Dear Cousins:

So rapidly has the time elapsed since receiving your most interesting letters in June that I can hardly realize I am to have the joy of another letter in the near future; but I assure you, most sincerely, I prize each one, and the mental picture of the writer is before me in a way which brightens and lightens all along the way.

     I am glad to know that with the progressive spirit of our worthy Cousin Secretary, we are to have a new infusion of blood in our Clearing House Department [Secretary Will Self refered to reminding Cousins the next letter was due, receiving, typing, duplicating, binding the letters and mailing the books as a "Clearing House"-wbt} and another and younger generation are to be heard from. I shall gladly welcome them to our ranks, and await with much interest their introduction.

     The intervening months have been very uneventful in our lives. I am happy to say, all are well. My eldest grandson, Warren G. Horton (Frank's son) returned to the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor in September where he will begin the study of law; and Faith J. Kimball (Nellie's daughter) entered the University of Oregon at Eugene, Oregon, for a four years' course with journalism as her objective point. (Right here I wish to make a correction in my former letter,‑ our daughter was christened Helen Campbell Horton, and I gave her name Nellie from force of habit as we have always called her by that name).

     One of the recent enjoyable events to be mentioned is the Cousin Gathering at the spacious and hospitable home of Llewellyn and Mabel Shaw, on September 26th. Every one Present seemed attuned to enjoy to the highest degree the good fellowship which prevailed, and the host and hostess were lavish in their most cordial welcome, and Cousins, didn't we enjoy it? But the absent ones were not forgotten and often were their names mentioned in a way to make some of us who were present "green with envy”, and the good Scotch blood in us came to the surface with a promise in our hearts to try and do some thing big ourselves "sometime.”

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There's a bit of Scotch in our blood, I say,
A bit of Scotch in our Clan,
You can catch a glimpse of it all along,
As you backward glance from father to son,
And rejoice in the race they ran.

Out of their hardships and out of their fears,
Out of the lessons they taught,
There flashes a glimpse of our future years,
As we rise above the world's cheap sneers,
And learn from the good they wrought.

So let us strive as we come and go
Their principles to uphold;
With ears most keen to the cry of need
Regardless of station,‑ "politics or creed",
True to their God and Clan.