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.IBRARY
DIVERSITY OF
CALIFORNIA
JAN DIEGO
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CHILDREN'S LETTERS
A Collection of Letters Written
to Children by Famous
Men and Women
COLLECTED BY
ELIZABETH COLSON
AND ^
ANNA GANSEVOORT CHITTENDEN
HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE
31-33-35 West 15TH Street, New York Qty
Copyright, igos, by
HINDS, NOBLE & ELDREDGE
INTRODUCTION
Among the letters of famous men and women
there are many which were written to children.
If you wait until you are old enough to enjoy the
correspondence of grown people, you will lose much
of the pleasure that their letters to children will give
you now.
We have collected some of the letters and put them
in this book for you. They bear the post-marks of
many countries, and tell about the strange and wonder-
ful things that the writers met in their travels. You
will find fairy stories as well as true stories in these
letters and although they do not bear your name and
address, still we hope that you will enjoy them, almost
as much as the boys and girls to whom they were
written.
Elizabeth Colson.
Anna Gansevoort Chittenden.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Appreciation and thanks are due to the following persons for
permission to use these letters : —
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. : " Hawthorne and his Wife." " Life
of Celia Thaxter," " Memories of Thomas Hood," " Life of Long-
fellow," " Familiar Letters of Sir Walter Scott," " Memoirs and
Letters of Dolly Madison," '' Letters of Oliver Wendell Holmes."
Doubleday, Page & Co. : Extracts from " Story of My Life," by
Hellen Keller.
Harper Brothers : " Memoirs of the Rev. Sidney Smith,"
" Letters of Robert Southey."
E. P. Button : " Lewis Carroll."
The Macmillan Co., London : " Charles Kingsley, Letters and
Memoirs of his Life."
The Mdcmillan Co., New York: "The Letters of Charles
Dickens."
D. Appleton & Co. : " Life and Letters of Thomas Huxley."
The Century Co. : " Life and Letters of Lewis Carroll."
Charles Scribner's Sons : •• Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson."
Sampson, Low, Marston & Co., Limited, London : " The Men-
delssohn Family."
Dean and Son, London : " Hans Andersen's Life and Corre-
spondence."
George Bell's Son, London : " The Paston Letters."
For permission to use family letters we gratefully acknowledge
the courtesy of —
Robert Lincoln : Letters of Abraham Lincoln.
William G. Brooks and Rev. John C. Brooks : Letters of Bishop
Brooks.
R. E. Lee : Letters of General Lee.
Edwina Booth Grossman : Letters of Edwin Booth.
Katherine Miller : Poem, " Stevenson's Birthday."
V
CONTENTS
PHILLIPS BROOKS page
" Dear Gertie " i
"My dear Agnes" 3
"Dear Gertie" 5
"My dear Gertie" 6
"My eear Gertie" ......•• 9
"Little Mistress Josephine" ii
"Dear Gertie" »3
"Dear Tood" 14
MARTIN LUTHER
To HIS Son Hans 16
To HIS Family 18
SYDNEY SMITH
"My dear Douglas" 21
"Dear little Gee" 21
"Lucy, Lucy, my dear Child" 22
To Martin Humphrey Mildmay 23
To his Grandchild 24
" My dear Charles " ....... 24
vii
viii CONTENTS
CHARLES KINGSLEY page
"My darling Mary" ....... 26
" My dear little Man " 28
JULIAN HUXLEY
"Dear Grandfather" . . . . . . .31
THO^L\S HUXLEY
"My dear Julian" 31
HELEN KELLER
"Dear St. Nicholas" 33
"Dear kind Poet" 35
"Dear kind Poet" 39
"My dear Mr. Brooks" 42
" Mv dear Mr. Brooks " 47
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES
" My dear little Friend Helen " 37
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER
"My dear young Friend" ...... 41
DR. BROOKS
"My dear Helen" 44
MENDELSSOHN
To Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn .... 50
To Fanny 5^
Felix Mendelssohn to his Parents . . . 52-53
CONTENTS ix
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON page
A Document 55
" My dear Louisa " 57
ROBERT SOUTHEY
"Bertha, Kate, and Isabel" 61
" My dear Cuthbert " 64
SIR WALTER SCOTT
"My dear Sophia" 68
" My dear Sophia " 69
Letters written by Marjory Fleming . . . 70-73
THOMAS HOOD
"My dear Dunnie" 74
"My dear May" 78
"My dear Jeanie" 80
"My dear May" 83
CHARLES DICKENS
"Respected Sir" 86
"My dear Lotty" . . . . . . . .87
" My dear Mary " 89
" My dear Lily " 91
DUKE OF SUFFOLK
" My dear and only well-beloved Son " . . .93
SIR HENRY SIDNEY
To his Sons, Philip and Robert .... 95-98
X CONTENTS
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDP:RSEN page
" My dear litfle Friend " 102
MARY LIVINGSTONE
"Df:AR Hans Andersen" 100
" My dear Hans C. Andersen " loi
"My dearest H. Andersen" 103
DOLLY MADISON
To Mary Cutts 106
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
" My dear little Miss " 107
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
To HIS Daughter Sally 108-109
CELIA THAXTER
" My darling little Nan " \\v
"My dear Anson" 112
EDWIN BOOTH
"My beloved Daughter" 115
"My dear big Daughter" 116
"Tweet, tweet, how d'y do!" 117
To his Daughter 118
ROBERT E. LEE
"My dear little Agnes" 122
"My dear little Daughter" 124
"My precious Life" 126
CONTENTS
XI
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW page
To Emily A 132
To Florence A. 134
" My dear Miss Bessie " 135
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
" My dear litfle Una " 137
"My dearest Una" 138
MRS. HAWTHORNE
"My darling Boy"
LEWIS CARROLL
" My dear Ada " . . . ,
" My jear Gertrude "...
" My dear Birdie " .
" Oh, you naughty little Culprit "
"My dear Nellie" ....
139
143
145
146
147
151
From _
Phillips Brooks
to
His Nieces.
Phillips Brooks, the great preacher, loved children dearly. He
had no little ones of his own, but his nieces were like daughters
to him. He saw the little girls often when in Boston, and they
were his regular correspondents when he was away from home.
Bishop Brooks was such a busy man and worked so hard that
sometimes he was tired and was obliged to go abroad to travel
for a few months. He always missed his little friends when
away from them, for repeatedly he wrote : " I wish you were with
me," or " if you were only here." A great part of his pleasure
in the strange places he visited was to write about what he saw
and heard. Here are a few of the letters that he wrote to his
nieces : —
Venice, August 13, 1882.
Dear GertiCy — When the little children in Venice
want to take a bath, they just go down to the front
steps of the house and jump off, and swim about in
the street. Yesterday I saw a nurse standing on
the front steps, holding one end of a string and the
other end was tied to a little fellow who was swim-
ing up the street. When he went too far the nurse
pulled in the string and got her baby home again.
Then I met another youngster, swimming in the
I
2 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
street, whose mother had tied him to a post by the
side of the door, so that when he tried to swim away
to see another boy, who was tied to another doorpost
up the street, he couldn't, and they had to sing out
to one another over the water.
Is not this a queer city ? You are always in
danger of running over some of the people and
drowning them, for you go about in a boat instead of
a carriage, and use an oar instead of a horse. But it
is ever so pretty, and the people, especially the chil-
dren, are very bright and gay and handsome. When
you are sitting in your room at night, you hear some
music under your window, and look out, and there
is a boat with a man with a fiddle, and a woman with
a voice, and they are serenading you. To be sure,
they want some money when they are done, for
everybody begs here, but they do it very prettily and
are full of fun.
Tell Susie I did not see the Queen this time. She
was out of town. But ever so many noblemen and
princes have sent to know how Toody was, and how
she looked, and I have sent them all her love.
There must be lots of pleasant things to do at
Andover, and I think you must have had a beautiful
summer there. Pretty soon, now, you will go back
to Boston. Do go into my house when you get
there, and see if the doll and her baby are well and
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES 3
happy (but do not carry them off) ; and make the
music box play a tune, and remember your affec-
tionate uncle,
Phillips.
Wittenberg,
Sunday, September 24, 1882.
My dear Agnes, — I was glad to get your letter,
which reached me a few days ago in Berlin. I think
you were very good indeed to write to me, and it was
a nice letter. . . }
Did you ever hear of Wittenberg ? You will find
it on the map not very far from Berlin. It used to
be a very famous place when Martin Luther lived
here, and was preaching his sermons in the church
whose clock I just now heard strike a quarter of one,
and was writing his books in the room whose picture
is at the top of this sheet of paper. I am sure you
know all about Luther. If not, ask Toody, she
knows most everything. In the picture, you can see
Luther's table, the seat in the window where he and
his wife used to sit and talk, the big stove which he
had built to warm his cold room, and the bust of him-
self, which was taken just after he died and hung up
^ The whole letter is not always given, for sometimes there were
parts hard to understand or enjoy. The points mean that something
has been omitted.
4 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
here. With the exception of that, everything remains
just exactly as he left it, over three hundred years
ago, before your papa, mamma, or Aunt Susan were
born.
It is a queer old town. Just now, when it was
twelve o'clock, I heard some music, and looked out
and found that a band of music was playing psalm
tunes away up in the air in the tower of the old
parish church. My window looks out on the market-
place, where there are two statues, one of Luther, and
one of Melanchthon, who was a great friend of his.
Gertie will tell you about him. And the houses are
the funniest shape, and have curious mottoes carved
or painted over their front door. I came here from
Berlin yesterday, and am going to travel about in
Germany for a few weeks, and then go back to Berlin
again. Berlin is very nice. I wish I could tell you
about a visit which I made, Friday, to one of the
great public schools, where I saw a thousand boys
and a thousand girls, and the way they spelt the
hard words in German would have frightened you
to death.
Tell Susie that I thank her for her beautiful little
letter, and hope she will write me another. You
must write to me again. Give my best love to every-
body, and do not forget your affectionate uncle,
P.
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES 5
[Very Private.] Grand Hotel, Vienna,
November 19, 1882.
Dear Gertie, — This letter is an awful secret be-
tween you and me. If you tell anybody about it, I
will not speak to you all this winter. And this is
what it is about. You know Christmas is coming, and
I am afraid that I shall not get home by that time,
and so I want you to go and get the Christmas presents
for the children. The grown people will not get any
from me this year. But I do not want the children to
go without, so you must find out, in the most secret way,
just what Agnes and Toodie would most like to have,
and get it c,nd put it in their stockings on Christmas
Eve. Then you must ask yourself what you want,
but without letting yourself know about it, and get it
too, and put it in your own stocking, and be very much
surprised when you find it there. And then you must
sit down and think about Josephine De Wolf and the
other baby at Springfield whose name I do not know,
and consider what they would like, and have it sent to
them in time to reach them on Christmas Eve. Will
you do all this for me .■' You can spend five dollars
for each child, and if you show your father this letter
he will give you the money out of some of mine which
he has got. That rather breaks the secret, but you
will want to consult your father and mother about
what to get, especially for the Springfield children ;
6 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
SO you may tell them about it, but do not dare to let
any of the children know of it until Christmas time.
Then you can tell me in your Christmas letter just
how you have managed about it all. . . ,
This has taken up almost all my letter, and so I
cannot tell you much about Vienna. Well, there is
not a great deal to tell. It is an immense great city
with very splendid houses and beautiful pictures and
fine shops and handsome people. But I do not think
the Austrians are nearly as nice as the ugly, honest
Germans. Do you .-'
Perhaps you will get this on Thanksgiving Day.
If you do, you must shake the turkey's paw for me,
and tell him that I am very sorry I could not come
this year, but I shall be there next year certain ! Give
my love to all the children. I had a beautiful letter
from Aunt Susan the other day, which I am going to
answer as soon as it stops raining. Tell her so, if
you see her. Be a good girl, and do not study too
hard, and keep our secret.
Your affectionate uncle,
Phillips.
Jeypore, January 7, 1883.
My dear Gertie, — I wish you had been here with
me yesterday. We would have had a beautiful time.
You would have had to get up at five o'clock, for at
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES 7
six the carriage was at the door, and we had already-
had our breakfast. But in this country you do every-
thing you can very early, so as to escape the hot sun.
It is very hot in the middle of the day, but quite cold
now at night and in the mornings and evenings.
Well, as we drove into the town (for the bungalow
where we are staying is just outside), the sun rose
and the streets were full of light.
The town is. all painted pink, which makes it the
queerest-looking place you ever saw, and on the out-
sides of the pink houses there are pictures drawn,
some of them very solemn and some very funny,
which makes it very pleasant to drive up the street.
We drove through the street, which was crowded
with camels and elephants and donkeys, and women
wrapped up like bundles, and men chattering like
monkeys, and monkeys themselves, and naked little
children rolling in the dust, and playing queer Jeypore
games. All the little girls, when they get to be about
your age, hang jewels in their noses, and the women
all have their noses looking beautiful in this way. I
have got a nose jewel for you, which I shall put in
when I get home, and also a little button for the side
of Susie's nose, such as the smaller children wear.
Think how the girls at school will admire you.
Well, we drove out the other side of the queer pink
town, and went on toward the old town, which they
8 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
deserted a hundred years ago, when they built this.
The priest told the rajah, or king, that they ought
not to live more than a thousand years in one place,
and so, as the old town was about a thousand years
old, the king left it ; and there it stands about five
miles off, with only a few beggars and a lot of
monkeys for inhabitants of its splendid palaces and
temples. As we drove along toward it, the fields
were full of peacocks and all sorts of bright-winged
birds, and out of the ponds and streams the croco-
diles stuck up their lazy heads and looked at us.
The hills around are full of tigers and hyenas, but
they do not come down to the town, though I saw a
cage of them there which had been captured only
about a month and were very fierce. Poor things!
When we came to the entrance of the old town, there
was a splendid great elephant waiting for us, which
the rajah had sent. He sent the carriage too. The
elephant had his trunk and head beautifully painted,
and looked almost as big as Jumbo. He knelt down,
and we climbed up by a ladder and sat upon his
back, and then he toiled up the hill. I am afraid he
thought Americans must be very heavy, and I do not
know whether he could have carried you. Behind
us, as we went up the hill, came a man leading a little
black goat, and when I asked what it was for, they
said it was for sacrifice. It seems a horrid old goddess
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES 9
has a temple on the hill, and years ago they used to
sacrifice men to her, to make her happy and kind.
But a merciful rajah stopped that, and made them
sacrifice goats instead, and now they give the horrid
old goddess a goat every morning, and she likes it
just as well.
When we got into the old town, it was a perfect
wilderness of beautiful things, — lakes, temples, pal-
aces, porticoes, all sorts of things in marble and fine
stones, with sacred long-tailed monkeys running over
all. But I must tell you about the goddess, and the
way they cut off the poor goat's little black head, and
all the rest that I saw, when I get home. Don't you
wish you had gone with me ?
Give my love to your father and mother and Agnes
and Susie. I am dying to know about your Christmas
and the presents. Do not forget your affectionate
uncle
Phillips.
Steamship Verona,
Sunday, March 18, 1883.
My dear Gertie, — It seems to me that our corre-
spondence has not been very lively lately. I don't
think I had a letter from you all the time I was in
India. I hoped I should because I wanted to show
it to the rajahs, and other great people, and let them
10 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
see what beautiful letters American children can
write. But now I am out of India, and for the last
ten days we have been sailing on and on, over the
same course where we sailed last December. Last
Tuesday we passed Aden, and stopped there about
six hours. I went on shore, and took a drive through
the town and up into the country. If you had been
with me, you would have seen the solemn-looking
camels, stalking along with solemn-looking Arabs on
their backs, looking as if they had been riding on and
on that way ever since the days of Abraham. I think
I met Isaac and Jacob on two skinny camels, just out-
side the gates of Aden. I asked them how Esau was,
but Jacob looked mad and wouldn't answer, and
hurried the old man on, so that I had no talk with
them; but I feel quite sure it was they, for they
looked just like the pictures in the Bible.
Since that we have been sailing up the Red Sea,
and on Monday evening we shall be once more
at Suez, and there I say good-by to my companion,
who stops in Egypt, and goes thence to Palestine,
while I hurry on to Malta and Gibraltar in the same
steamer. She is a nice Httle steamer, with a whole
lot of children on board, who fight all the while, and
cry all the rest of the time. Every now and then one
of them almost goes overboard, and then all the
mothers set up a great howl, though I don't see why
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES II
they should care very much about such children as
these are. I should think it would be rather a relief
to get rid of them. Now, if it were you, or Agnes, or
Tood, it would be different !
There has just been service on deck, and I preached,
and the people all held on to something and listened.
I would a great deal rather preach in Trinity.
I hope you will have a pleasant Easter. Mine will
be spent, I trust, in Malta. Next year I hope you
will come and dine with me on Easter day. Don't
forget ! My love to Tood. Your affectionate uncle,
Phillips.
On the p. & O. Steamship Verona,
March 19, 1883.
Little Mistress Josephine, —
Tell me, have you ever seen
Children half as queer as these
Babies from across the seas ?
See their funny little fists,
See the rings upon their wrists ;
One has very little clothes,
One has jewels in her nose ;
And they all have silver bangles
On their little heathen ankles.
In their ears are curious things,
12 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
Round their necks are beads and strings,
And they jingle as they walk,
And they talk outlandish talk ;
One, you see, has hugged another,
Playing she's its little mother ;
One who sits all lone and lorn.
Has her head all shaved and shorn.
Do you want to know their names ?
One is called Jeefungee Hames,
One Buddhanda Arrich Bas,
One Teedundee Hanki Sas.
Many such as these I saw,
In the streets of old Jeypore ;
They never seemed to cry or laugh,
But, sober as the photograph.
Squatted in the great bazaars.
While the Hindoos, their mammas,
Quarreled long about the price
Of their little mess of rice.
And then, when the fight was done,
Every mother, one by one,
Up her patient child would whip.
Set it straddling on her hip,
And trot off all crook'd and bent.
To some hole, where, all content.
Hers and baby's days are spent.
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES 1 3
Aren't you glad, then, little Queen,
That your name is Josephine?
That you live in Springfield, or
Not at least in old Jeypore ?
That your Christian parents are
John and Hattie, Pa and Ma ?
That you've an entire nose,
And no rings upon your toes ?
In a word, that Hat and you
Do not have to be Hindoo ?
But I thought you'd like to see
What these little heathen be,
And give welcome to these three
From your loving
Uncle P.
Trento, Sunday, August 19, 1883.
Dear Gertie, — I bought the prettiest thing you
ever saw for you the other day. If you were to
guess for three weeks, making two guesses every
minute, you could not guess what it is. I shall not
tell you, because I want you to be all surprised to
pieces when you see it, and I am so impatient to give
it to you that I can hardly wait. Only you must be
in a great hurry and get well, because you see it is
only five weeks from to-day that I shall expect to
see you in the dear old study in Clarendon Street,
14 PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES
where we have had such a lot of good times together
before now. Just think of it! We'll set the music
box a-going, and light all the gaslights in the house,
and get my doll out of her cupboard, and dress Tood
up in a red pocket handkerchief and stand her up on
the study table, and make her give three cheers !
And we'll have some gingerbread and lemonade.
I've got a lot of things for you beside the one
which I bought for you the other day. You couldn't
guess what it is if you were to guess forever, but
this is the best of all, and when you see it you will
jump the rheumatism right out of you. I hope you
will be quite well by that time. What sort of a place
is Sharon ? Do not write me about it, but tell me all
about it when I see you. What a lot you will have
to tell. You can tell me what was in that Christmas
letter which the wicked mail man never brought to
me.
Good-by, dear little girl. Don't you wish you
knew what it was that I bought for you the other
day ? Give my love to Agnes and Tood.
Your affectionate uncle,
P.
Denver, June 20, 1886.
Dear Tood, — When I got here last night, I found
the hotel man very much excited, and running around
PHILLIPS BROOKS' LETTERS TO HIS NIECES 1 5
and waving a beautiful letter in the air, and crying
aloud, " A letter from Tood ! A letter from Tood ! "
He was just going to get out a band of music to
march around the town and look for the man to
whom the letter belonged, when I stepped up and
told him I thought that it was meant for me. He
made me show him my name in my hat before he
would give it to me, and then a great crowd gathered
round and listened while I read it. It was such a
beautiful letter that they all gave three cheers, and
I thought I must write you an answer at once,
although I told A., when I wrote to her the other
day, that I should not write to anybody else before
my coming home.
******
I am on my way home now, and next Saturday
will see me back again in Clarendon Street. All
the dear little Chinese, with their pigtails, and the
dreadful great Mormons, with their hundred wives,
and the donkeys and the buffaloes and the Red In-
dians will be far away, and I shall see you all again.
