I was in Cony island. I was in the musium. I saw a bear. I saw a gypsy. I saw a niger man.
We go fishing every mourning. We get a big basket full and do other lots of refreshing things.
I expect to go to the country this summer with my mothers and farthers.
I have had a lovely time the last three weaks. I chop wood and bild fires and go errents and have got two fire crackers saved up for the forth of July.
I write a few lines to letter you know I am a getin on. I went to a excurseon yesterday and I went in barefoot and gethered shels.
A Bird Story.
The little spring has built her nest in the oke tree. Every mourning the mother bird gets up early to find food for her nesterling sense the April came. One day it rained and the little burds sat and looked at the rain as it flowed beneath their feet.
About the Birds.
The little birds are in there houses and rain began to power and when the rain began to stop the little flyed out and the little birds sat up a tree of a bransh and then they churp and some birds come to have a nice time when the grass is green as green pante.