago right past our door- 60 miles west of Buffalo- I hope you all will come and be sure to stop. We like a certain class of tramps, so you will find a warm welcome from

Margaret Hukill Taylor

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