I am impatient for that, for the people out West are
not as good as you are. I am going to preach to
them this morning, to try to make them better, and
it is quite time now to go to church. . . .
Your affectionate uncle,
P.
m\
Martin Luther
^Ejf 1
to
His Family
Some letters do not grow old, but keep their freshness through
many years. The paper turns yellow, and the ink fades, but
nothing destroys the life of the written words ; so the letter which
Martin Luther, the great German reformer, wrote to his little son,
in 1533, is as fresh and sweet to-day as when he wrote it, over
three hundred years ago.
How pleasant it must have been for Luther to turn from all
the grave and serious questions that filled his busy mind, to
write this letter to little Hans !
Grace and peace in Christ to my heartily dear little
son. I see gladly that thou learnest well and prayest
earnestly. Do thus, my little son, and go on. When
I come home I will bring thee a beautiful fairing.^
I know a pleasant garden wherein many children
walk about. They have little golden coats, and pick
up beautiful apples under the trees, and pears, cher-
ries, and plums. They dance and are merry, and
have also beautiful little ponies, with golden reins
and silver saddles. Then I asked the man whose the
garden is, whose children those were ; he said, " These
^ A present, usually something bought at a fair;
keepsake.
16
a souvenir or
MARTIN LUTHER TO HIS FAMILY 1/
are the children who love to pray, who learn their
lessons, and are good." Then I said, " Dear man, I
also have a little son ; he is called Hansichen Luther.
Might not he also come into the garden, that he
might eat such apples and pears, and ride on such
beautiful Httle ponies, and play with these children .'' "
Then the man said, " If he loves to pray, learns his
lessons, and is good, he also shall come into the gar-
den ; Lippus and Fost also [the little sons of Me-
lanchthon] ; and when they all come together they
also shall have pipes, drums, lutes, and all kinds of
music ; and shall dance, and shoot with Httle bows
and arrows."
And he showed me there a fair meadow in the
garden prepared for dancing. There were many
pipes of pure gold, drums, and silver bows and
arrows. But it was still early in the day, so that
the children had not had their breakfast. Therefore
I could not wait for the dancing, and said to the
man, "Ah, dear sir, I will go away at once and write
all this to my little son Hansichen, that he may be
sure to pray and learn well and be good, so that he
also may come into the garden. But he has a dear
Aunt Lena; he must bring her with him." " Then,"
said the man, " let it be so ; go and write him thus."
Therefore, my dear little son Hansichen, learn thy
lessons, and pray with a cheerful heart ; and tell this
1 8 MARTIN LUTHER TO HIS FAMILY
to Lippus and Justus, too, that they also may learn
their lessons and pray. So shall you all come together
into this garden. Herewith I commend you to the
Almighty God ; and greet Aunt Lena, and give her
a kiss for me.
Thy dear father,
Martin Luther.
In those days letters were not common, and when the neigh-
bors heard that one had arrived from Coburg, where Luther was
attending a great meeting, they gathered at Doctress Luther's
house to hear it read. Some of them were shocked with its
simple story of heaven. They thought Luther had trifled with
a very serious subject. However, Luther did not mind criticism,
for his whole life work was bitterly opposed by many. He gave
the people to whom he preached new thoughts of God, and
taught them what was then a new belief.
Another letter, also dated from Coburg, was addressed " to
those who sit around the table at home," which surely included
the children. Here is a part of it : —
Just under our window there is a grove like a little
forest, where the crows have convened a diet, and
there is such a riding hither and thither, such an
incessant tumult day and night, as if they were all
merry and mad with drinking. Young and old chat-
ter together until I wonder how their breath can hold
out so long. I should like to know if any of those
nobles and cavaliers are with you ; it seems to me
they must be gathered here out of the whole world.
MARTIN LUTHER TO HIS FAMILY 1 9
I have not seen their emperor, but their great peo-
ple are always strutting and prancing before our
eyes ; not indeed in costly robes, but all simply clad
in one uniform ; all singing one song, only with the
most amusing varieties between young and old, great
and small. They are not careful to have a great
palace and hall of assembly, for their hall is vaulted
with the beautiful blue sky, their floor is the field
strewn with fair green branches, and their walls reach
as far as the ends of the earth. Neither do they re-
quire steeds and armor ; they have feathered wheels,
with which they fly from shot and danger. They are,
doubtless, great and mighty lords, but what they are
debating I do not yet know.
As far, however, as I understand through an inter-
preter, they are planning a great foray and campaign
against the wheat, barley, and grain, and many a
knight will win his spurs in this war and many
a brave deed will be done.
To-day we have heard the first nightingale, for they
would not trust April. We have had delightful
weather here, no rain except a little yesterday. With
you perhaps it is otherwise. Herewith I commend
you to God. Keep house well.
Given from the Diet of the grain-Turks, the 28th
of April, anno, 1530.
Martin Luther.
Sydney Smith
to
Boys and Girls
If we believe the old story that fairies stand by the cradles of
new-born children to bestow gifts, we feel quite sure that some-
times they leave under the Httle pillow the gift of a cheerful dis-
position. We all know people who have received that gift and
what a precious possession it is. Such people make the world a
better and a sweeter place in which to live.
Sydney Smith's life had many hard places in it ; he knew
what hunger, cold, and disappointment meant, but the magic gift
of the fairies turned his sighs into laughs. He began his career
as curate of a small country parish and lived to preach in the
pulpit of one of England's greatest cathedrals, St. Paul's in
London. If the parishioners laughed at the names he gave his
oxen, Hawl, Crawl, Tug, Lug, no doubt he was pleased, for that
was part of his mission in life — to make people laugh.
Sydney Smith was fond of children and this anecdote shows
him in one of his happiest moods.
" He used to stop and talk to the children of the village as he
passed along the road. He always kept a box of sugarplums in
his pocket for these occasions, and often some rosy-faced urchin
was made happy by sharing its contents or obtaining a penny to
buy a tart. ' Let it be large and full of juice, Johnny,' he would
say, ' so that it may run down both corners of the mouth.' "
We are glad to have found some of his letters, for his written
words are almost as entertaining as his spoken words were.
20
SYDNEY SMITH TO BOYS AND GIRLS 21
To Douglas Smith, his Son, 14 Years Old
(Pupil at Westminster College)
FosTON Rectory, i8ig.
My dear Douglas, — I am glad you liked your box
and its contents. Think of us as we think of you
and send us the most acceptable of all presents, the
information that you are improving in all particulars.
The greatest of all human mysteries are the West-
minster holidays. If you can get a peep behind the
curtain, pray let us know immediately the day you
are coming home. We have had about three or four
ounces of rain here, that is all. I heard of your
being wet through in London and envied you very
much. The whole of this parish is pulverized from
long and excessive drought. Our whole property
depends upon the tranquillity of the winds ; if it
blows before it rains we shall all be up in the air in
the shape of dust, and shall be " transparished " we
know not where. God bless you, my dear boy. I
hope we shall soon meet at Lydiard.
Your affectionate father,
Sydney Smith.
Written on the first page of a letter of his youngest daughter
to her friend Miss .
FOSTON, 1823.
Dear little Gee, — Many thanks for your kind and
affectionate letter, I cannot recollect what you mean
22 SYDNEY SMITH TO BOYS AND GIRLS
by our kindness ; all that I can remember is that you
came to see us and we all thought you were very
pleasant, good hearted, and strongly infected with
Lancastrian tones and pronunciations. God bless
you, dear child ! I shall always be very fond of you,
till you grow tall and speak without an accent and
marry some extremely disagreeable person.
Ever very affectionately yours,
Sydney Smith.
From London he wrote this letter to Miss Lucy .
London, July 22, 1835.
Lucy, Lucy, my dear child, don't tear your frock ;
tearing frocks is not in itself a proof of genius ; but
write as your mother writes ; act as your mother
acts ; be frank, loyal, affectionate, simple, honest, and
then integrity or laceration of frock is of little import.
And Lucy, dear child, mind your arithmetic. You
know in the first sum of yours I ever saw, there was
a mistake. You had carried two (as a cab is licensed
to do) and you ought, dear Lucy, to have carried but
one. Is this a trifle } What would life be without
arithmetic but a scene of horrors.
You are going to Boulogne, the city of debts,
peopled by men who never understood arithmetic ;
by the time you return I shall probably have received
SYDNEY SMITH TO BOYS AND GIRLS 23
my first paralytic stroke and shall have lost all recol-
lection of you ; therefore I now give you my parting
advice. Don't marry any one who has not a tolerable
understanding and a thousand a year, and God bless
you, dear child.
Sydney Smith.
It is well, perhaps, that he tells Lucy to copy her mother's
penmanship rather than his. for the story is told of a parishioner
who asked to see one of his sermons. The clergyman replied,
'• I would send it to you with pleasure, but my writing is as if a
swarm of ants escaping from an ink bottle had walked over a
sheet of paper without wiping their feet."
Sydney Smith was able to " make merry " even when he was
ill. He once wrote jestingly to a friend, "I have gout, asthma,
and seven other maladies, but am otherwise very well." But
when sickness visited any one else he was full of sympathy. The
following letter to a little sick boy shows this to be true.
To Martin Humphrey Mildmay
April 30, 1836.
I am very sorry to hear you have been so ill. I
have inquired about you every day, till I heard you
were better. Mr. Travers is a very skillful surgeon
and I have no doubt you will soon be well. In the
Trojan war the Greek surgeons used cheese and wine
for their ointments and in Henry the Eighth's time
cobblers' wax and rust of iron were the ingredients ;
so you see it is some advantage to live in Berkley
Square in the year 1837.
24 SYDXEY SMITH TO BOYS AND GIRLS
I am going to Holland and I will write to you from
thence to tell you all I have seen, and you will take
care to read my letter to Mr. Travers. In the mean-
time, my dear little Humphrey, I wish you most
heartily a speedy recovery, and God bless you !
S. S.
To HIS Grandchild
On sending him a letter over weight.
Oh, you little wretch ! Your letter cost me four-
pence. I will pull all the plums out of your pud-
dings ; I will undress your dolls and steal their
underpetticoats ; you shall have no currant jelly to
your rice ; I will kiss you till you cannot see out of
your eyes ; when nobody else whips you, I will do
so ; I will fill you so full of sugarplums that they
shall run out of your nose and ears ; and lastly, your
frocks shall be so short that they shall not come
below your knees.
Your loving grandfather,
Sydney Smith.
To Charles Fox
October, 1836.
My dear Charles ^ — If you have ever paid any
attention to the habits of animals, you will know that
donkeys are remarkably cunning in opening gates.
SYDNEY SMITH TO BOYS AND GIRLS 2$
The way to stop them is to have two latches instead
of one. A human being has two hands and Hfts up
both latches at once ; a donkey has only one nose,
and latch A drops as he quits it to lift up latch B.
Bobus [Smith's brother] and I had the grand luck to
see little Aunty engaged intensely with this problem.
She was taking a walk and was arrested by a gate
with this formidable difficulty ; the donkeys were
looking on to await the issue. Aunty lifted up the
first latch with the most perfect success, but found
herself opposed by a second ; flushed with victory,
she quitted the first latch and rushed at the second ;
her success was equal, till in the meantime the first
dropped. She tried this two or three times and, to
her utter astonishment, with the same result. The
donkeys brayed, and Aunty was walking away in
great dejection, till Bobus and I recalled her with
loud laughter, showed her she had two hands, and
roused her to vindicate her superiority over the don-
keys. I mention this to you to request that you will
make no allusion to this animal, as she is remarkably
touchy on the subject, and also that you will not men-
tion it to Lady Mary. I wish you would both come
here next year.
Always yours, my dear Charles,
Very sincerely,
Sydney Smith.
Letters of TRAysi.
from
Charles Kingsley
There was great rejoicing in the family of Charles Kingsley
one Christmas when the children found among their gifts a new
book of stories written by their father and dedicated to them.
On the very first page they read these words : " Come hither
children at this blessed Christmas time when all God's creatures
should rejoice together and bless him who redeemed them.
Come and see old friends of mine whom I knew before you were
born. They are come to visit us at Xmas, out of the world
where all live to God and to tell you some of their old fairy tales
which they loved when they were young like you."
Charles Kingsley wrote and illustrated " The Heroes " for his
children, Rose, Maurice, and Mary. It must have made them
very happy to have their busy father give them so much of his
time. He was a good correspondent, and when he was absent
from home, the children received delightful letters describing his
travels.
One day Mary received this letter ; judging by the contents
it was written from Bayonne, France, but it is undated : —
My Darling Mary, — I am going to write you
a long letter about all sorts of things. And first,
this place is full of the prettiest children I ever saw,
very like English but with dark hair and eyes ; and
so nicely dressed, with striped stockings which they
26
LETTERS FROM CHARLES KINGSLEY 2/
knit themselves, and Basque shoes made of canvas,
worked with red and purple worsted. . . . All the
children go to a school kept by nuns and I am sure
the poor nuns are very kind to them, for they laugh
and romp, it seems to me, all day long. In summer
most of them wear no shoes or stockings for they do
not want them ; but in winter they are wrapped up
warm ; and I have not seen one ragged child or
tramp or any one who looks miserable. They never
wear any bonnets. The little babies wear a white
cap, and the children a woolen cap, with pretty
colors, and the girls a smart handkerchief on their
back hair, and the boys and men wear blue and
scarlet caps like Scotchmen, just the shape of mush-
rooms, and a red sash. The oxen here are quite
yellow and so gentle and wise, the men make them
do exactly what they like. I will draw you an ox
cart when I come home. The banks here are cov-
ered with enormous canes as high as the eaves of
our house. They tie one of these to a fir pole and
make a huge long rod, and then go and sit on the
rocks and fish for dorados, which are fish with gilt
heads. There are the most lovely sweet-smelling
purple pinks on the rocks here, and the woods are
full of asphodel, great lilies four feet high, with white
and purple flowers. I saw the wood yesterday where
the dreadful fight was between the French and the
28 LETTERS FROM CHARLES KLNGSLEY
English — and over the place where all the brave
men lay buried grew one great flower-bed of aspho-
del. So they " slept in the meads of asphodel," like
the old Greek heroes in Homer. There were great
" lords and ladies " (arums) there, growing in the bank,
twice as big as ours, and not red, but white and prim-
rose — most beautiful. You cannot think how beau-
tiful the commons are, they are like flower gardens,
golden with furze, and white with potentilla, and
crimson with sweet-smelling Daphne, and blue with
the most wonderful blue flower which grows every-
where. I have dried them all. Tell your darling
mother I am quite well, and will write to her to-
morrow. There, that is all I have to say. Tell
Grenvillc they have made a tunnel under the battle-
field, for the railroad to go into Spain, and that on
the top of the tunnel there is a shaft, and a huge
wheel, to pump air into the tunnel, and that I will
bring home a scarlet Basque cap, and you and Rose
Basque shoes. . . .
Your own Daddy.
This letter Kingsley wrote to his little son Grenville : —
Pau.
My dear little Man, — I was quite delighted to
get a letter from you so nicely written. Yesterday
I went by the railway to a most beautiful place where
LETTERS FROM CHARLES KLNGSLEY 29
I am staying now. A town with an old castle, hun-
dreds of years old, where the great King Henry IV.
of France was born, and his cradle is there still, made
of a huge tortoiseshell. Underneath the castle are
beautiful walks and woods — all green as if it was
summer, and roses and flowers, and birds singing —
but different from our Enghsh birds. But it is quite
summer here because it is so far south. Under the
castle, by the river are frogs that make a noise like a
rattle, and frogs that bark Hke toy-dogs, and frogs
that climb up trees, and even up the window-panes —
they have suckers on their feet and are quite green
like a leaf. Far away, before the castle are the great
mountains, ten thousand feet high, covered with
snow, and the clouds crawling about their tops. I
am going to see them to-morrow, and when I come
back I will tell you. But I have been out to-night,
and all the frogs are croaking still and making a
horrid noise. Mind and be a good boy and give
Nurse my love. There is a vulture here in the inn,
but he is a little Egyptian vulture, not like the great
vulture I saw at Bayonne. Ask mother to show you
his picture in the beginning of the bird book. He is
called Neophra Egyptiacus, and is an ugly fellow, who
eats dead horses and sheep. There is his picture. . . .
Your own daddy,
C. KiNGSLEY.
30 LETTERS FROM CHARLES KINGSLEY
When Kingsley wrote " The Heroes," Grenville was too
young to understand the stories, so he was not included in the
dedication. Some years later, Mrs. Kingsley reminded her
husband of his promise to write a book for each of his children.
"Rose, Maurice, and Mary have their book, and Biby [meaning
Grenville] must have his," she said. In half an hour the first
chapter of the fairy story, " Water Babies," was written.
Charles Kingsley loved the freshness and fragrance of the
riverside, and the story of " The Water Babies " is like a breeze
from the water. Some of us remember the song that the river
sang to Tom the water baby.
"Clear and cool, clear and cool,
By laughing shallow and dreaming pool."
The lines of this song glide and ripple and dance through our
minds so that it is easy to remember them. In the third stanza
the river sings of its broader, swifter course nearer the outlet
into the sea.
" Strong and free, strong and free,
The flood gates are open away to the sea,
Free and strong, free and strong.
Cleansing my streams as I hurry along
To the golden sands and the leaping bar,
And the taintless tide that awaits one afar.
As I lose myself in the infinite main
Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.
Undefiled for the undefiled.
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child."
The story of" The Water Babies " puzzled some children very much.
They supposed it to be a fairy tale, and yet at times these queer
little folk in the water seemed very real. One boy who took the
story seriously determined to find out if water babies really
existed. He was a grandson of Professor Huxley, the great
LETTERS FROM CHARLES KLNGSLEY 3 1
English naturalist, who spent all his life studying about the
animals that live on land and in the sea.
Julian thought that if any one could tell him the truth about
these mysterious creatures, his grandfather could. Then, too,
he had seen a picture of Thomas Huxley examining a bottled
water baby, with a magnifying glass, so he thought he must have
seen one. Evidently Julian forgot what Kingsley said in his
dedication : —
" Come read my riddle, each good little man,
If you cannot read it. no grown up folk can."
He wrote : —
"Dear Grandfather, — Have you seen a water baby }
Did you put it in a bottle .'' Did it wonder if it could
get out .'' Can I see it some day ?
Your loving
Julian."
Julian had just learned to write and could not yet easily read
handwriting, so he was a little anxious about the reply. Thomas
Huxley knew as much about little boys, just learning to read and
write, as he did about other members of Mother Nature's interest-
ing family, and when the answer came it was carefully printed-
My dear Julian, — I never could make sure about
that water baby. I have seen babies in water, and
babies in bottles, but the baby in the water was not
in a bottle, and the baby in the bottle was not in
water.
My friend who wrote the story of the water baby
was a very kind man, and very clever. Perhaps he
32 LETTERS FROM CHARLES KINGSLEY
thought I could see as much in the water as he did.
There are some people who see a great deal and some
who see very little in the same things. When you
grow up I dare say you will be one of the great-deal
seers, and see things more wonderful things than
water babies, when other folks can see nothing.
Ever your loving,
Grandpater.
Helen Keller
and
Her Friends
Surely many children know something of the life of Helen
Keller, the little girl who became deaf, dumb, and blind.
For almost six years she was a very sad child. Then some
one came to her who taught her to be happy. Helen writes of
that time : " The most important day I remember in all my life
is the one on which my teacher, Miss Sullivan, came to me. It
was the third day of May, 1887, three months before I was seven
years old."
Miss Sullivan began at once to spell words into Helen's hand.
The child imitated the signs, but for several weeks she did not
understand that everything had a name. When it finally came
to her mind, and she realized that she could communicate with
people, she was greatly excited. She learned the names of new
objects every day and also the parts of speech, so that in a short
time she could say whole sentences.
Helen was especially interested in writing, and her letters are
not only wonderful as the work of a blind and deaf girl, but they
are good letters, almost from the first.
This letter she wrote to the readers of SL Nicholas magazine,
explaining how she was taught to write : —
To St. Nicholas
Dear St. Nicholas, — It gives me very great pleas-
ure to send you my autograph because I want the
33
34 HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS
boys and girls who read St. Nicholas to know how
blind children write. I suppose some of them wonder
how we keep the lines so straight so I will try to tell
them how it is done. We have a grooved board
which we put between the pages when we wish to
write. The parallel grooves correspond to lines, and
when we have pressed the paper into them by means
of the blunt end of the pencil, it is very easy to keep the
words even. The small letters are all made in the
grooves, while the long ones extend above and below
them. We guide the pencil with the right hand, and
feel carefully with the forefinger of the left hand to
see that we shape and space the letters correctly. It
is very difficult at first to form them plainly, but if we
keep on trying it gradually becomes easier, and after
a great deal of practice we can write legible letters to
our friends. Then we are very, very happy. Some-
time they may visit a school for the blind. If they
do, I am sure they will wish to see the pupils write.
Very sincerely your little friend,
Helen Keller.
Helen made many friends, and among her correspondents we
find the names of well-known people. Sometimes she was taken
to call upon these friends. She describes her first meeting with
Dr. Holmes in this way : —
" I remember well the first time I saw Dr. Oliver Wendell
Holmes. He had invited Miss Sullivan and me to call upon him
HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS 35
one Sunday afternoon. It was early in the spring just after I had
learned to speak. We were shown at once to his library, where
we found him seated in a big arm-chair by an open fire which
glowed and crackled on the hearth, thinking, he said, of other
days. "And listening to the murmur of the River Charles," I
suggested. " Yes," he replied, " the Charles has many dear as-
sociations for me." There was an odor of paint and leather in
the room which told me that it was full of books, and I stretched
out my hands instinctively to find them. My fingers lighted
upon a beautiful volume of Tennyson's poems, and when Miss
Sullivan told me what it was, I began to recite : —
' Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O sea ! '
But I stopped suddenly ; I felt tears on my hand. I had made
my beloved poet weep and I was greatly distressed. He made
me sit in his arm-chair while he brought diflferent interesting
things for me to examine, and at his request I recited 'The
Chambered Nautilus,'' which was then my favorite poem. After
that I saw Dr. Holmes many times and learned to love the man
as well as the poet."
Not long after the call Helen wrote this letter to Dr. Holmes : —
South Boston, Mass.,
March i, 1890.
Dear kind poet, — I have thought of you many times
since that bright Sunday when I bade you good-by ;
and I am going to write you a letter because I love
you. I am sorry that you have no little children to
play with you sometimes ; but I think you are very
happy with your books, and your many, many friends.
36 HELEN KELLER AND HER FRLENDS
On Washington's birthday a great many people came
here to see the blind children ; and I read for them
from your poems, and showed them some beautiful
shells, which came from a little island near Palos.
I am reading a very sad story, called " Little
Jakey." Jakey was the sweetest little fellow you can
imagine, but he was poor and blind. I used to think
— when I was small, and before I could read — that
everybody was always happy, and at first it made me
very sad to know about pain and great sorrow ; but
now I know that we could never learn to be brave
and patient, if there were only joy in the world.
I am studying about insects in zoology, and I have
learned many things about butterflies. They do not
make honey for us, like the bees, but many of them are
as beautiful as the flowers they light upon, and they
always deUght the hearts of little children. They
live a gay life, flitting from flower to flower, sipping
the drops of honeydew, without a thought for the
morrow. They are just like little boys and girls
when they forget books and studies, and run away to
the woods and the fields, to gather wild flowers, or
wade in the ponds for fragrant lilies, happy in the
bright sunshine.
If my little sister comes to Boston next June, will
you let me bring her to see you .-' She is a lovely
baby, and I am sure you will love her.
HELEN KELLER AND ITER FRIENDS 37
Now I must tell my gentle poet good-by, for I
have a letter to write home before I go to bed.
From your loving little friend,
Helen A. Keller.
Here is a letter from Dr. Holmes in reply to one from Helen : —
Beverly Farms, Mass.,
August I, 1890.
My dear little Friend Helen, — I received your
welcome letter several days ago, but I have so much
writing to do that I am apt to make my letters wait
a good while before they get answered.
It gratifies me very much to find that you remem-
ber me so kindly. Your letter is charming, and I
am greatly pleased with it. I rejoice to know that
you are well and happy. I am very much delighted
to hear of your new acquisition — that " you talk with
your mouth " as well as with your fingers. What a
curious thing speech is ! The tongue is so serviceable
a member (taking all sorts of shapes, just as is
wanted), the teeth, lips, the roof of the mouth all
ready to help, and so heap up the sound of the voice
into the solid bits which we call consonants, and
make room for the curiously shaped breathings which
we call vowels ! You have studied all this, I don't
doubt, since you have practised vocal speaking.
I am surprised at the mastery of language which
38 HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS
your letter shows. It almost makes me think the
world would get along as well without seeing and
hearing as with them. Perhaps people would be
better in a great many ways, for they could not
fight as they do now. Just think of an army of
bhnd people, with guns and cannon ! Think of the
poor drummers ! Of what use would they and their
drumsticks be ? You are spared the pain of many
sights and sounds, which you are only too happy in
escaping. Then think how much kindness you are
sure of as long as you live. Everybody will feel an
interest in dear little Helen ; everybody will want to
do something for her ; and if she becomes an ancient,
gray-haired woman, she is still sure of being thought-
fully cared for.
Your parents and friends must take great satisfac-
tion in your progress. It does great credit, not only
to you, but to your instructors, who have so broken
down the walls that seemed to shut you in, that now
your outlook seems more bright and cheerful than
that of many seeing and hearing children.
Good-by, dear little Helen ! With every kind
wish from your friend,
Oliver Wendell Holmes.
The poet Whittier was another of Helen's friends. She writes
of him : —
HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS 39
" One beautiful summer day not long after my
meeting with Dr. Holmes, Miss Sullivan and I visited
Whittier, in his quiet home on the Merrimac. His
gentle courtesy and quaint speech won my heart.
He had a book of his poems in raised print from
which I read, " In School Days." He was delighted
that I could pronounce the words so well and said
that he had no difficulty in understanding me. Then
I asked many questions about the poem and read
his answers by placing my fingers on his lips. He
said he was the little boy in the poem and that
the girl's name was Sally and more which I have
forgotten."
On Whittier's eighty-third birthday he received this letter from
Helen Keller : —
Helen Keller to John Greenleaf Whittier
South Boston,
Dec. 17, 1890.
Dear Kind Poet, — This is your birthday ; that
was the first thought which came into my mind when
I awoke this morning; and it made me glad to think
I could write you a letter and tell you how much
your little friends love their sweet poet and his birth-
day. This evening they are going to entertain their
friends with readings from your poems and music.
40 HELEN KELLER AiXD HER FRLENDS
I hope the swift-winged messengers of love Mall be
here to carry some of the sweet melody to you in
your little study by the Merrimac. At first I was
very sorry when I found that the sun had hidden his
shining face behind dull clouds, but afterwards I
thought why he did it, and then I was happy. The
sun knows that you like to sec the world covered
with beautiful white snow and so he kept back all
his brightness and let the Httle crystals form in the
sky. When they are ready they will softly fall and
tenderly cover every object. Then the sun will
appear in all his radiance and fill the world with
light. If I were with you to-day I would give you
eighty-three kisses, one for each year you have lived.
Eighty-three years seems very long to me. Does it
seem long to you } I wonder how many years there
will be in eternity. I am afraid I cannot think about
so much time. I received the letter which you wrote
to me last summer, and I thank you for it. I am
staying in Boston now at the Institution for the
Blind, but I have not commenced my studies yet
because my dearest friend Mr. Anagnos wants me to
rest and play a great deal.
Teacher is well and sends her kind remembrance
to you. The happy Christmas time is almost here !
I can hardly wait for the fun to begin ! I hope your
Christmas Day will be a very happy one and that
HELEN KELLER AND HER ERLEXDS 4 1
the New Year will be full of brightness and joy for
yon and every one.
From your little friend,
Helen A. Keller.
Whittier must have rejoiced to know tliat his poems gave so
much pleasure at the Institute for the Blind. Perhaps '• Maud
Muller"'' and ''Barbara Frietchie " were among those that the
children recited, at the entertainment Helen describes.
After reading her letter, we do not wonder that the poet
answered it as he did.
My dear Young Friend, — I was very glad to have
such a pleasant letter on my birthday. I had two or
three hundred others and thine was one of the most
welcome of all. I must tell thee about how the day
passed at Oak Knoll. Of course the sun did not
shine, but we had great open wood fires in the
rooms which were all very sweet with roses and other
flowers which were sent to me from distant friends,
and fruits of all kinds from California and other
places. Some relatives and dear old friends were
with me during the day. I do not wonder thee thinks
eighty-three years a long time, but to me it seems but
a very little while since I was a boy no older than
thee, playing on the old farm at Haverhill. I thank
thee for all thy good wishes, and wish thee as many.
I am glad thee is at the Institution ; it is an excellent
42 HELEN KELLER AND HER FR LENDS
place. Give my best regards to Miss Sullivan, and
with a great deal of love, I am,
Thy old friend,
John G. Whittier.
In -' The Story of My Life " Helen Keller tells of her friendship
with Bishop Brooks.
•■ Only those who knew Bishop Brooks can appreciate the joy
his friendship was to those who possessed it. As a child I loved
to sit on his knee and clasp his great hand with one of mine
while Miss Sullivan spelled into the other his beautiful words
about God and the spiritual world. I heard him witli a child's
wonder and delight.""
Here are some letters that these two good friends exchanged :
TuscuMBiA, Alabama, July 14. 1890.
My dear Mr. Brooks, — I am very glad to write to
you this beautiful day because you are my kind friend
and I love you and because I wish to know many
things. I have been at home three weeks, and oh,
how happy I have been with dear mother and father
and precious little sister. I was very, very sad to
part with all of my friends in Bo.ston, but I was so
eager to see my baby sister I could hardly wait for
the train to take me home. But I tried very hard to
be patient for teacher's sake. Mildred has grown
much taller and stronger than she was when I went
to Boston, and she is the sweetest and dearest little
child in the world. My parents were delighted to
HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS 43
hear me speak and I was overjoyed to give them
such a happy surprise. I think it is so pleasant to make
everybody happy. Why does the dear Father in
heaven think it best for us to have great sorrow some-
times } I am always happy, and so was little Lord
Fauntleroy, but dear little Jakey's life was full of sad-
ness. God did not put the light in Jakey's eyes and
he was blind, and his father was not gentle and lov-
ing. Do you think Jakey loved his Father in heaven
more because his other father was unkind to him }
How did God tell people that His home was in heaven?
When people do very wrong and hurt animals and
treat children unkindly God is grieved, but v/hat will
He do to them to teach them to be pitiful and loving ?
I think He will tell them how dearly He loves them,
and that He wants them to be good and happy, and
they will not wish to grieve their father who loves
them so much, and they will want to please Him in
everything they do, so they will love each other and
do good to every one and be kind to animals.
Please tell me something that you know about
God. It makes me happy to know much about my
loving Father who is good and wise. I hope you will
write to your little friend when you have time. I
should like very much to see you to-day. Is the sun
very hot in Boston now } This afternoon, if it is cool
enough, I shall take Mildred for a ride on my donkey.
44 HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS
Mr. Wade sent Neddy to me, and he is the prettiest
donkey you can imagine. My great dog Lioness goes
with us when we ride to protect us. Simpson, that is
my brother, brought me some beautiful pond HUes
yesterday. He is a very good brother to me.
Teacher sends you her kind remembrances and
father and mother also send their regards.
From your loving little friend,
Helen Keller.
Dr. Brooks' Reply
London, August 3. 1890.
My dear Hcleti, — I was very glad indeed to get
your letter. It has followed me across the ocean and
found me in this magnificent great city which I
should like to tell you all about if I could take time
for it and make my letter long enough. Sometime
when you come to see me in my study in Boston I
shall be glad to talk to you about it all if you care to
hear.
But now I want to tell you how glad I am that
you are so happy and enjoying your home so much.
I can almost think I see you with your father and
mother and little sister, with all the brightness of the
beautiful country about you ; and it makes me very
glad to know how glad you are.
HELEN KELLER AND HER FR LENDS 45
I am glad also to know, from the questions which
you ask me, what you are thinking about. I do not
see how we can help thinking about God when He is
so good to us all the time. Let me tell you how
it seems to me that we come to know about our
heavenly Father. It is from the power of love which
is in our own hearts. Love is at the soul of every-
thing. Whatever has not the power of loving must
have a very dreary life indeed. We like to think
that the sunshine and the winds and the trees are
able to love in some way of their own, for it would
make us know that they were happy if we knew that
they could love. And so God who is the greatest
and happiest of all beings is the most loving too. All
the love that is in our hearts comes from Him, as all
the light which is in the flowers comes from the sun.
And the more we love the more near we are to God
and His love.
I told you that I was very happy because of your
happiness. Indeed I am. So are your Father and
Mother and your Teacher and all your friends. But
do you not think that God is happy too, because you
are happy .'' I am sure He is. And He is happier
than any of us, and also because He not merely sees
your happiness as we do, but He also 7nade it. He
gives it to you as the sun gives light and color to the
rose. And we are always most glad of what we not
46 HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS
merely see our friends enjoy, but of what we give
them to enjoy. Are we not ?
But God does not only want us to be happy ; He
wants us to he good. He wants that most of all. He
knows that we can be really happy only when we are
good. A great deal of the trouble that is in the
world is medicine which is very bad to take, but which
it is good to take because it makes us better. We
see how good people may be in great trouble when
we think of Jesus who was the greatest sufferer that
ever lived and yet was the best Being and so, I am
sure, the happiest Being that the world has ever
seen.
I love to tell you about God. But He will tell you
Himself by the love which He will put into your
heart if you ask Him. And Jesus, who is His Son,
but is nearer to Him than all of us His other children,
came into the world on purpose to tell us all about
our Father's love. If you read His words, you will
see how full His heart is of the love of God. " We
know that He loves us," He says. And so He loved
men Himself and though they were very cruel to
Him and at last killed Him, He was willing to die for
them because He loved them so. And Helen, He
loves men still and He loves us and He tells us that
we may love Him.
Aud so love is everything. And if anybody asks
HELEN KELLER AND HER FRIENDS 47
you, or if you ask yourself what God is, answer, "God
is Love." That is the beautiful answer which the
Bible gives.
All this is what you are to think of and to under-
stand more and more as you grow older. Think of it
now, and let it make every blessing brighter because
your dear Father sends it to you.
You will come back to Boston I hope soon after I
do. I shall be there by the middle of September. I
shall want you to tell me all about everything, and
not forget the Donkey.
I send my kind remembrance to your father and
mother, and to your teacher. I wish I could see your
little sister.
Good-by, dear Helen. Do write to me soon again,
directing your letter to Boston.
Your affectionate friend,
Phillips Brooks.
So. Boston, May i, 1891.
My dear Mr. Brooks, — Helen sends you a loving
greeting this bright Mayday. My teacher has just
told me that you have been made a bishop, and that
your friends everywhere are rejoicing because one
whom they love has been greatly honored. I do not
understand very well what a bishop's work is, but I
am sure it must be good and helpful and I am glad
48 HELEN KELLER AND LLER ERTENDS
that my dear friend is brave, and wise, and loving
enough to do it. It is very beautiful to think that
you can tell so many people of the heavenly Father's
tender love for all His children even when they are
not gentle and noble as He wishes them to be. I
hope the glad news which you will tell them will
make their hearts beat fast with joy and love. I hope
too that Bishop Brooks' whole hfe will be as rich in
happiness as the month of May is full of blossoms
and singing birds.
From your loving little friend.
Helen Keller. ^
1 From "The Story of My Life." Copyright, 1902-1903, by Helen
Keller.
Letters to a
Boy Musician
and
His Sister
Mendelssohn, the great musical composer, had a sister whom
he loved dearly. When they were children they studied and
played together and dreamed happy day dreams as children do,
but they cared for music above all else. Their mother began
to give them piano lessons when they were very young, and for
a time there was a pleasant sort of rivalry between the brother
and sister. Soon, however, Fanny fell behind, for, no matter how
hard she tried, she could not play as well as Felix. In a few
months he outgrew his mother's teaching and was sent to study
with a music teacher.
Perhaps some of us think that a little eight-year-old hand is
hardly able to strike an octave on the piano, and yet v/hen Men-
delssohn was that age he played really difficult music, and soon
after his tenth birthday he played at concerts in Berlin and Paris.
How hard the little fellow must have worked to prepare
for these concerts! No wonder that the play hours were often
crowded out of his busy days. Perhaps, though, he found pleas-
ure enough in his music to make up for the loss of fishing,
riding, and other sports that boys love.
Every one who knew the boy seemed ambitious for him.
Once an old music teacher said to him, '• Your ideas must be
as great as that spire,"' pointing to a high church spire. But
no one had greater ambitions for Felix than his father. We
know this to be true from the letters that he wrote. Perhaps
they are a trifle se\'ere, but the boy received so much praise that
no doubt their reproofs kept him from being spoiled.
49
50 TO A BOY MUSICIAN AND HIS SISTER
" You, my dear Felix, must state exactly what kind
of music paper you wish to have ; ruled or not ruled,
and if the former you must say distinctly how it is to
be ruled. When I went into a shop the other day to
buy some I found that I did not know myself what I
wanted to have. Read over your letter before you
send it off, and ascertain whether, if addressed to
yourself, you could fully understand it and could
fully execute the commission contained in it.
Your Father and Friend."
Here is a letter to Felix and Fanny : —
Hamburg, Oct. 29th, 18 17.
Your letters, dear children, have afforded me very
great pleasure. I should write to each of you sepa-
rately if I were not coming home in such a short time
and I hope you will prefer myself to a letter. You,
dear Fanny, have written your first letter very nicely ;
the second, however, was a little hasty. . . .
About you, dear Felix, your mother writes as yet
with satisfaction and I am glad of it and hope to find
a faithful and pleasing diary. Mind my maxim,
" True and obedient." You cannot be anything better
if you follow it, and if not you can be nothing worse.
Your letters have given me pleasure, but in the
second I found some traces of carelessness which I
will point out to you when I come home. You must
TO A BOY MUSICIAN AND HIS SISTER 5 1
endeavor to speak better, then you will also write
better. To see you all again will be a very great
pleasure to me. I send you my love.
This letter is addressed only to Fanny, but is so full of Felix
that we are sure to find it interesting : —
To Fanny, — What you wrote to me about your
musical occupations with reference to and compar-
ison with Felix was both rightly thought and ex-
pressed. Music will perhaps become his profession,
whilst for you it can and must only be an ornament,
never the root of your being and doing. We may
therefore pardon him some ambition and desire to be
acknowledged in a pursuit which appears very im-
portant to him because he feels a vocation for it.
Whilst it does you credit that you have always shown
yourself good and sensible in these matters, and your
very joy at the praise he earns proves that you might
in his place have merited equal approval.
Mother wrote to me the other day that you had
complained of a want of pieces for the exercise of the
third and fourth finger, and that Felix had thereupon
directly composed one for you.
When Mendelssohn was eleven years old he went to Wei-
mar with Professor Zelter to visit at the home of Goethe, the
famous German poet.
The friendship between the old man and the boy musician
which began at this time lasted until the poet's death. He once
52 TO A BOY A'JUSICIAN AND fflS SISTER
wrote to Felix, '' Come to me when I am sad and discouraged
and quiet my soul with thy sweet harmonies."
Mendelssohn had an experience at Weimar that comes to few
people. He was taken to court to play tor royalty ; he was praised
and petted by those who met him. but through it all he kept
a sweet, unspoiled manner.
Weimar, Nov. 6th, 1821.
Now listen, all of you. To-day is Tuesday. On
Sunday the Sun of Weimar, Goethe, arrived. We went
to church in the morning and heard half of Handel's
Music to the lOOth Psalm. The organ though large
is weak; that of St. Mary's Church is smaller but
much more powerful. The Weimar one has fifty
stops, forty-four notes, and one thirty-two foot pipe.
After church I wrote to you that little letter
dated the 4th inst and went to the Elephant Hotel,
where I made a sketch. Two hours later Professor
Zelter came, calling out, " Goethe has come, the old
gentleman has come." We instantly hurried down
stairs and went to Goethe's house. He was in the
garden, just coming round a hedge. He is very kind
but I do not think any of his portraits like him. . . .
He does not look like a man of 73, rather of 50.
After dinner Frriulein Ulrike, Frau von Goethe's
sister, asked him for a kiss and I followed her exam-
ple. Every morning I have a kiss from the author
of "Faust" and " Werther " and every afternoon
two kisses from the father and friend of Goethe.
TO A BOY MUSICIAN AND HIS SISTER 53
Think of that ! In the afternoon I played to Goethe
for about two hours, partly fugues of Bach and partly
hnprovisations. In the evening they arranged a whist
table and Professor Zelter who took a hand, said :
" Whist means that you are to hold your tongue."
There's one of his good expressions for you. Now,
something for you, my dear Fanny ! Yesterday morn-
ing I took your songs to Frau von Goethe, who has
a good voice and will sing them to the old gentleman.
I told him that you had written them and asked him
whether he would like to hear them. He said, " Yes,
yes, with pleasure." Frau von Goethe likes them very
much indeed and that is a good omen. To-day or
to-morrow he is to hear them.
A few days later Mendelssohn wrote : —
Weimar, Nov. loth.
On Thursday morning the Grand Duke and the
Duchess came to us and I had to play. And I
played from eleven in the morning till ten in the
evening, with only two hours' interruption ; every
afternoon Goethe opens his instrument with the
words, "I have not yet heard you to-day — now
make a little noise for me." And then he generally
sits down by my side and when I have done (mostly
extemporizing) I ask for a kiss or I take one. You
cannot fancy how good and kind he is to me.
A DOCUMENr
sent by
R. L. Stei^enson
Some years ago a little girl, who regretted that she had a
Christmas birthday, received word from a friend that he would
give her his birthday, which occurred in November.^ He deeded
the day to her in the form of a will, and asked in return that she
add part of his name to her own.
1 Stevenson's Birthday
Noveml)er 13, 1850.
" How I should like a birthday," said the child,
"I have so few and they are so far apart."
She spoke to Stevenson — the Master smiled,
" Mine is to-day, 1 would with all my heart
That it were yours ; too many years have I,
Too swift they come, and all too swiftly fly."
So by a formal deed he then conveyed
All right and title to his natal day.
To have and hold, to sell or give away —
Then signed and gave it to the little maid.
Joyful yet fearing to believe too much.
She took the deed but scarcely dared unfold.
Ah, Liberal Genius at whose potent touch
All common things shine with transmitted gold,
A day of Stevenson's will prove to be
Not part of time, but Immortality.
— Katherine Miller,
54
A DOCUMENT SENT BY K. L. STEVENSON 55
Her friend was Robert Louis Stevenson, who wrote the book
that many of us love so much, " The Child's Garden of Verses."
I, Robert Louis Stevenson, Advocate of the Scots
Bar, author of " The Master of Ballantrae " and
" Moral Emblems," stuck civil engineer, sole owner
and patentee of the Palace and Plantation known as
Vailina in the island of Upolu, Samoa, a British
Subject, being in sound mind, and pretty well, I thank
you, in body :
In consideration that Miss Annie H. Ide, daughter
of H. C. Ide in the town of Saint Johnsbury, in the
county of Caledonia, in the State of Vermont, United
States of America, was born, out of all reason, upon
Christmas Day, and is therefore out of all justice
denied the consolation and profit of a proper birth-
day;
And considering that I, the said Robert Louis
Stevenson, have attained an age when we never
mention it, and that I have now no further use for a
birthday of any description ;
And in consideration that I have met H. C. Ide,
the father of the said Annie H. Ide, and found him
about as white a land commissioner as I require :
Have transferred, and do hereby transfer, to
the said Annie H. Ide, all and whole my rights and
privileges in the thirteenth day of November, for-
merly my birthday, now, hereby, and henceforth, the
56 A DOCUMENT SENT BY R. L. STEVENSON
birthday of the said Annie H. Ide, to have, hold,
exercise, and enjoy the same in the customary man-
ner, by the sporting of fine raiment, eating of rich
meats, and receipt of gifts, compHments, and copies
of verse, according to the manner of our ancestors ;
Ax\D I DIRECT the said Annie H. Idc to add to the
said name of Annie H. Ide the name Louisa — at
least in private ; and I charge her to use my said
birthday with moderation and humanity, ct ianujuani
bona filia familia, the said birthday not being so
young as it once was, and having carried mc in a very
satisfactory manner since I can remember ;
And in case the said Annie H. Ide shall neglect or
contravene either of the above conditions, I hereby
revoke the donation and transfer my rights in the
said birthday to the President of the United States of
America for the time being :
In witness whereof I have set my hand and seal
this nineteenth day of June in the year of grace
eighteen hundred and ninety-one. (Seal)
Robert Louis Stevenson.
Witness, Lloyd Osbourne.
Witness, Harold Watts.
At that time Stevenson was living on an island in the Pacific
Ocean, and many months passed before he heard from the little
girl. Evidently he liked her letter when it came. Here is his
reply : —
A DOCUMENT SENT BY R. L. STEVENSON S7
To Miss Annie H. Ide
Vailima, Samoa, November, 1891.
My dear Louisa, — Your picture of the church, the
photograph of yourself and your sister, and your very
witty and pleasing letter came all in a bundle and
made me feel I had my money's worth for that
birthday. I am now, I must be, one of your nearest
relatives ; exactly what we are to each other I do
not know. I doubt if the case has ever happened
before — your papa ought to know, and I don't
believe he does ; but I think I ought to call you in
the meanwhile, and until we get the advice of counsel
learned in the law, my name-daughter. Well, I was
extremely pleased to see by the church that my
name-daughter could draw ; by the letter, that she
was no fool ; and by the photograph, that she was a
pretty girl, which hurts nothing. See how virtues
are rewarded ! My first idea of adopting you was
entirely charitable; and here I find that I am quite
proud of it, and of you, and that I chose just the
kind of name-daughter I wanted. For I can draw,
too, or rather I mean to say I could before I forgot
how ; and I am very far from being a fool myself, how-
ever much I may look it ; and I am as beautiful as
the day, or at least I once hoped that perhaps I
might be going to be. And so I might. So that you
5<S A DOCUMENT SENT BY H. L. STEVENSON
sec we are well met, and peers on these important
points. I am very glad, also, that you are older than
your sister ; so should I have been, if I had had one.
So that the number of points and virtues which you
have inherited from your name-father is already quite
surprising.
I wish you would tell your father — not that I Hke
to encourage my rival — that we have had a wonder-
ful time here of late, and that they are having a cold
day on Mulinuu, and the consuls are writing reports,
and I am writing to the Times, and if we don't get
rid of our friends this time I shall begin to despair
of everything but my name-daughter.
You are quite wrong as to the effect of the birth-
day on your age. From the moment the deed was
registered (as it was in the public press, with every
solemnity), the 13th of November became your own
and only birthday, and you ceased to have been
born on Christmas Day. Ask your father ; I am
sure he will tell you this is sound law. You are
thus become a month and twelve days younger than
you were, but will go on growing older for the
future in the regular and human manner, from one
13th November to the next. The effect on me is
more doubtful ; I may, as you suggest, live forever ;
I might, on the other hand, come to pieces, like the
one-horse shay, at a moment's notice ; doubtless the
A DOCUMENT SENT BY A\ L. STEVENSON 59
Step was risky, but I do not the least regret that
which enables me to sign myself your revered and
delighted name-father,
Robert Louis Stevenson.
The foregoing letters are reprinted from " The Letters of Robert
Louis Stevenson," copyright, 1889, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Used
by permission.
An English Poet
to
His Children
At the beginning of the nineteenth century there lived in Cum-
berland, England, a group of poets, who were known as the " Lake
Poets," from the fact that they lived in a part of England which
is famed for its beautiful lakes. Their names were Southey, Cole-
ridge, and Wordsworth.
Southey and Coleridge were fast friends, and when misfortunes
came to the latter, Southey showed his love for his friend by
taking the Coleridge children to his home and supporting
them.
Under the same roof with all these happy boys and girls lived
a large colony of cats, for Southey dearly loved animals. He
once wrote a book called " The History of the Cattery of Cat's
Eden."
The poet received many honors during his life. He was
chosen by the king to be Poet Laureate^ in 1813, and a few
years later Oxford University honored him.
* Laureate means crowned with laurel. The " Poet Laureate " of
England is the king's poet. He is expected to write poems for special
occasions, such as a victory in battle, or upon the birth or death of a
member of the royal family. The name was given because at one time
the poet laureate was publicly crowned with laurel by his ruler.
A wreath of laurel has always been considered a badge of honor.
In the old Greek athletic contests, instead of receiving a prize, the
victors were crowned with it.
60
AN ENGLISH POET TO HIS CHILDREN 6 1
At that time he wrote this letter to his httle girls : —
June 26, 1830.
Bertha, Kate, and Isabel, you have been very good
girls and have written me very nice letters with which
I was much pleased. This is the last letter which I
can write in return ; and as I happen to have a quiet
hour to myself here at Streatham on Monday noon,
I will employ that hour in relating to you the whole
history and manner of my being ell-ell-deed at Oxford,
by the Vice Chancellor.
You must know then that because I had written a
great many good books and more especially the " Life
of Wesley," it was made known to me by the Vice
Chancellor that the University of Oxford was desirous
of showing me the only mark of honor in their power
to bestow, which was that of making me an LL.D.,
that is to say, a doctor of laws. Now, you are to
know that some persons are ell-ell-deed every year
at Oxford at the great annual meeting which is called
the Commemoration.
^ ^ % ^ % ^
The ceremony of ell-ell-deeing is performed in a
large circular building called a theater, of which I
will show you a print when I return, and this theater
is filled with people. . . . When the theater is full,
the Vice Chancellor and the heads of houses and the
62 AN ENGLISH POET TO HIS CHILDREN
doctors enter; those persons who are to be ell-ell-deed
remain without in the divinity schools, in their robes,
till the convocation have signified their assent to the
ell-ell-deeing and then they are led into the theater
one after the other, in a line into the middle of the
area, the people just making a lane for them. The
Professor of Civil Law, Dr. Phillimore, went before
and made a long speech in Latin telling the Vice
Chancellor and the doctors what excellent persons
we were who were now to be ell-ell-deed. Then he
took us one by one by the hand, and presented each
in his turn, pronouncing his name aloud, saying who
and what he was, and calling him many laudatory
names ending in issimus. The audience then cheered
loudly to show their approbation of the person ; the
Vice Chancellor stood up and repeating the first
words in issiine ell-ell-deed him ; the beadles lifted
up the bar of separation and the new-made doctor
went up the steps and took his seat.
Oh, Bertha, Kate, and Isabel, if you had seen me
that day ! I was like other issintcs dressed in a great
robe of the finest scarlet cloth with sleeves of rose-
colored silk and I had in my hand a black velvet cap
like a beef-eater, for the use of which dress I paid
one guinea for that day. . . .
Little girls, you know it might be proper for me
now, to wear a large wig and to be called Doctor
AN ENGLISH POET TO HIS CHILDREN 63
Southey and to become very severe and to leave off
being a comical papa. And if you should find that
ell-ell-deeing has made this difference in me you will
not be surprised. However, I shall not come down
in a wig neither shall I wear my robes at home.
God bless you all !
Your affectionate father,
R. Southey.
Sometimes Southey wrote verses for his children. One of his
most famous poems, "The Cataract of Lodore,"' with its wonder-
ful description of moving water, was written for them. The first
few lines tell us this.
" How does the water
Come down at Lodore.-*
My little boy asked me
Thus once on a time.
And moreover he asked me
To tell him in rhyme.
Anon at the word.
Then first came one daughter,
And then came another.
To second and third
The request of their Brother,
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore.
So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store."
64 AN ENGLISH POET TO HIS CHILDREN
No doubt Cuthbert, to whom this letter is addressed, was "the
little boy " mentioned in the poem.
Levden, July 2, 1825.
My dear Ctithbert, — I have a present for you from
Lodowijk William Bilderdijk, a very nice good boy
who is the age of your sister Isabel. It is a book
of Dutch verses which you and I will read together
when I come home. When he was a little boy and
was learning to write, his father, who is very much
such a father as I am, made little verses for him to
write in his copy book; so much that leave was asked
to print them. . . . Lodowijk will write his name
and yours in the book. He is a very gentle good
boy and I hope that one of these days somewhere or
other he and you may meet.
I must tell you about his stork. You should know
that there are a great many storks in this country and
that it is thought a very wicked thing to hurt them.
They make their nests, which are as large as a great
clothes basket, upon the houses and churches, and
frequently, when a house or church is built, a wooden
frame is made on the top for the storks to build in.
Out of one of these nests a young stork had fallen
and somebody wishing to keep him in a garden cut
one of his wings. The stork tried to fly, but fell in
Mr. Bilderdijk's garden and was found there one
morning almost dead ; his legs and his bill had lost
AN ENGLISH POET TO HIS CHILDREN 65
their color and were grown pale, and he would have
died if Mrs. Bilderdijk, who is kind to everybody and
everything, had not taken care of him. . . . She
gave him food and he recovered. The first night
they put him in sort of a summerhouse in the gar-
den, which I cannot describe to you for I have not
been there myself ; the second night he walked to
the door himself that it might be opened to him. He
was very fond of Lodowijk and Lodowijk was as fond
of his "oyevaar" (which is the name for stork in
Dutch, though I am not sure that I have spelled it
right) and they used to play together in such a man-
ner that his father says it was a pleasure to see them ;
for a stork is a large bird, tall and upright, almost as
tall as you are or quite. The oyevaar was a bad gar-
dener ; he ate snails, but with his great broad foot
he did a great deal of mischief, and destroyed all the
strawberries and many of the vegetables. But Mr.
and Mrs. Bilderdijk did not mind this because the
oyevaar loved Lodowijk and therefore they loved the
oyevaar, and sometimes they used to send a mile out
of town to buy eels for him when none could be had
in Leyden.
The very day I came to the house, the stork flew
away. His wings were grown and no doubt he
thought it time to get a wife and settle in life.
Lodowijk saw him rise up in the air and fly away.
66 AN ENGLISH POET TO HIS CHILDREN
Lodowijk was very sorry. Not only because he
loved the oyevaar, but because he was afraid the
oyevaar would not be able to get his own living and
therefore would be starved. On the second evening,
however, the stork came again and pitched upon a
wall near. It was in the twilight and the storks can-
not see at all when it is dusk ; but whenever Lodo-
wijk called Oye! Oye ! (which was the way he used
to call him ) the oyevaar turned his head toward the
sound ; he did not come into the garden. Some fish
was placed there for him, but in the morning he was
gone and had not eaten it ; so we suppose that he is
married and living very happily with his mate and
that now and then he will come and visit the old
friends who were so good to him.
... I hope you have been a good boy and done
everything that you ought to do while I am away.
. . . My love to your sisters and to everybody else.
I hope Kumpelstilzchen has recovered his health and
that Miss Cat is well, and I should Hke to know
whether Miss Fitzrumpel has been given away and
if there is another kitten. The Dutch cats do not
speak exactly the same language as the English ones.
I will tell you how they talk when I come home.
God bless you, my dear Cuthbert.
Your dutiful father,
Robert Southey.
Letters
to
A Little Scotch Girl
When Sir Walter Scott was a boy he was not very strong, and
the doctors advised his parents to send him to live on a farm in
the country. He spent his days in the care of a shepherd, wan-
dering over the hillsides with the sheep. Sometimes he slept
out under the stars, wrapped in a sheepskin. The farm was in a
part of England that is full of legends, and the boy was fasci-
nated with what he heard and read of the battles and events
which had occurred there. From a hill on the farm he could
point to forty-three places, famous in war and verse. Often after
listening to some exciting tale, he would make armies of sticks
and stones and reproduce the whole scene. He little knew that
all the while he was gathering the material for the books that he
would write.
Scott never lost his fondness for outdoor life. Of course
when he became a writer he spent most of his time at his desk,
but when the day's work was over he was like a schoolboy in his
deliglit to be out of doors. Sometimes he worked in the garden
with his children ; sometimes he took long tramps in the country
with his dogs for company. He loved all dumb animals, but dogs
were his special pets. '' Maida," " Camp," " Percy," were the
names of some of his favorites. He put up a monument to
*'■ Maida," when she died, and several artists who painted Scott's
portrait put " Camp " in the picture.
He often referred to the pets in his letters, showing that they
were a real part of the family life. Once he wrote : " Dogs are
67
68 LETTERS TO A LITTLE SCOTCH GIRL
well ; cat sick, supposed with eating birds in their feathers."
Again, he said : '' Dogs and cats are well. I dare say you have
heard from some other correspondent that poor Lady Wallace [a
pony] died of an inflammatory attack after a two days' illness."
Scott did not write many letters to his children when they
were young, for he was seldom away from home. However, we
have found two or three, which tell of the simple, everyday life
at Abbotsford.i
Mertoun House, 19th April, 1812.
My dear Sophia, — Mamma and I got your letter
and are happy to think that our little people are all
well and happy.
In Lord Hailes' Annals you will find a good deal
about Melrose Abbey, which you must fix in your
recollection as we are now going to live near it. It
was founded by David the First, one of the best of
our Scottish kings.
We have had very cold weather here indeed, but
to-day it is more favorable. The snow and frost
have prevented things getting on at Abbotsford so
well as I could wish, but a great deal has been done.
1 So named for the land formerly belonged to the abbots of Mel-
rose, the abbey near Scott's home.
The house and grounds to-day are very much as they were when
Sir Walter lived there. In the garden is the sun-dial on which he
carved the words, " I will work while it is day." Under the study
window is a life-size stone dog, the monument to " Maida," with these
words on the base, " Maida, Maida, thou sleepest under the marble
image of Maida."
LETTERS TO A LITTLE SCOTCH GIRL 69
I expect to find that Walter has plied his lessons
hard and given satisfaction to Mr. Brown, and Ann
and Charles are, I dare say, both very good children.
You must kiss them all for me and pat up Httle Wal-
lace [a dog]. Finette [a beautiful setter with soft
silken hair] has been lame but she is now quite well.
I think we shall be at home on Thursday or Friday,
so the cook can have something ready for us, a beef
steak or mutton chop, in case we are past your dinner
hour.
Tell Walter I will not forget his great cannon and
believe me, my dear Sophia,
Your affectionate papa,
Walter Scott.
Abbotsford, 3rd May, 1813.
(very like the 3rd March, in temperature)
My dear Sophia, — ... I am very sorry to say
that poor Cuddy is no more. He lost the use of his
hind legs, so we were obliged to have him shot out of
humanity. This will vex little Ann, but as the animal
could never have been of the least use to her, she has
the less reason to regret his untimely death, and I will
study to give her something that she will like as well,
to make amends, namely a most beautiful peacock
and peahen, so tame that they come to the porch and
70 LETTERS TO A LITTLE SCOTCH GIRL
eat out of the children's hands. They were a present
. . . but I will give them to little Ann to make
amends for this family loss of the donkey.
******
I assure you the gardens are well looked after but we
want a little rain sadly. The Russians have taken
Dantzick and you have escaped reading some very
cramp gazettes and consequently a good deal of
yawning. . . .
I am always your affectionate papa,
Walter Scott.
After many happy years at Abbotsford, Scott went to Edin-
burgh to live. It was there that he met Marjorie Fleming ; the
little girl he loved so dearly and called •• his bonnie wee croodlin'
doo."
When he was tired and not in the humor for work, he would
call his dog, and together they would go to get Marjorie for an
hour's play. If the day was cold or stormy, the journey was a
delight to the child, for Sir Walter carried her as the shepherds
carry the little lambs, — in the great pocket at the side of his
'' plaidee.''
Marjorie was unusually bright, and lier active brain soon wore
out her frail body. She lived to be only seven years old.
When she was five, she was " old, so old she could write a
letter." Here it is, written to her sister Isabella : —
My dear Isa, — I now sit down to answer all your
kind and beloved letters which you was so good as
to write me. This is the first time I ever wrote a
LETTERS TO A LITTLE SCOTCH GIRL yi
letter in my life. There are a great many girls in
the square and they cry just like a pig when we are
under the painful necessity of putting it to Death.
Miss Potum, a Lady of my acquaintance praises me
dreadfully. I repeated something out of Dean Swift,
and she said I was fit for the stage, and you may
think I was primmed up with majestick pride but
upon my word I felt myself turn a little birsay, — bir-
say is a word that William composed, which is as you
may suppose a little enraged. This horrid fat simple-
ton says that my Aunt is beautiful, which is entirely
impossible, for that is not her nature.
Majorie writes, at another time : —
" I am now going to tell you the horrible and
wretched pleague that my multiplication gives me
you can't conceive it, the most Devilish thing is 8
times 8 and 7 times 7 it is what nature itself can't
endure."
Isabella, remembering Majorie's struggles with the multipli-
cation table, wrote and asked : —
" How is the dear multiplication table going on ^
Are you still as much attached to 9 times 9 as you
used to be ? "
The following letter was written two years later : —
My dear Little Mama, — I was truly happy to hear
that you were all well. We are surrounded with
72 LETTERS TO A LITTLE SCOTCH GIRL
measles on every side. ... I have begun dancing,
but am not very fond of it for the boys strike and
mock me.
I will write you as often as I can, but I am afraid
not every week. I long for you, with the feeling of
a child to embrace you, to fold you in my arms. I
respect you with all the respect due to a mother.
You don't know how I love you, so I shall remain
your loving child,
M. Fleming.
A month later she wrote this letter and it was her last, for she
died soon after : —
My dear Mother, — You will think that I entirely
forget you but I assure you that you are greatly mis-
taken. I think of you always and often sigh to think
of the distance between us two loving creatures of
nature.
We have regular hours for all our occupations first
at seven o'clock we go to the dancing and come home
at eight we then read our Bible and get our repeat-
ing and then play till ten, then we get our music till
II, when we get our writing and accounts, we sew
from 12 to I after which I get my grammer and then
work till five.
At seven we come and knit till 8 when we don't go
to the dancing. This is an exact description. I must
LETTERS TO A LITTLE SCOTCH GLRL 73
take a hasty farewell to her whom I love, reverence,
and doat on and who I hope thinks the same of
Majorie Fleming.
P.S. — An old pack of cards would be very except-
ible.
A Budget of Letteiis
from
Thomas Hood
Some one has said, " Letters give wings to thoughts of absent
ones." If peojole wrote only happy thoughts, perhaps the mail
bags would be lighter. As it is they are often heavy, for they
carry so many letters full of sighs.
Very little sadness, however, was to be found in the letters that
Thomas Hood wrote to his friends, young or old. Sometimes his
poems were sad, but his letters were like pure sunshine.
Hood was always a busy man and often a sick man. What he
suffered of pain or disappointment no one ever knew, for he never
let it go outside his study door.
His home was a happy place and a playground for many of the
children in the neighborhood. He made friends with the play-
mates of his own boy and girl, Tom and Fanny, and welcomed
them to his house.
His special favorites, however, were the children of his friend
and physician. Dr. Elliott. One summer he wrote them these
letters. Who would dream that the letters were written by a man
who was ill and suffering.
Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road, St. John's Wood,
July 1st (ist of Hebrew falsity).
My dear Dumtie, — I have heard of your doings at
Sandgate, and that you were so happy at getting to
the sea, that you were obliged to be flogged a little
74
BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD 75
to moderate it and keep some for next day. I am
very fond of the sea, too, though I have been twice
nearly drowned by it ; once in a storm in a ship and
once under a boat's bottom when I was bathing. Of
course you have bathed, but have you learned to swim
yet ? It is rather easy in salt water and diving is still
easier, even than at the sink. I only swim in fancy
and strike out new ideas.
Is not the tide curious ? Though I cannot say
much for its tidiness ; it makes such a slop and litter
on the beach. It comes and goes as regularly as the
boys of a proprietary school, but has no holidays.
And what a rattle the waves make with the stones
when they are rough ; you will find some rolled into
decent marbles and bounces ; sometimes you may
hear the sound of a heavy sea at a distance, like a
giant snoring. Some people say that every ninth wave
is bigger than the rest. I have often counted but never
found it come true, except with tailors, of whom every
ninth is a man. But in rough weather there are giant
waves, bigger than the rest, that come in trios, from
which I suppose Britannia rules the waves by the rule
of three. When I was a boy, I loved to play with the
sea in spite of its sometimes getting rather rough. I
and my brother chucked hundreds of stones into it as
you do ; but we came away before we could fill it up.
In those days we were at war with France. Unluckily,
-Jfb BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD
it's peace now, or with so many stones you might
have good fun for days in pelting the enemy's coast.
Once I almost thought I nearly hit Boney. Then
there was looking for an island like Robinson Crusoe.
Have you ever found one yet surrounded by water .''
I remember once staying on the beach when the tide
was flowing till I was a peninsula and only by run-
ning turned myself into a continent.
Then there's fishing at the seaside. I used to catch
flatfish with a very long string line. It was like
swimming a kite. But perhaps there are no flatfish
at Sandgate — except your shoe-soles. The best plan,
if you want flatfish where there are none, is to bring
codlings and hammer them into dabs. Once I caught
a plaice, and seeing it all over red spots, thought I
had caught the measles.
Do you ever long when you are looking at the sea
for a voyage .-• If I were off Sandgate with my yacht
(only she is not yet built), I would give you a cruise
in her. In the meantime you can practice sailing any
little boat you can get. But mind that it does not
flounder or get swamped, as some people say, instead
of " founder " and " swamp." I have been swamped
myself by malaria, and almost foundered, which re-
minds me that Tom junior, being very ingenious, has
made a cork model of a diving bell that won't sink.
By this time, I suppose, you are become, instead
BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD yj
of a land boy, a regular sea urchin ; and so amphibious
that you can walk on the land as well as on the water
— or better. And don't you mean, when you grow up,
to go to sea ? Should you not like to be a little mid-
shipman ? or half a quartermaster, with a cocked hat
and a dirk, that will be a sword by the time you are a
man ? If you do resolve to be a post-captain, let me
know ; and I will endeavor through my interest with
the Commissioners of Pavements, to get you a post
to jump over of the proper height. Tom is just
rigging a boat, so I suppose that he inclines to be
an Admiral of the Marines. But before you decide,
remember the portholes, and that there are great
guns in those battle doors that will blow you into
shuttlecocks, which is a worse game than whoop
and hide — as to a good hiding.
And so farewell, young " Old Fellow," and take
care of yourself so near the sea, for in some places
they say it has not even a bottom to go to if you fall
in. And remember when you are bathing, if you
meet with a shark, the best way is to bite off his legs,
if you can, before he walks off with yours. And, so,
hoping you will be better soon, for somebody told me
you had the shingles,
I am, my dear Dunnie,
Your affectionate friend,
Thomas Hood.
78 BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD
P.S. — I have heard that at Sandgate there used to
be /^^sters ; but some ignorant fairy turned them all
by a spell into <^^/sters.
Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road,
July I, 1844.
My dear May, — How do you do, and how do you
like the sea ? not much perhaps, it's " so big."
But shouldn't you like a nice little ocean, that you
could put in a pan ? Yet the sea, although it looks
rather ugly at first, is very useful, and if I were
near it this dry summer, I would carry it all home,
to water the garden with at Stratford, and it would
be sure to drown all the blights, J/^rj'flies and all.
I remember that, when I saw the sea it used
sometimes to be very fussy, and fidgety, and did
not always wash itself quite clean ; but it was very
fond of fun. Have the waves ever run after you
yet, and turned your little two shoes into pumps,
full of water .-'
* * * *■ * *
There are no flowers, I suppose, on the beach,
or I would ask you to bring me a bouquet, as you
used at Stratford. But there are little crabs ! If
you would catch one for me, and teach it to dance
the Polka, it would make me quite happy ; for I
have not had any toys or playthings for a long
BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD 79
time. Did you ever try, like a little crab, to run
two ways at once ? See if you can do it, for it is
good fun ; never mind tumbling over yourself a little
at first. It would be a good plan to hire a little
crab, for an hour a day, to teach baby to crawl,
if he can't walk, and if I was his mamma, I ivoiild
too ! Bless him ! But I must not write on him
any more — he is so soft, and I have nothing but
steel pens.
And now good-by, Fanny has made my tea and
I must drink it before it gets too hot, as we all
were last Sunday week. They say the glass was
%?> in the shade, which is a great age ! The last
fair breeze I blew dozens of kisses for you, but the
wind changed, and I am afraid took them all to
Miss H or somebody that it shouldn't. Give
my love to everybody and my compliments to all
the rest, and remember, I am, my dear May,
Your loving friend,
Thomas Hood.
PS. — Don't forget my little crab to dance the
polka, and pray write to me as soon as you can if
it's only a line.
So BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD
Devonshire Lodge, New Finchley Road,
July I, 1844.
My Dear Jeanie, — So you are at Sandgate ! Of
course, wishing for your old playfellow, M
H , (he can play, it's work to me) to help you
to make little puddles in the sand and swing on
the gate. But perhaps there are no sand and gate
at Sandgate, which, in that case, nominally tells us
a fib. But there must be little crabs somewhere
which you can catch if you are nimble enough, so
like spiders I wonder they do not make webs. The
large crabs are scarcer.
If you do catch a big one with long claws — and
like experiments — you can shut him up in a cup-
board with a loaf of sugar, and you can see whether
he will break it up with his nippers. Besides crabs,
I used to find jellyfish on the beach, made, it seemed
to me, of sea calves' feet, and no sherry.
* *■*•** *
I suppose you never gather any sea flowers but
only seaweeds. The truth is Mr. David Jones never
rises from his bed, and so has a garden full of weeds,
like Dr. Watts's Sluggard.
******
I have heard that you bathe in the sea, which is
very refreshing, but it requires care ; for if you stay
BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD 8 1
under water too long, you may come up a mermaid,
who is only half a lady, with a fish's tail, — which
she can boil if she Hkes. You had better try this
with your doll, whether it turns her into half a " doll-
fin."
I hope you like the sea. I always did when I was
a child, which was about two years ago. Sometimes
it makes such a fizzing and foaming, I wonder some
of our London cheats do not bottle it up, and sell it
for ginger-pop.
When the sea is not too rough, if you pour the
sweet oil out of the cruet all over it, and wait for a
calm, it will be quite smooth, — much smoother than
a dressed salad.
Some time ago exactly, there used to be about the
part of the coast where you are, large white birds
with black-tipped wings, that went flying and scream-
ing over the sea and now and then plunged down
into the water after a fish. Perhaps they catch their
sprats now with nets or hooks and lines. Do you
ever see such birds .-• We used to call them " gulls,"
— but they didn't mind it ! Do you ever see any
boats or vessels ? And don't you wish, when you see
a ship, that Somebody was a sea captain instead of a
Doctor, that he might bring you home a pet lion, or
calf elephant, ever so many parrots, or a monkey,
from foreign parts } I knew a little girl who was
82 BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD
promised a baby whale by her sailor brother, and
who blubbered because he did not bring it. I suppose
there are no whales at Sandgate, but you might find
a seal about the beach ; or at least, a stone for one.
The sea stones are not pretty when they are dry, but
look beautiful when they are wet, — and we can
always keep sucking them !
If you can find one, pray pick me up a pebble for
a seal. I prefer the red sort, like Mrs. Jenkin's
brooch and earrings, which she calls " red chame-
lion." Well, how happy you must be ! Childhood
is such a joyous merry time ; and I often wish I was
two or three children ! But I suppose I can't be ;
or else I would be Jeanie, and May, and Dunnie
Elliott. And wouldn't I pull off my three pairs of
shoes and socks and go paddling in the sea up to my
six knees ! And oh ! how I could climb up the
downs and roll down the ups on my three backs
and stomachs ! Capital sport, only it wears out the
woolens. Which reminds me of the sheep on the
downs, and little May, so innocent, I daresay she
often crawls about on all fours and tries to eat grass
like a lamb. Grass isn't nasty ; at least, not very,
if you take care while you are browsing not to
chump up the dandelions. They are large yellow
star-flowers, and often grow about dairy farms, but
give very bad milk !
BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD 83
When I can buy a telescope powerful enough, I
shall have a peep at you. I am told with a good
glass, you can see the sea at such a distance that the
sea cannot see you! Now I must say good-by, for
my paper gets short, but not stouter. Pray give my
love to your Ma, and my compliments to Mrs.
H and no mistake, and remember me, my dear
Jeanie, as your
Affectionate friend,
Thos. Hood.
The other Tom Hood sends his love to every-
body and everything.
P.S. — Don't forget my pebble : — and a good
naughty- lass would be esteemed a curiosity.
A short time before Hood wrote this letter to May, they had
been to a picnic together ; while walking hand in hand they
stumbled and rolled down a steep bank and into some furze
bushes at the bottom.
17, Elm Tree Road. St. John's Wood,
Monday, April. 1844.
My dear May, — I promised you a letter and here
it is. I was sure to remember it ; for you are as hard
to forget as you are soft to roll down a hill with.
What fun it was ! only so prickly, I thought I had a
porcupine in one pocket and a hedgehog in the other.
84 BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD
The next time, before we kiss the earth, we will have
its face well shaved. Did you ever go to Greenwich
Fair ? I should Uke to go there with you, for I get
no rolling at St. John's Wood. Tom and Fanny only
like roll and butter, and as for Mrs. Hood, she is for
rolling in money.
Tell Dunnie that Tom has set his trap in the bal-
cony and has caught a cold and tell Jeanie that
Fanny has set her foot in the garden, but it has not
come up yet. Oh, how I wish it was the season
when " March winds and April showers bring forth
May flowers ! " for then of course you would give me
another pretty httle nosegay. Besides, it is frosty
and foggy weather, which I do not like. The other
night, when I came from Stratford, the cold shriveled
me up so, that when I got home, I thought I was my
own child !
However, I hope we shall all have a merry Christ-
mas ; I mean to come in my most ticklesome waist-
coat, and to laugh till I grow fat or at least streaky.
Fanny is to be allowed a glass of wine, Tom's mouth
is to have a Jiolc holiday, and Mrs. Hood is to sit
up for supper ! There will be doings ! And then such
good things to eat ; but pray, pray, pray, mind they
don't boil the baby by mistake for a plump pudding,
instead of a plum one.
Give my love to everybody, from yourself down to
BUDGET OF LETTERS FROM THOMAS HOOD 85
Willy,^ with which and a kiss, I remain up hill and
down dale,
Your affectionate lover,
Thomas Hood.
1 " Willy," at that writing, being very tall for his age, and May, his
youngest sister, mo/ very tall for her age, — T. II.
CH/fRLEs Dickens
to
His LnTLE Friends
One day Charles Dickens received from a little boy a letter
inclosing a sketch of Fanny Squeers. The boy had been so
interested in the story of Nicholas Nickleby that the characters
of Smike, Mrs. Squeers, Fanny, and the rest seemed to be really
alive. He hated Fanny, and in the spirit of revenge drew an
ugly picture of her.
It evidently pleased Dickens to have the little fellow feel so
strongly, for he wrote Master Humphrey Hughes this letter : ^ —
London, December 12, 1838.
Respected Sir, — ... Fanny Squeers shall be at-
tended to, depend upon it. Your drawing of her is
very like, except that I don't think the hair is quite
curly enough. The nose is particularly like hers,
and so are the legs. She is a nasty disagreeable
thing and I know it will make her very cross when
she sees it, and what I say is that I hope it may.
You will say the same I know — at least I think you
will.
' These letters are reprinted from " The Letters of ("harles Dickens,
1833-1S70," by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company.
86
CHARLES DICKENS TO HIS LITTLE FRIENDS 8/
I meant to have written you a long letter but I
cannot write very fast when I like the person I am
writing to, because that makes me think about them
and I like you, and so I tell you. Besides, it is just
eight o'clock at night and I always go to bed at eight
o'clock except when it is my birthday, and then I sit
up to supper, so I will not say anything more besides
this, and that is my love to you and Neptune, and if
you will drink my health every Christmas Day, I will
drink yours.
I am, respected Sir,
Your affectionate friend,
Charles Dickens.
P.S. I don't write my name very plain but you
know what it is, you know, so never mind.
What good times Dickens' children must have had at Gad's
Hill ! We can believe that a lively set of boys and girls played
there, summer after summer, and Dickens himself was the leader
in all the fun. No wonder that they called him •' The Inimitable."
We hope that the little sick girl to whom he wrote this letter
was soon able to " obey the commands " and join her playmates
in the country : —
Tavistock House, Tavistock Square, London, W. C.
Monday, April i8, 1859.
My dear Lotty, — This is merely a notice to you
that I must positively insist on your getting well,
strong and into good spirits with the least possible
88 CHARLES DICKENS TO HIS LITTLE FRIENDS
delay. Also that I look forward to seeing you at
Gad's Hill sometime in the summer, staying with the
girls and heartlessly putting down Plorn.^ You know
that there is no appeal from the Plorn"b '^^imitable
Father. What he says must be done. Therefoie I
send you my love (which please take care of) and my
commands (which please obey).
Ever your affectionate
Charles Dickens.
Although this extract from one of Dickens' letters was not
written to a child it was written about a child, and so may interest
children : —
Here follows a dialogue (but it requires imitation)
which I had yesterday morning with a little boy of
the house; landlord's son, I suppose about Plorn's
age. I am sitting on the sofa, writing, and lind him
sitting beside me.
Inimitable. Halloa, old chap.
Young Ireland. Hal-loo !
/;/. (In his deUghtful way) What a nice old fellow
you arc. I am very fond of little boys.
Y. I. Air yer } Ye'r right.
In. What do you learn, old fellow.?
F. /. (Very intent on Inimitable and always child-
ish except in his brogue) I lairn wureds of three silli-
^ A nickname for Dickens' son.
CHARLES DICKENS TO HIS LITTLE FRIENDS 89
bils and wureds of two sillibils and wureds of one
sillibil.
In. (gayly) Get out you humbug, you learn words
of only one syllable.
Y. L (laughs heartily) You may say that it is
mostly wureds of one sillibil.
In. Can you write .''
Y. I. Not yet. Things comes by deegrays.
In. Can you cipher .''
Y. I. (very quickly) Wh'at's that .''
/;/. Can you make figures .-'
Y. I. I can make a nought, which is not asy, being
roond.
In. I say, old chap, wasn't it you I saw on Sunday
morning in the hall wearing a Soldier's Cap ? You
know, in a Soldier's Cap ?
Y. I. Was it a very good cap }
In. Yes.
Y. I. Did it fit unkommon }
In. Yes.
Y. I. Dat was me !
The following letters were written to children who invited
Dickens to their birthday parties : —
Devonshire Terrace, Dec. i6th, 1841.
My dear Mary, — I should be dehghted to come
and dine with you on your birthday and to be as
90 CHARLES DICKENS TO HIS LITTLE FRIENDS
merry as I wish you to be always, but as I am going
within a few days afterwards a very long distance
from home and shall not see any of my children for
six long months, I have made up my mind to pass
all that week at home for their sakes, just as you
would like your papa and mamma to spend all the
time they possibly could spare with you if they were
about to make a dreary voyage to America, which is
what I am going to do myself.
But although I cannot come to see you that day,
you may be sure I shall not forget that it is your
birthday and that I shall drink your health and many
happy returns in a glass of wine filled as full as it
will hold. And I shall dine at half past five myself
so that we may both be drinking our wine at the
same time; and I shall tell my Mary (for I have got
a daughter of that name but she is a very small one
as yet) to drink your health too ; and we shall try
and make believe that you are here, or that we are
in Russel Square which is the best thing we can
do, I think, under the circumstances.
You are growing up so fast that by the time I
come home again I expect you will be almost a woman,
and in a very few years we shall be saying to each
other, " Don't you remember what the birthdays used
to be in Russel Square ? " and " how strange it seems "
and " how quickly time passes," and that sort of thing
CHARLES DICKENS TO HIS LITTLE FRIENDS 9 1
you know. But I shall be always very glad to be
asked on your birthday and to come if you will let
mc and to send my love to you and to wish that you
may live to be very old and very happy, which I do
now with all my heart.
Believe me always,
My dear Mary,
Yours affectionately,
Charles Dickens.
Gad's Hill, Higham by Rochester, Kent,
Monday, June 18, 1866.
My dear Lily, — I am sorry that I cannot come to
read to you " The Boots at the Holly Tree Inn " as
you ask me to do, but the truth is that I am tired of
reading at this present time and have come into the
country to rest and hear the birds sing. There are a
good many birds I dare say in the Kensington Pal-
ace Gardens, and upon my word and honor they are
much better worth listening to than I am, so let them
sing for you as hard as ever they can, while their
sweet voices last (they will be silent when winter
comes) and very likely after you and I have eaten
our next Christmas pudding and mince pies, you and
I and Uncle Harry may all meet together at St. James
Hall. Uncle Harry to bring you there to hear the
" Boots," I to receive you there and read the " Boots "
92 CHARLES DICKENS TO HIS LITTLE FRIENDS
and you (I hope) to applaud very much and tell me
that you like " Boots." So God bless you and me
and Uncle Harry and the " Boots " and long life
and happiness to us all !
Your affectionate friend,
p. S. There's a flourish !
The Duke of Suffolk
to
His Six-year-old Son
Here is a letter dated " 1450, 28 H. VI."
In those days it was the custom in England to include in the date
the name of the king and the year of his reign, so we translate it
to mean the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VI. Eng-
land, at that time, had met with many losses, and the Duke of
Suffolk, a man in high position in the kingdom, was blamed for
all the trouble. Some of his enemies said that he had schemed
to make his son king, and he was called a traitor.
In order to protect him from an angry mob, the king banished
him from the country. Just before leaving England, the duke
wrote to liis little son this letter, which makes us doubt the truth
of all the cruel things that were said about him, and leads us to
believe in his loyalty and goodness.
My dear and only well-beloved son, I beseech our
Lord in f leaven, the maker of all the world, to bless
you and to send you ever grace to love Him.
Next Him, above all earthly things, to be a true
liegeman in heart, in will, in thought, in deed, unto
the King, our high and dread Sovereign lord.
******
Thirdly, in the same wise, I charge you, my dear
9i
94 DUKE OF SUFFOLK TO HIS SIX-YEAR-OLD SON
son, always as ye be bounden by the commandments
of God to do, to love and worship your lady and
mother ; and also that ye alway obey her command-
ments and believe her counsels.
******
And I will be to you as good lord and father as
my heart can think.
Written of mine hand,
The day of my departing fro this land.
Your true and loving father,
Suffolk.
April, 1450, 28 H. VI.
No doubt the little boy carried the letter with pride to his
•'lady and mother" to read. How glad she must have been to
explain the meaning of the long words and to talk with him about
his good father. They did not know then that it was the duke's
last letter. He sailed for a French port, Calais, but before the
end of his journey he was overtaken by his enemies and cruelly
murdered.
Letters to
Philip and Robert Sidney
from
Their Father
In a book of old letters, written centuries ago, are these
words : —
"Sir Henry Sidney, to his son Philip Sidney, at school at
Shrewsbury, 1566. Ninth year of Elizabeth, [Philip] then being
twelve years old."
Perhaps that will serve to introduce the writer to us and the
boy Philip also, but in order to know something of the school
at Shrewsbury, of Philip's studies and his father's ambitions for
him, we must read the letter.
Sir Henry fills many pages with good advice and we shall see,
after reading a part of his long letter, that a great deal was ex-
pected of boys of twelve in the sixteenth century.
I have received two letters from you, one written
in Latin, the other in French, which I take in good
part, and will you to exercise that practice of learn-
ing often ; for that will stand you in good stead in
that profession of life that you are born to live in.
And as this is the first letter that ever I did write to
you, I will not that it will be all empty of some good
advices.
Use moderate diet, so as after your meat you may
find yourself fresher, and not duller, and your body
95
96 LETTERS TO PHILIP AND ROBERT SIDNEY
more lively and not more heavy. Use exercise of
body, but such as is without peril to your joints and
bones. It will increase your force, and enlarge your
breath.
Give yourself to be merry, for you degenerate from
your father, if you find not yourself most able in wit
and body to do anything when you be most merry.
Above all things tell no untruth, no, not in trifles.
The custom of it is naughty. And let it not satisfy
you, that for a time hearers take it for truth, for after
it will be known as it is to your shame ; for there can-
not be a greater reproach to a gentleman, than to be
accounted a liar.
Well, my little Philip, this is enough for me, and
too much I fear for you, but if I shall find that this
light meal of digestion nourisheth anything, the weak
stomach of your capacity, I will as I find the same
grow stronger, feed it with stronger food.
Your loving father, so long as you live in the fear
of God.
Sir Henry's younger son, Robert, received many letters from
his fatlier when lie too went to school, in 1578. These letters,
and all otliers written at this time, were sent by special mes-
sengers, for it was not until 1581 that posts came into use in
England.*
* The system of posts came into use in England about the begin-
ning of the fifteenth century. Before that time letters were carried by
LETTERS TO PHILIP AND ROBERT SIDNEY 97
Robin, Your several letters of the 17th of Septem-
ber, and the 9th of November I have received, but
that sent by Carolus Clusius I have not yet heard of.
Your letters are most heartily welcome to me ; but
the universal testimony that is made of you doth so
rejoice me, that the sight of no earthly thing is more
or can be more to my comfort, than hearing in this
sort from and of you.
I find by Harry White that all your money is gone,
which with some wonder displeaseth me. If you can-
not frame your charges according to that proportion
I have appointed you, I must and will send for you
home. I have sent order to Mr. Lanquet for one
hundred pounds, for you, which is twenty pounds
more than I promised you, and this I book and
order, that it shall serve you till the last of March,
1580.
Assure yourself I will not enlarge one groat, there-
fore look well to your charges. Write to me monthly
runners, carrier pigeons, or accommodating travelers, and the new
method was considered a great improvement. Men on horseback were
stationed or posted, at regular intervals of a day's journey, on the road
between cities. These roads were called post roads, and were kept in
better order than the other roads, so that the mail should not be de-
layed through accident.
The letters were handed from one messenger to another until they
reached the people to whom they were addressed. The words post
man, post box, post office, and post card all come from this old-time
way of carrying the mail.
98 LETTERS TO PHILIP AND ROBERT SIDNEY
and of your charges particularly, and either in Latin
or French.
Farewell. If you will follow my command you
shall be my sweet boy.
From Baynard's Castle, in London, this 25th of
March, 1578.
Your Loving Father.
A very few years after this, •' Robin,'' then the Earl of Leicester,
although barely nineteen years old, commanded an expedition
against Spain. His brother. Sir Philip Sidney, died on the battle-
field after an engagement.
A story is told of him that when mortally wounded he asked
for a drink. As he raised the bottle to his lips he caught the
wistful gaze of a dying soldier, to whom he handed the bottle,
saying, "Tliy necessity is greater than mine."
It is said that Sir Philip Sidney was the man most loved in
England at that time, for his goodness and rare talents. One of
his admirers said of him, " He approached more nearly to the
ideal of a perfect man as well as a perfect knight than any char-
acter of any other age or nation."
Letters to
Hans Christian Andersen
and
His Replies
In his autobiography Hans Christian Andersen says: "My
life is a pretty tale, equally rich and fortunate. If when as a boy
I went forth alone and poor into the world, a powerful fairy had
met me and said to me, ' Choose thy career and thy goal and I will
protect thee and lead thee onward,' . . . my fate could not have
been ordered more happily, sensibly, and prosperously. The
story of my life will tell the world what it has told to me — that
there is a loving God who orders all things for the best."
We can scarcely believe that the writer of these words was one
who had suffered trials and disappointments, enough to sour and
discourage the bravest heart. But Hans Christian Andersen had
" a knack at hoping " that carried him safely over the hard places
in his life.
His career, which began in a very humble way, ended amid
almost universal praise and honor. The poor, lonely boy who
wandered unknown through the streets of Copenhagen in search
of work, lived to enjoy the personal friendship of his king. Chris-
tian VIII, and to have his name a household word in many lands.
One of the most gratifying facts of his life was that his stories
were so widely read. He once said of them, "A lucky star
presides over my writings — they fly far and wide."
On his seventieth birthday he was presented with a volume
containing one of his tales in fifteen languages.
99
100 HAIVS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S LETTERS
Hans Andersen had many friends that he never saw, friends
that he grew to know and love through correspondence.
One day among the letters on his desk was an envelope
addressed in a childish hand and postmarked Scotland. It was
from Mary Livingstone, daughter of Dr. David Livingstone, the
explorer of Africa. The note she wrote to Andersen was very
simple, but he felt the sincerity of her frank words and took her
straightway into his affections.
For many years they corresponded, this little Scotch girl and
the great and good writer of fairy tales. Here are some of their
letters : —
Ulra Cottage, Hamilton,
Scotland, ist Jan., 1869.
Dear Hans Anderse7i, — \ do like your fairy tales
so much that I would like to go and see you, but I
cannot do that, so I thought I would write to you.
When papa comes from Africa, I will ask him to take
me to see you. My favorite stories in one book are,
"The Goloshes of Fortune," "The Snow Queen,"
and some others. My papa's name is Dr. Livingstone.
I am sending my card and papa's autograph.
I will say good-by to you and a happy New Year.
I am your affectionate little friend,
Anna Mary Livingstone.
The letter that Hans Andersen wrote in answer to Mary's is
missing, but Mary's next letter shows that he did answer the
first one in a very kind and thoughtful way.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S LETTERS lOI
Ulra Cottage, Hamilton,
Scotland. 20th Oct., 1869.
My dear Hans C. Andersen, — I was delighted to
get your letter ; and when I got your card I looked at
it and thought that I had got acquainted with a
gentlemen whom I would like very much. I thank
you very much for the Translation, for without it I
could not understand your letter and then I would
not have been able to answer any of the questions
you asked me.
We got news twice about papa but none of them
were true. But last Friday our station-master, who
knows us, came up with a paper that had news, the
good news, and oh ! we were so delighted.
I saw the story of " Vaenoe and Glanoe." I thought
it very pretty and I hope you will write some more.
The first that I ever read was " Maja," or " Little
Thumb."
Thomas and Oswell, my brothers, and Agnes, my
sister, are quite well. Only my mamma is dead and I
have two aunts, Janet and Agnes Livingstone, with
whom my home is. It is a very nice home. I once
had a Grandmamma Livingstone, but she is dead now.
With my best love to all at your home, I remain
your most affectionate little friend,
Anna Mary Livingstone,
102 HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S LETTERS
Basnas, near Lake Jelskor, Denmark,
May, 1 87 1.
My dear little Friend, — Thanks for the charming
letter which you sent me a short time ago.
Here in Denmark we often speak of your dear
papa and his travels in Africa.
Recently I read in a newspaper that he had left
there and was on his way back to Europe. Hurrah !
That would be indeed splendid. The dear God
never forsakes good people who live in Him and pro-
duce good works. What a joy for the family, what a
festival for the whole country it will be when the
dear energetic father whom we all value and honor
returns to England ! Then when he has well kissed
his little Mary, conversed with her and told her every-
thing, remember me to him and greet him kindly for
me, him over whom God has stretched His protecting
hand to the delight and instruction of us all.
Now I am in the country, close by the seacoast,
and am staying at an ancient castle with a high
tower. The garden runs down to the seashore and
stretches away to the beech woods, which arc now
splendidly fresh and green. The whole ground of
the forest is like a carpet strewn with violets and
anemones. The wood doves are cooing, and the
cuckoo's note is heard. Here I shall certainly write
a new story which my little friend will afterward be
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S LETTERS 103
able to read. When papa comes then I shall probably
have a letter from his dear little Mary ?
Now may you be well and merry. You will not
forget the friend in Denmark.
Hans Christian Andersen.
In the following letters we hear something of Stanley, that
brave man who went in search of Dr. Livingstone.
Probably we all know the story of the meeting between these
two men in the African jungle. With that in mind it is interest-
ing to read what Mary Livingstone wrote about Stanley's visit
to their home.
Ulra Cottage, Hamilton,
23d November, 1872.
My dearest H. Andersen, — I meant to have writ-
ten to you long ago and sent you a green stone for
that you lost ; but I never could get time. First my
brother Thomas took very ill with pleurisy, eleven
weeks from to-day and this is the first day he has been
downstairs. Then we had Mr. Stanley. He came
to stay with the Provost of Hamilton, Mr. Dykes, and
to lecture here. He was presented with the freedom
of the Burgh of Hamilton. My sister Agnes and
one of my aunts and I were introduced to him on the
platform, amid loud cheers.
He came in the afternoon to our house and then
went to the banquet in the town hall. In the evening
he delivered a very interesting lecture. Next day
104 HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S LETTERS
we took him to see the palace, and then he went
away. I was very sorry when he went. I like him
so much. When I was in lona a Highland relation
of ours gave me a whole sovereign. Agnes and
Thomas and Oswell and I bought a beautiful gold
locket for Mr. Stanley and had his intitals put on it,
and inside is papa on one side and on the other his
four children in recognition of his finding papa. So
I gave ten shillings for this locket and as I heard
that there had been dreadful floods in Denmark, I
willingly give the other ten shilhngs for the relief of
the people.
I should like so to get a letter from you when you
have time. I shall now close. So I am, dear Hans
Andersen, your ever affectionate young friend,
Anna Mary Livingstone.
P.S. I love you so much — dear — dear Hans
Andersen.
DOLLY Madison
to
Her Niece in IVashington
When " Dolly "' Madison, wife of President Madison, became
the " first lady in the land," she was famed for her beauty and
her gracious courtly manners. When she left Washington after
the War of 1812 she was famed for her bravery as well.
Many of us remember the story of that exciting day when the
people in the White House were wakened by the sound of the
British guns. The President was absent, consulting with his
generals. "Dolly "was advised to leave at once. Instead of
thinking of her own personal belongings, she thought only of her
country's loss, if the enemy should burn the " White House.''
She hastily gathered together some state papers, and, running to
the parlor, took down the portrait of Washington painted by the
famous artist Stuart. Finding that it was too large and heavy
for her to carry, she cut the canvas from the frame, rolled it, and
so took it to a place of safety.
In the State Department at Washington one may see the small
red leather trunk in which the papers were carried, that eventful
day. The portrait of Washington still hangs in the White
House.
Mrs. Madison wrote delightful letters, but unfortunately she
wrote seldom to children. Mary Cutts, her niece and namesake,
was almost her only youthful correspondent.
This letter written from Montpelier shows that the writer's
interest in fashions and society did not lessen when she lived in
her quiet country home.
I06 DOLLY MADISON TO HER NIECE
MONTPELIER, July 30, 1826.
Your letter, my dearest niece, with the one before
it, came quite safely for which I return many thanks
and kisses. I rejoice too, dear Dolly, to see how
well you write and express yourself, and am as
proud of all your acquirements as if you were my
own daughter.
I trust you will yet be with me this summer when
I shall see your improvement in person also, and en-
joy the sweet assurance of your affection.
If I were in Washington with you, I know I could
not conform to the formal rules of visiting they now
have, but would disgrace myself by rushing about
among my friends at all hours. Here I find it most
agreeable to stay at home, everything is so beautiful.
Our garden promises grapes and figs in abundance,
but I shall not enjoy them unless your Mamma comes
and brings you to help us with them ; tell the boys
they must come too.
Adieu and believe me always your tender aunt.
Dolly P. Madison.
P.S. We are very old-fashioned here. Can you
send me a paper pattern of the present sleeve and
describe the width of dress and waist .■' Also, how
turbans are pinned up and bonnets worn, as well as
how to behave in fashion ?
y4BRAHAM LINCOLN
to
A Utile Stranger
This letter was written by Abraham Lincoln before he be-
came President of the United States. At that time, only six
months before Fort Sumter fell, Lincoln was busy trying to solve
the gravest problems. Every day was crowded with exciting
events, and with •' head, heart, and hand" he worked to save his
beloved country.
One morning, among the mass of important correspondence
that he found on his desk, was a letter from a little girl.
Many people would think it unnecessary to reply to such a
note, but Lincoln proved his great love for children by sending
this answer : —
Springfield, Illinois, October 19, i860.
Miss Grace Bedell,
3f)/ dear little Miss, — Your very agreeable letter
of the 15th is received. I regret the necessity of
saying I have no daughter. I have three sons — one
seventeen, one nine, and one seven years of age.
They, with their mother, constitute my whole family.
As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you
not think people would call it a piece of silly affecta-
tion if I were to begin it now .■■
Soon after Lincoln went to Washington he wore a beard, so
perhaps he followed the suggestion of the little girl after all.
107
From
BENJ/iMltl FHAHKUN
to
His [JAUCHThff Sai.i.y
"I have a thousanrl times wished you with me and my little
Sally, with her ready hands and feet to do and go and come and
get what I wanted," wrote Benjamin F'ranklin to his wife, one
day. Evidently the helpful little girl wjrs a great favorite with
her father, for he refers to her often in his letters.
Franklin when abroad on important hasiness showed his
thought of her in many plf:asant ways. From time to time he
sent home boxes of useful and beautiful things, and usually there
was something marked especially for his pet Sally.
Once, when sending such a box he wrote : —
I have sent a petticoat of brocaded lutestring for
my dear Sally, with two dozen gloves, four bottles of
lavender water and two little reels. Th'; reels ;ir(;
to screw on the edge of the table when she would
wind silk or thread. The skein is to be put over
them and winds better than if held in two hands.
Perhaps the fiather was afraid that the gorgeous petticoat
might turn her head, for he writes again, more seriously : —
I hope Sally applies herself clo.sely to her P'rench
and music and that I shall find she has made great
proficiency. Sally's last letter to her brother is the
best wrote that of late I have seen of hers. \ only
io8
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TO HIS DAUGHTER IO9
wish she was a Httle more careful of her spelling.
I hope she continues to love going to Church and
would have her read over again the " Whole Duty
of Man " and the " Lady's Library."
One letter that Franklin wrote to Sally, we have found and
we quote from it. It is interesting, for it shows what he thought
of our national emblem, the eagle, when it was first adopted by
the Society of the Cincinnati in 1783.
For my own part I wish the bald eagle had
not been chosen as the representative of our coun-
try ; he is a bird of bad moral character ; he does not
get his living honestly ; you may have seen him
perched on some dead tree, where, too lazy to fish
for himself, he watches the labor of the fishing hawk
and when that diligent bird has at length taken a fish
and is bearing it to his nest for the support of his
mate and young ones, the bald eagle pursues him
and takes it from him.
With all this injustice he is never in good case;
but like those among men who live by sharping
and robbing, he is generally poor ; . . . Besides he
is a rank coward ; the little kingbird, not bigger than
a sparrow, attacks him boldly and drives him out of
the district. He is therefore no proper emblem for
the brave and honest Cincinnati of America who
have driven all the kingbirds from our country.
Letters
from
Celia Thaxter
" All the pictures over which I dream are set in this framework
of the sea," wrote Celia Thaxter from the island home where she
spent so many years of her life.
As a child she went to live there, and later, when she was free
to choose between the fields and woods of the mainland and the
steep gray rocks, she chose to live " by the deep sea."
The childhood of Celia Thaxter was a happy one. The little
princess in her necklace and bracelets of sea shells made friends
with every living thing that found a home on the island.
" I remember," she says, "in the spring, kneeling on the ground
to seek the first blades of grass that pricked through the soil and
bringing them into the house to study and wonder over. Better
than a shop full of toys they were to me ! Whence came their
color ? How did they draw their sweet, refreshing tint from the
brown earth or the limpid air or the white liglit ? Chemistry was
not at hand to answer me and all her wisdom would not have
dispelled the wonder. Later, the little scarlet pimpernel charmed
me. It seemed more than a flower ; it was a human thing. I
knew it by its homely name of ' poor man's weather glass.' It
was so much wiser than I, fur when the sky was yet without a
cloud, softly it clasped its small red petals together, folding its
golden heart in safety from the shower that was sure to come.
How could it know so much ? "
Celia Thaxter's love of nature was not merely a childi.sh affec-
tion ; it was something that lasted all through her life. ^
no
LETTERS FROM CELT A THAXTER III
She stored away in her memory such "a wealth of sound and
sight" that when she began to write she was able to teach others
to see and hear the beauty and music in nature. One may truly
say of her poems, '• Here are flowers and songs of birds, beauty
and fragrance." And her letters breathe the same lovely spirit.
My darling little Nan, — Would you like, some day
when you have a little time, to go along the river-bank
with a piece of paper or something and gather me
some harebell seeds .-^ If you could and would, I
should be so very glad, for I want to get the dear
lovely bells to grow here, by our river, as well as by
yours, and I am afraid the roots I brought all the
way from Newburyport and set out here will not live.
If I had some seeds, I would plant them this fall and
I think they'd come up in the spring,
******
We have a dear little baby named Richard and a
little girl named May Dana here, and their mother.
The baby was born in Utah, and rode all the way
from the Rocky Mountains to Massachusetts in an
ambulance, across the plains, when he was five months
old, in August.
One night there was a dreadful storm (they had
made a tent-house for themselves every night), and
the rain and wind were so frightful they tore down the
tent-house, and drenched all their clothes and all their
beds, and everything they had. And then they were
112 LETTERS FROM CELIA THAXTER
exposed to the merciless storm till morning, not a dry
rag to put on, or a dry place to put baby, and the big
hailstones beating them till he cried with the pain of
them. Wasn't that cruel ? Think of little Anson
exposed to such a dreadful storm. But it was beauti-
ful, pleasant days, traveling, for the ground was cov-
ered with such lovely flowers, verbenas, petunias,
gladiolus, mats of crimson and scarlet portulaca, all
sorts of lovely garden flowers, growing wild, and
wonderful kinds of cactus, etc.
But poor httle Richard and May like wooden
houses better than tents and living here with their
little cousins better than being rattled along by the
trains of mules and troops of men, day after day,
through the sunshine and rain.
Do write to me, Nan darling, and send me the seeds
if you can.
This letter was written several years later, to Anson — Nan's
brother.
You know, my dear Anson, how much hasty pud-
ding must be made in a family of growing boys and
how many vile old trousers and shirts and duds have
to be darned in more senses than one, by the mother
of a family. So I hope you'll be charitable — for I've
been loving you just as much all the time as if I had
LETTERS FROM CELTA THAXTER II3
written a volume. Well, how do you do this beautiful
weather, you dear thing ? Isn't it beautiful to have
real hot summer days at last ? How are all the gold
robins (Baltimore oriole) and sparrows, and catbirds,
and blackbirds, and ringbirds, and hummingbirds and
things ?
% % % ^ ^ ^
We had a wind that was like a hurricane of the
desert, the other day, hot and strong and long. A
little chipping sparrow had built her dainty nest in
the cherry-tree outside my western chamber window,
within reach of my hand, and as I sat there sewing, I
could watch her going and coming and it was more
lovely than tongue can tell. Well, this preposterous
gale blew and blew and blew till the cows came home,
and blew all night besides, as if its only earthly aim
and object was to destroy every living thing in its
way. It blew the dear little nest with its pretty
blue eggs clean away out of sight ; we found the
remains in the hedge next day. And a dear purple
finch's nest shares the same fate. The finches had
built in a little cedar by the fence. I was so sorry.
Lots of nests were blown away, all about. I hope
gold robin held fast to the elm-tree, down at Gam-
mur's, if that senseless wind went tearing and roaring
to Newburyport, as I suppose it did. Did the yellow
bird build in the currant bushes ? I am so anxious to
114 LETTERS FROM CELIA THAXTER
know ! When I went over to Amesbury that day I
left you, a ruby-throated humming bird was flutter-
ing among Mr. Whittier's pear-trees all day. I won-
dered if he were the same one you and mamma and
I watched that heavenly afternoon before, when we
sat by the pleasant open window, with the daffys
underneath, and the birds going and coming.
Mr. Thaxter and Lony have been gone three days,
and I milk the cow and she is tied to an apple-tree,
and what do you think she does .■• She's as frisky as
a kitten, so all the time I'm milking she goes round
and round the tree and I after her and it's a spectacle
enough to kill the cats it's so ridiculous.
******
I've just got through wrestling with the dragon of
housecleaning and have succeeded in felling him to
earth.
A Great Actor
to
His Daughter
It is one thing to read of Edwin Booth, the famous actor, and
to hear people tell of his wonderful acting. It is quite another
thing to picture him, his stage costume laid aside, talking with
his little daughter. This we may do if we read the letters that
he wrote to her.
Edwina was sent to school when very young, for her father
was absent from home a great deal, and after her mother's death
there was no one to care for their little girl.
Booth wrote to her often. Sometimes serious letters about
her studies, her manners, and her health, but usually his letters
were full of fun. They were just the sort of letters that a lonely
child would like to receive when away from home. How glad we
are that she kept some of them for us to enjoy.
Philadelphia, October 24th, 1867.
My beloved Daughter, — I'll try my best to write plain
for your special benefit. But you see old pop is so
very nervous and full of business that he can't hold
the pen steady enough to form the letters correctly.
You see that little picture in the corner, at the top .<*
That is styled a monogram which your teacher will
describe to you, if you ask her the meaning thereof,
better than I can do in the course of a letter of so
"5
Il6 A GREAT ACTOR TO HIS DAUGHTER
much importance as the present one. It is a com-
bination of my two initials, E and B. I dare say you
can guess what they stand for. 'Twould serve for
your letters likewise, would it not.? In three weeks
Ave will be in New York, that will be near Christmas,
too, at which time I suppose Edwina will be coming
home for a holiday to eat plum pudding with her
little pa. N'est-ce-pas ? That's a French pun which
your French teacher must explain — it's too hard
for me. . . .
Write good long letters and try to write them with-
out the help of your teacher or any one ; you must
learn to compose as well as to write your letters, and
you can do it very nicely. God bless you, my darling !
Your Loving Papa.
Chicago, March 2d, 1873.
My dear, big Daughter : Your last letter was very
jolly and made me most happy. Pip (the dog) is
yelping to write to you and so is your little brother,
and St. Valentine, the bird ; but I greatly fear they
will have to wait another week, for you know, I have
to hold the pen for them and I have written so many
letters and to-day my hand is tired. Don't you think
it jollier to receive silly letters sometimes than to get
a repetition of sermons in good behavior .■' It is be-
cause I desire to encourage you in a vein of pleas-
A GREAT ACTOR TO HIS DAUGHTER I17
antry which is most desirable in one's correspondence
as well as in conversation that I put aside the stern
old father and play papa now and then.
When I was learning to act tragedy, I had fre-
quently to perform comic parts in order to acquire a
certain ease of manner, that my serious parts might
not appear too stilted ; so you must endeavor in your
letters, in your conversation, and your general deport-
ment to be easy and natural, graceful and dignified.
But remember that dignity does not consist of over-
becoming pride and haughtiness ; self-respect, polite-
ness, and gentleness in all things and to all persons
will give you sufficient dignity.
Well, I declare I've dropped into a sermon after
all, haven't I .'' I'm afraid I'll have to let Pip and
the bird have a chance or else I'll go on preaching
till the end of my letter. You must tell me what you
are reading now and how you progress in your studies
and how good you are trying to be. Of that I have
no fear. . . .
Love and kisses from your grim old
Father.
At the top of this letter Booth drew a small figure of a canary
bird.
St. Valentine's Day,
Feb. 14th, 1874.
Tweet, tweet, how d'y do ^ May be you don't know
Il8 A GREAT ACTOR TO HIS DAUGHTER
me. I'm Val : papa calls me Tiny for short, 'cause
I'm short. I'm a bir-r-r-r-d — a Ka-noory bir-r-r-r-r-d ;
and I'm yaller with dark spots here and there ; I for-
get just where 'cause I ain't got no looking-glass, but
I've heard 'em say, I've got dark spots, and so I've
heard too, has the sun and the sun's yaller too, ain't
it ? I have the nicest seed you ever seed ! Papa
whistles to me. Tweet, tweet, I'm a jolly little boy
and my name's St. Valentine. Perhaps you don't
know I'm your brother ? Yes, I am and Pip is my
other sister — so are you. My otherest one. I don't
like Pip. She's a dorg and she snarls and wakes me
up and sits on her hind legs and think she looks like
me cause she's got a dark spot all over her body and
has a few dirty kind of yallerish spots on her feet and
things ; but she ain't, she's a dorg and I'm a bir-r-r-
r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-d, Tweet, Tweet, Tweet,
Good-bye.
Louisville, March 12th. 1876.
... I must tell you of our ride from Mammoth
Cave, that "big hole in the ground." I shall try to
relate the wonders I heard in the cavern, and describe
our jog over the stones, through the forest. Our guide
was a bright young colored chap who produced by his
imitation of dogs, cows, etc., some fine effects of ven-
triloquism on our way through the cave. In pointing
A GREAT ACTOR TO HIS DAUGHTER I19
out to US a huge stone shaped like a coffin he would
remark ; " Dis is de giant's coff-in," then taking us
to the other dilapidated side of it ; " Dis is what he
coughed out." Then we reached what they call down
there " The Altar," where some foolish folk were
married, once upon a time. " De young lady swore
she nebber would marry any man on the face ob the
earth, so she came down yer and got married under
de face ob de earth. 'Spec she wanted materomony
inter de groun'." Then he would cry out, "Hi!
John ! " and we could hear the echo, as we thought,
far, far away, then he would strike the ground with
his staff and we could hear a loud reverberating sound
as tho' all beneath were hollow, though when any of
us tried it no sound would come. He had finally to
own up that he was both cause and effect. Fre-
quently we found in different chambers in the cave,
crystallizations hanging from the rocky ceiling called
" Stalactites," and others rising from the ground
directly beneath them reaching up and often joining
the ones from above and forming a solid pillar from
the floor to roof ; these latter are called " Stalagmites."
William, our guide (very serious all the time), remarked
that " De upper ones was called stalac-tite 'cause dey
stick tight to de roof and de odder ones stalag-mite,
'cause dey might reach the upper ones and den again
they mightn't." A facetious and comical darkey, truly !
I20 A GREAT ACTOR TO HIS DAUGHTER
One of their columns or pillars had a sort of knob on
it shaped like a fat dumpling face which is named here
" Lot's wife." William said, " And she hasn't done
poutin' about it yet." So we went laughing at his
weak jokes. . . . Do not be discouraged because you
find your knowledge less as you grow older ; it will
be so until you give up the great riddle of life and
cease to guess at it tho' you live to the age of Methu-
selah. I have only just discovered that I know infi-
nitely less than nothing. So do all at forty unless
they are fools. We all must live and learn, or loaf
and lose (that word " loaf " however is a vulgarism,
used here only for the sake of alliteration ; do not
use it). You know I have acted Hamlet for many
years and many hundred times. Well, I am just learn-
ing many things that are hidden all this while in the
obscurity of its wonderful depths of thought : so when
you are 365 years old you will give up guessing
" what it's all about, anyhow." As for what you
say about your not being patient when sick. Why
are not all patients sick and all sick people patients .''
Baltimore, February 14th, 1875.
Dearest little daughter mine
This being the silly rhymester's season,
So I think a sufficient reason
For me to jingle you a line ;
A GREAT ACTOR TO HIS DAUGHTER 121
Nor can " Superior " think it treason
Surely 'tis no fault of thine
If papa plays " St. Valentine."
I won't run in rhapsody
Setting your noddle in a whirl
By styling you my " precious pearl,"
But like a plain " old nobody "
Just say, I love my little girl
Without regard to prosody
And thus defy all parody.
For none can find in such a line
(Although my jingles are so crude)
For ridicule one grain of food.
Though they may laugh at my poor rhyme
Well, let them laugh ; while she is good
My little daughter shall be mine
And I'll be her " Old Valentine."
General Lee
to
His LmiE Girls
Robert E. Lee was a soldier even before he graduated from
West Point. It is safe to say that he was born a soldier, for he
inherited the love of military life from his father, the famous
general of the Revolution, known as •' Light Horse Harry."
Bravery was a quality that always went with the name of Lee,
and Robert E. Lee had it in full measure. He was three times
brevetted for gallantry.
General Lee had a houseful of happy boys and girls. With
them he was not a stern soldier, but instead their best friend and
playmate. He taught his children to be kind to all animals and
they were never without some pet dog or cat. His own favorite
was '' Traveler," a beautiful horse that he rode in the war.
Soon after the Mexican War, while the army was still in camp,
Lee wrote this letter to his daughter Agnes. Annie, who is
mentioned in the letter, was her sister.
CiTV OF Mexico,
February 12th, 1848.
My dear little Agnes, — I was delighted to receive
your letter, and to find that you could write so well.
But how could you say that I had not written to you .■'
Did I not write to you and Annie .■' I suppose you
want a letter all to yourself, so here is one. I am
very anxious to see you again and to know how you
122
GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRLS 1 23
progress in your studies. You must be quite learned
studying so many branches, and I suppose are becom-
ing quite a philosopher. There is a nice little girl
here, rather smaller than you were when I parted
from you, named Charlottita, which means little
Charlotte, who is a great favorite of mine. Her
mother is a French lady and her father an English-
man. She is quite fair, with blue eyes and long dark
lashes, and has her hair plaited down her back. She
cannot speak English, but has a very nim.ble little
tongue and jabbers French at me. Last Sunday she
and her elder sister came to the palace to see me,
and I carried them into the garden I told you of, and
got them some flowers. Afterwards I took them to
see the Governor, General Smith, and showed them
the rooms in the palace, some of which are very large,
with pictures, mirrors, and chandeliers. One room,
called the reception room, is very richly furnished.
The curtains are of crimson velvet with gilt mount-
ings, and the walls are covered with crimson tapestry.
The ceiling is ornamented with gilt figures, and the
chairs are covered with crimson velvet. At one end
of the room there is a kind of throne, with a crimson
velvet canopy, suspended from a gilt coronet on
which is perched the Mexican eagle on a gilt cactus,
holding a snake in his mouth. It was on this dais
and under this canopy that President Santa Anna
124 GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRLS
used to receive his company on great occasions.
Church is held in this room now every Sunday. Santa
Anna's large armchair is brought forward to the front
of the dais before which is placed a small desk where
Mr. McCarty, our Chaplain, reads the Episcopal
Service and preaches a sermon, General Scott and
the officers and those soldiers that wish to attend, sit-
ting below him. After showing Charlottita and her
sister Isabel all these things, she said she wished to
go to her Mamarita, which means little Mamma, so I
carried her out of the palace and she gave me some
very sweet kisses and bade me adieu. She is always
dressed very nicely when I see her and keeps her
clothes very clean ; I hope my little girls keep theirs
just as nice, for I know I cannot bear dirty children.
You must, therefore, study hard and be a very nice
girl and do not forget your papa who thinks con-
stantly of you and longs to see you more than he can
express. Take good care of Mildred and tell her
how much her Papa wants to see her. I do not see
any little children here like her. Write to me soon
and believe me always your affectionate father,
R. E. Lee.
The following letters were written to Mildred, Lee's youngest
daughter : —
Camp, 28th April, 1856.
My dear little Daughter, — I was much pleased to
GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRLS 1 25
receive your letter. I did not know that you could
write so well. I think in time when you get more
accustomed to spelling in writing you will write a
beautiful letter, and Minnie Sprole and I will have
delightful times reading them. I am very glad to
hear that your hens are doing so well. You must
have plenty of eggs, chickens, and ducks for Rob
and the children when they come home this summer.
You know your brother Fitzhugh has a magnificent
appetite, and those girls from Staunton never see a
chicken. I wish I had you here to take care of mine.
I brought them many hundred miles in a coop behind
the wagon and every evening at the end of the day's
march, would let them out and at night they would
roost on top of the wagon. They laid several eggs
on the road. I have only seven hens and some days
I get seven eggs. Having no plank, I have been
obliged to make them a house of twigs. I planted
four posts in the ground and bored holes in each,
three feet from the ground, in which I inserted poles
for the floor, and around which were woven the
branches that formed it. There are so many reptiles
in this country that you cannot keep fowls on the
ground. The sides and tops were formed in the same
way, and the whole is covered with branches with
their leaves on, which makes a shady house but fur-
nishes little protection against rain. Soldier hens,
126 GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRLS
however, must learn not to mind rain. I converted
the coop they came in into nests. They pick up so
much corn among the horses that I do not have to
feed them, and they seem quite domesticated. I have
no cat, nor have I heard of one in this country. You
will have to send me a kitten in your next letter. The
Indians have none, as there are so many wolves
prowling around that they frighten away all the mice.
My rattlesnake, my only pet, is dead. He grew sick
and would not eat his frogs, etc., and died one night.
I hope you will have a nice garden and study hard
and learn your lessons well. You must write to me
whenever you can and believe me your
Affectionate father,
Robert E. Lee.
Indianola, Texas, 22 March, 1857.
How can you say, My Precious Life, that I have
not answered your letters } I cannot answer them
before I receive them, but always do after. I was
much gratified at finding on my arrival at San An-
tonio your two of the 4th Jan. and 13th Feb. They
were very nice letters too, particularly the last. Well
written and all the words correctly spelled. I think
in time you will write beautiful letters. You must
continue, therefore, to try and take pains. It has
been said that our letters are good representatives of
GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRLS 1 27
our minds. If fair, correct, sensible, and clear; so
may you expect to find the writers. They certainly
present a good criterion for judging of the character
of the individual. You must be careful that yours
make a favorable impression of you, as I hope you
will deserve. I am truly sorry for the destruction of
the Long Bridge. It will be an injury to the business
of many, and an inconvenience to you in taking your
music lessons. I am very glad to hear of your inter-
est and progress in music and hope your proficiency
will keep pace with your labor. You must be a
great personage now, sixty pounds ! Enormous. I
wish I had you here in all your ponderosity. I want
to see you so much. Cannot you and dear Mary
Childe pack yourselves in a carpet bag and come out
to the Comanche country } I wish you would. I
would get you such a fine cat you would never look
at " Tomtita " again. Did I tell you " Jim Nooks,"
Mrs. Waite's cat, was dead } Died of apoplexy. I
foretold his end. Coffee and cream for breakfast,
pound cake for lunch, turtle and oysters for dinner,
buttered toast for tea, and Mexican rats, taken raw,
for his supper. Cat nature could not stand so much
luxury. He grew enormously and ended in a spasm.
His beauty could not save him. I saw in San An-
tonio a cat dressed up for company. He had two
holes bored in each ear, and in each were two bows
128 GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRLS
of pink and blue ribbon. His round face set in pink
and blue looked like a full blooming ivy bush. He
was snow-white, and wore the golden fetters of his
inamorata around his neck, in the form of a collar.
His tail and feet were tipped with black, and his eyes
of green and stealthy pace, were truly cat-like ! But
I saw " cats as is cats " in Savannah. While the stage
was changing mules, I stepped around to see Mr. and
Mrs. Monod, a French couple, with whom I had
passed a night when I landed in Texas in 1846, to
join General Wool's army. Mr. Monod received me
with all the shrugs and grimaces of his nation, and
the entrance of Madame was foreshadowed by her
stately cats, with visage grave and tails erect, who
preceded, surrounded, and followed in her wake. Her
present favorite Sodoiska, a large mottled gray, was
a magnificent creature, and in her train she pointed
out Aglai, her favorite eleven years ago when I
first visited her. They are of French breed and edu-
cation, and when the claret and water was poured
out for my refreshment they jumped on the table for
a sip too. If I can persuade the mail stage to give a
place to one of that distinguished family, I will take
one to Camp Cooper, provided Madame can trust her
pet into such a barbarous country and Indian society.
I left that wild cat on the Rio Grande. He was too
savage. Had grown as large as a small-sized dog.
GENERAL LEE TO HIS LITTLE GIRIS 1 29
Had to be caged, and would strike at everything that
came within his reach. His cage had to be strong
and consequently heavy, and I could not bring it.
He would pounce upon a kid as " Tomtita " would on
a mouse, and would whistle like a tiger when you
approach him. Give much love to Mary Childe when
she comes and tell her I love her dearly. Be a good
child and think always of your devoted father,
R. E. Lee.
/I Few Letters
from
Henry IV. Longfellow
"Where are your dolls?" said Longfellow to a shy little girl,
one day. '" I want you to show me your dolls, not the fine ones
you keep for company, but those you love best and play with
every day."
No wonder that children felt at home with the poet and
loved him too, for his heart went out to every little child that he
met. The silence of Longfellow''s study was often broken by
the shout and laughter of the children at play. We are quite
sure that they did not always wait to be admitted until their
special hour "between the dark and the daylight."
Sometimes the poet wrote to his friends about his little girls.
Here is an extract from a letter to Charles Sumner : —
Two little girls are playing about the room ; A.
counting with great noise the brass handles on my
secretary, nine, eight, five, one, and E. insisting upon
having some paper box long promised but never
found, and informing me that I am not a man of my
word.
In another letter he wrote : —
My little girls are flitting about my study as
blithe as two birds. They are preparing to celebrate
the birthday of one of their dolls, ... E. occu-
130
LETTERS FROM HENRY W. LONGFELLOW 131
pies her leisure in a correspondence with me. Her
post-office is under her pillow where she expects to
find a letter in the morning.
Before we read the letters that the poet wrote to children,
perhaps we shall find it interesting to see how he wrote when he
himself was a child, seven years old.
In a letter of January 13, 1 814, to her husband, then attending
the General Court in Boston, his mother sends this message
from Henry : —
Oh, tell papa I am writing at school, a, b, c, and
send my love to him and I hope he will bring me
a drum.
"Not content with sending the message, he was eager to
use his new accomplishment and soon with patient labor he
constructed with his own hand the following letter, the first he
ever wrote — who was to write so many": —
Portland, Jan. 18 14.
Dear Papa, — Ann wants a little Bible like
Betsy's. Will you please buy her one if you can
find any in Boston } I have been to school all the
week and got only seven marks. I shall have a
billet on Monday. I wish you to buy me a drum.
Henry W. Longfellow.
It is pleasant to find him thinking of his sister's Bible before
his own drum. To the boy's letter the father replied : —
I have found a very pretty drum with an eagle
132 LETTERS FROM HENRY VV. LONGFELLOW
painted on it but the man asks two dollars for it.
They do not let any vessels go from Boston to Port-
land now. But if I can find any opportunity to send
it down I shall buy it, and if I cannot I shall buy
something which will please you as well. I am glad
that you have been a good boy at school and are likely
to get a billet. If I can get time I will write to you
and Stephen another letter and tell you about the
State-house and the theater and other things that are
in Boston.
We hope that little Henry did not wait long for his drum and
that he received the much-coveted billet at school.
In "The Children's Hour," Longfellow describes his three
daughters and tells us their names : " Grave Alice and laughing
Allegra and Edith with golden hair." This letter tells us more
about the little girls and of a happy summer they spent at the
seashore : —
To Emily A.
N AH ANT, August 1 8, 1859.
Your letter followed me down here by the seaside
where I am passing the summer with my three little
girls. The oldest is about your age ; but as little girls'
ages keep changing every year, I can never remember
exactly how old she is and have to ask her Mamma
who has a better memory than I have. Her name is
Alice, I never forget that. She is a nice girl and
loves poetry about as much as you do. The second
LETTERS FROM HENRY IV. LONGFELLOW 1 33
is Edith with blue eyes and beautiful golden locks
which I sometimes call her " Nankeen hair " to make
her laugh. She is a very busy little woman and wears
gray boots. The youngest is AUegra ; which you
know means merry ; and she is the merriest little thing
you ever saw — always singing and laughing all over
the house.
These are my three little girls and Mr. Read has
painted them all in one picture which I hope you will
see some day. They bathe in the sea and dig in the
sand and patter about the piazza all day long and
sometimes go to see the Indians encamped on the
shore and buy baskets and bows and arrows. I do
not say anything about the two boys. They are such
noisy fellows it is of no use to talk about them.
And now, dear Miss Emily, give my love to your
papa and good-night with a kiss from his friend and
yours.
Longfellow responded most generously to the many requests
for his autograph although he usually gave only his name and the
date. One little girl was made especially happy by receiving
these lines from the poet : —
She who comes to me and pleadeth
In the gentle name of Edith
Will surely get that which she wanted.
Edith means the blessed ; therefore
134 LETTERS FROM HENRY W. LONGFELLOW
Whatsoever she doth care for
Shall if best for her be granted.
How amused Longfellow must have been to receive this
request from a little boy. " Please send me your autograph in
your own handwriting."
Florence A., to whom the following letter is written, evidently
asked for more than a mere autograph.
To Florence A.
November 20, 1871.
I have put off answering your nice little note from
day to day ; but as you see I have not forgotten it.
I have been hoping all along that some lines of poetry
such as you ask for would come into my mind. But
they would not and so I have to write you in prose,
not to keep you waiting any longer. If you will ask
your papa who knows all about it he will tell you that
good poems do not always come to one's mind when
wanted. Verses — yes, one can write those at any
time ; but real poetry, that is another matter. I think
good prose is better than bad verse. I do not say
than bad poetry, because when it is bad, it is no longer
poetry.
And so I send you this little note instead of a little
song and with it good wishes for your birthday and
kind remembrances for your father.
LETTERS FROM HENRY IV. LONGFELLOW 135
This next letter is probably the last that Longfellow wrote, as
it is dated just a few days before his death : —
To Bessie M.
March i6th, 1882.
My dear Miss Bessie, — I thank you very much for
that poem you wrote me on my birthday, a copy of
which your father sent me. It was very sweet and
simple and does you great credit. I do not think there
are many girls of your age who can write so well. I
myself do not know of any. It was very good of you
to remember my birthday at all and to have you
remember it in so sweet a way is very pleasant and
gratifying to me.
To Julian and
Una Hawthorne
from
Their Parents
When the good genii of the sunbeams came into Hawthorne's
study, he did not leave the troublesome gift of "The Golden
Touch," but left instead the golden gift of writing.
Hawthorne wrote for grown people and also for children ;
something that few writers can do. He dearly loved children and
spent much of his time with them. We read in his biography
that he made them boats and kites ; he took them fishing and
flower-gathering. In the fall he delighted to plan nutting parties.
What fun it was for Una and Julian and the others when he
would have them stand under a big nut tree with their hands over
their eyes, while he hinted that something wonderful was going
to happen. For a few seconds they heard a sound of rustling and
scrambling, and when the signal came to uncover their eyes, they
found their father swaying far up on the topmost branches, play-
ing the good fairy of the wood and raining nuts down upon them.
It is easy to picture the end of that happy day when the chil-
dren would gather around their father to listen to his stories.
His endless supply of stories differed from the fairy tales in
books. Night after night the same group sat around the fire, and
night after night " father " had a new story to tell. The children
did not know that Hawthorne was really trying an experiment.
If he had failed, the boys and girls of to-day might not have had
the " Wonder Book " and " Tanglewood Tales," but happily he
did not fail.
When Hawthorne was a boy, the names of Ceres, Pluto, Mer-
136
TO JULIAN AND UNA HAWTHORNE 1 37
cury, or Ulysses were seldom heard in the nursery. To be sure,
the fathers and mothers knew about these strange people of myths
and legends, but it did not occur to them to tell the children of
Jason's search for the Golden Fleece, nor to describe how Pluto
carried away Proserpine in his chariot. It was left to Hawthorne
to bring all those fascinating tales into the nursery and school-
room. He once spoke of the stories in this way : ■ —
"• It is a wonder to me that they have not long ago been put
into picture-books for little boys and girls. But instead of that,
old gray-bearded grandsires pour over them in musty volumes of
Greek and puzzle themselves with trying to find out when and
how and for what they were made."
After pubHshing the " Wonder Book," Mr. Hawthorne received
so many letters from children urging him to write more stories
that he answered by giving the world '' Tanglewood Tales."
Una was only four years old when her father wrote her the
following letter. We can easily imagine the sort of letters she
had sent him.
Salem, June 7th, 1848.
My dear little Una, — I have been very much pleased
with the letters which you have sent me ; and I am
glad to find that you do not forget me, for I think of
you a great deal. I bring home a great many beauti-
ful flowers, roses and poppies and lilies and harebells
and pinks and many more besides, but it makes me
feel sad to think that my little Una cannot see them.
Your dolly wants to see you very much. She sits up
in my study all day long, and has no one to talk with.
I try to make her as comfortable as I can, but she
138 TO JULIAN AND UNA HAWTHORNE
does not seem to be in very good spirits. She has
been quite good, and has grown very pretty since you
went away.
" It should perhaps be explained that the splendor of dolly's
complexion was the result of Mr. Hawthorne's practice upon her
with his wife's palette and brushes. He often used to amuse
himself and the children by painting little faces for them."
Aunt Louisa and Dora are going to make her a new
gown and a new bonnet. I hope you are a good little
girl and are kind to your little brother. . . . You must
not trouble Mamma but must do all you can to help
her. . . . Do not you wish to come home and see me .-'
I think we shall be very happy when you come, for I
am sure you will be a good little girl. Good-by.
Your affectionate
Father.
Julian, who is mentioned in the next letter, was Una's brother.
Liverpool, Mar. 19th, 1856.
My dearest Una, — In answer to your criss-crossed
note, I write you a very few words and thank you
very much for your kind and agreeable correspond-
ence. You write very nice letters and Julian and I
are always greatly interested in them. He cannot
puzzle out the meaning of them by himself and I
always have the pleasure of reading them over at
least twice, first to myself and afterwards to him. . . .
TO JULIAN AXD UNA HAWTHORNE 1 39
Julian has lately got acquainted with a gentleman
named Dr. Archer and with some nice little daughters
of his. Dr. Archer is very fond of natural history
and he has given Julian a good many shells and a
little book describing them, so that Julian is growing
more learned than ever about shells. He means to
spend all his money in purchasing them.
Dr. Archer also shows him things through the
microscope, and among other things, the wing of a
fly, which looked as big as the wing of a goose.
Tell Rosebud that I love her very much. She is
the best little girl in the world, is she not .-' Does
she ever get out of humor } Tell her that I wish
very much to know whether she always behaves
prettily as a young lady ought. Is she kind to Nurse }
Your Loving Father.
Here are two letters written by Mrs. Hawthorne to her son
Julian, when he was with his father in Liverpool.
Lisbon, Pate de Geraldes,
October 26, 1885.
My darling boy, — Your letter delighted me ex-
tremely. It was very well expressed and spelt pretty
well. I am sure you cannot help being happy with
papa and I should think it would be a great encourage-
ment to be good in his society. You must confide to
him all your heart and life so as not to be shut up and
I40 TO JULIAN AND UNA HAWTHORNE
alone. You will find him ready to sympathize always
with you and his wisdom and experience will help you
to do and to judge rightly. We have not been very gay
at the Pateo ; but the other evening I went to the opera
— and I saw a beautiful ballet. It was as beautiful as
the pantomine you saw in Liverpool, " The Butterfly
Ball," but different. It was all about flowers ; each
fairy was a flower; and the music was so wonderfully
delicate and blossomy that I think we all felt as if we
were flowers tossing in a soft wind. It was Hke
audible flowers, summer breezes, and bird songs all
blended together in a delicious bouquet of sound.
In a few days it will be a hundred years since the
great earthquake in Lisbon and there is to be a cen-
tennial celebration. If anything is done worth describ-
ing I will write you about it. From the windows on
the east side of this house we can see the deep valley
that was made by the swallowing up of part of the city.
It is now the modern part and built up very statetily
with straight 'streets crossing each other on a plain
while the rest of Lisbon is all up and down hill in a
picturesque style but tiresome for walking. Good-
night ; be good and God bless you.
Your Affectionate Mamma.
P.S. When you see any spots on your clothes be
sure and ask some one to wash them off for you.
TO JULIAN AND UNA HAWTHORNE I4I
I believe I have not told you that the late Imen
Dona Maria II was so enormous in size that her
body was entirely too large to go through the great
door of the royal burial vault. Do you not hope that
your little Mamma will not roll home to England in a
spherical form ? But no ! I cannot grow stouter
while you and papa are a thousand miles away from
me. It is impossible to be jolly unless we are all
together. Tell papa I wish he would send poor me a
photograph of you and of himself. It would be such
a solace. Good-by.
Your own Mamma.
Story Letters
from
Lewis Carroll
In Wonderland there once li\ed a little boj' named Charles
Lutwidge Dodgson. To be sure, he lived with his father and
mother and ten brothers and sisters on a beautiful farm in Eng-
land, but so much of his playtime was spent in Wonderland, with
Alice and the Duchess, that it is safe to say he lived there.
Although the Dodgson farm was far from people, the children
were always happy. They invented their own games and made
their own toys. Charles was a clever trickster, and he thrilled
and amazed his brothers and sisters by his sleight of hand.
With perhaps a little help from his sisters in the matter of cos-
tumes, he made a troupe of marionettes and a toy theater. He
wrote all the plays himself, and no doubt many of the scenes
were true pictures of life in Wonderland.
When Charles became a man, he took for his nom de plume ^
"Lewis Carroll."
^ Nom de plume means " name of the pen." Writers often have a
name that they use to sign their writings.
For instance, " Lewis Carroll " was only the pen name of Charles
Dodgson.
When Dickens first began to write he signed his stories, " Boz,"
and Sir Walter Scott wrote for many years under the nom de plume
of " Waverley."
Before steel pens were used, people wrote with quill pens, cut from
goose quills. Often feathers were left on the handles, so it is-easy to
trace the meaning of the French word "plume " and understand that
it means " pen."
142
STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL 143
Although he was a grave mathematician and wrote serious
books, he had many child friends. He once said that the chil-
dren he knew were three-fourths of his life.
"Te'l us a story," pleaded three little girls one day when
Lewis Carroll had taken them for a row on the river. The day
was very warm, so they landed, and while resting in the cool
shade of the trees, he told them the story of " Alice in Wonder-
land."
That was a fortunate excursion for us who love Alice, and we
may think of the Fourth of July as being her birthday, for it was
on that day that the story was told for the first time.
Grown people heard of it, and for the sake of children all over
the world they begged Lewis Carroll to write the story. He did
so, and in 1865 ''Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" was pub-
lished.
One of the first letters that Lewis Carroll ever received was
from his mother. He considered it very precious, and being
afraid that the other children might tear or lose it. he wrote on
the envelope, " No one is to touch this note. It belongs to
C. L. D. Covered with slimy pitch, so that it will wet their fingers."
Lewis Carroll's letters are different from those that most people
write.
Here is one that must have made the little friend to whom it
was written glad of her long name : —
Christ Church, Oxford,
March 8, 1880.
My dear Ada, — (Isn't that your short name.?
Adelaide is all very well, but when one is dreadfully
busy, one hasn't time to write such long words —
particularly when it takes one-half an hour to remem-
ber how to spell it — and even then one has to go
144 STOKY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL
and get a dictionary to see if one has spelt it right,
and of course the dictionary is in another room, at
the top of a high bookcase — where it has been for
months and months, and has got all covered with
dust — so one has to get a duster, first of all, and
nearly choke oneself in dusting it, and when one has
made out at last which is dictionary and which is
dust, even then one has the job of remembering
which end of the alphabet " a " comes, for one feels
pretty certain it isn't in the middle. Then one has to
go and wash one's hands before turning over the
leaves, for they've got so thick with dust one hardly
knows them by sight, and as likely as not the soap
is lost and the jug is empty and there's no towel, and
one has to spend hours and hours in finding things,
and perhaps after all one has to go off to the shop to
buy a new cake of soap ; so with all this bother I do
hope you won't mind my writing it short, and saying
"My dear Ada.")
You said in your last letter that you would like a
likeness of me ; so here it is, and I hope you will like
it. I won't forget to call the next time but one I'm in
Wallington.
Your very affectionate friend,
Lewis Carroll.
STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL 145^
Lewis Carroll spent many summers at a seaside place in the
Isle ofWight. It was there that he made friends with the little
girl to whom this letter was written : —
Christ Church. Oxford,
July 21, 1876.
My dear Gertrude, — Explain to me how I am to
enjoy Sandown without you. How can I walk on
the beach alone .-' How can I sit alone on those
wooden steps .'' So you see, as I shan't be able to do
without you, you will have to come. If Violet comes
I shall tell her to invite you to stay with her, and then
I shall come over in the Heather Bell to fetch you.
If I ever do come over, I see I couldn't go back
the same day, so you will have to engage a bed for
me somewhere in Swanage ; and if you can't find one,
I shall expect you to spend the night on the beach,
and give up your room to me. Guests, of course,
must be thought of before children ; and I'm sure in
these warm nights the beach will be quite good
enough for you. If you did feel a little chilly, of
course you could go into a bathing machine, which
every one knows is very comfortable to sleep in, —
you know they make the floor of soft wood on pur-
pose. I send you seven kisses (to last a week) and
remain,
Your loving friend,
Lewis Carroll.
146 STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL
Lewis Carroll could scarcely write a letter without telling a
story too. Here are some letters that he wrote to his little
friends : —
My Dear Birdie, — I met her just outside Tom
Gate, walking very stiffly, and I think she was trying
to find her way to my rooms. So I said, "Why have
you come here without Birdie ? " So she said,
" Birdie's gone ! and Emily's gone ! and Mabel isn't
kind to me ! " And two little waxy tears came run-
ning down her cheeks.
Why, how stupid of me ! I've never told you
who it was all the time ! It was your new doll. I
was very glad to see her, and I took her to my room,
and gave her some vesta matches to eat, and a cup
of nice melted wax to drink, for the poor little thing
was very hungry and thirsty after her long walk.
So I said, " Come and sit down by the fire, and let's
have a comfortable chat." " Oh, no ! no ! " she said,
" I'd much rather not. You know I do melt so very
easily!" And she made me take her quite to the
other side of the room, where it was very cold ; and
then she sat on my knee, and fanned herself with a
penwiper, because she said she was afraid the end
of her nose was beginning to melt.
"You've no idea how careful we have to be, we
dolls," she said. " Why, there was a sister of. mine,
— would you believe it ? — she went up to the fire to
STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL I47
warm her hands, and one of her hands dropped right
off ! There now! " " Of course it dropped right off,"
I said, " because it was the right hand." "And how do
you Know it was the right hand, Mister Carroll ? "
the doll said. So I said, " I think it must have been
the right hand because the other hand was left."
The doll said, " I shan't laugh. It's a very bad
joke. Why, even a common wooden doll could make
a better joke than that. And besides, they've made
my mouth so stiff and hard, that I can't laugh if I
try ever so much ! " " Don't be cross about it," I said,
"but tell me this: I'm going to give Birdie and the
other children one photograph each, whichever they
choose ; which do you think Birdie will choose .<' " " I
don't know," said the doll ; " you'd better ask her ! "
So I took her home in a hansom cab. . . . Your
affectionate friend,
Lewis Carroll.
7 LusHiNGTON Road, Eastbourne,
September 17, 1892.
Oh, you naughty, naughty little culprit ! If
only I could fly to Fulham with a handy httle stick
(ten feet long and four inches thick is my favorite
size), how I would rap your wicked little knuckles.
However, there isn't much harm done, so I will
sentence you to a very mild punishment — only one
148 STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL
year's imprisonment. If you'll just tell the Fulham
policeman about it, he'll manage all the rest for you,
and he'll fit you with a nice pair of handcuffs, and
lock you up in a nice cozy cell, and feed you on nice
dry bread, and delicious cold water.
But how badly you do spell your words ! I was
so puzzled about the " sacks full of love and baskets
full of kisses ! " But at last I made out why, of
course, you meant a " sack full of gloves, and a basket
full of kittens ! " Then I understood what you were
sending me. And just then Mrs. Dyer came to tell
me a large sack and a basket had come. There was
such a miawing in the house, as if all the cats in
Eastbourne had come to see me ! " Oh, just open
them, please, Mrs. Dyer, and count the things in
them ! "
So in a few minutes Mrs. Dyer came and said,
" 500 pairs of gloves in the sack and 250 kittens in
the basket."
" Dear me ! That makes 1000 gloves ! Four
times as many gloves as kittens ! It's very kind of
Maggie, but why did she send so many gloves } For
I haven't got 1000 hands, you know, Mrs. Dyer."
And Mrs. Dyer said, " No, indeed, you're 998
hands short of that ! "
However the next day I made out what to do, and
I took the basket with me and walked off to the
STOKY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL 149
parish school — the girls' school, you know — and I
said to the mistress, " How many little girls are there
at school to-day ? "
" Exactly 250, sir."
" And have they all been very good all day ? "
" As good as gold, sir."
So I waited outside the door with my basket, and
as each little girl came out, I just popped a soft little
kitten into her hands ! Oh, what joy there was !
The little girls went all dancing home, nursing their
kittens, and the whole air was full of inirring ! Then,
the next morning, I went to the school, before it
opened, to ask the little girls how the kittens had
behaved in the night. And they all arrived sobbing
and crying, and their faces and hands were all
covered with scratches, and they had the kittens
wrapped up in their pinafores to keep them from
scratching any more. And they sobbed out, " The
kittens have been scratching us all night."
So then I said to myself, " What a nice little
girl Maggie is. Now I see why she sent all those
gloves, and why there are four times as many
gloves as kittens ! " and I said loud to the little
girls, " Never mind, my dear children, do your les-
sons very nicely, and don't cry any more, and when
school is over, you'll find me at the door, and you
shall see what you shall see ! "
I50 STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL
So, in the evening, when the Httle girls came
running out, with the kittens still wrapped up in
their pinafores, there was I, at the door, with a big
sack! And, as each little girl came out, I just
popped into her hand two pairs of gloves ! And
each little girl unrolled her pinafore and took out
an angry little kitten, spitting and snarling, with
its claws sticking out like a hedgehog. But it
hadn't time to scratch, for in a moment, it found
all its four claws popped into nice soft warm gloves !
And then the kittens got quite sweet-tempered and
gentle, and began purring again !
So the little girls went dancing home again, and
the next morning they came dancing back to school.
The scratches were all healed, and they told me :
" The kittens have been good ! " And, when any
kitten wants to catch a mouse, it just takes off one
of its gloves ; and if it wants to catch two mice,
it takes off two gloves ; and if it wants to catch three
mice, it takes off three gloves; and if it wants to
catch four mice, it takes off all its gloves. But
the moment they've caught the mice they pop their
gloves on again, because they know we can't love
them without their gloves. For, you see, " gloves "
have got "love" inside them — there's none out-
:4ide !
So all the little girls said, " Please thank Maggie,
STORY LETTERS FROM LEWIS CARROLL 151
and we send her 250 loves and 1000 kisses in re-
turn for her 250 kittens and her 1000 gloves ! "
Your loving old Uncle,
C. L. D.
Love and kisses to Nellie and Emsie.
The following is called. "• The Looking Glass Letter." Per-
haps we shall enjoy it better if we read it backwards.
Nov. I, 1891.
C. L. D., Uncle loving your ! Instead grandson
his to it give to had you that so, years 80 or 70 for
it forgot you that was it pity a what and : him of
fond so were you wonder don't I and, gentlemen old
nice very a was he. For it made you that him been
have must it see you so : grandfather my was, then
alive was that, " Dodgson Uncle " only the. Born was
I before long was that, see you, then But. " Dodgson
Uncle for pretty thing some make I'll now," it began
you when, yourself to said you that, me telling her
without, knew I course of and : ago years many great
a it made had you said she. Me told Isa what from
was it.'' For meant was it who out made I how know
you do ! Lasted has it well how and. Grandfather
my for made had you macassar-Anti pretty that me
give to you of nice so was it, Nellie dear viy.
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