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Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,


     I have some awful, awful, awful news to tell you, but I won’t begin with it; I’ll try to get you in a good humor first.

     Jerusha Abbott has commenced to be an author.  A poem entitled “From My Tower” appears in the February Monthlyon the first page, which is a very great honor for  freshman.  My English instructor stopped me on the way out form chapel last night, and said it was a charming piece of work except for the sixth line, which had too many feet.  I will send you a copy in case you care to read it.

      Let me see if I can’t think of something else pleasantoh, yes!  I’m learning to skate, and can glide about quite respectably all by myself.  Also I’ve learned how to slide down a rope from the roof of the gymnasium. And I can vault a bar three feet and six inches highI hope shortly to pull up to four feet.

     We had a very inspiring sermon this morning preached by the Bishop of Alabama.  His text was; “Judge not that ye be not judged.’  It was about the necessity of overlooking mistakes in others, and not discouraging people by harsh judgments.  I wish you might have heard it.

     This is the sunniest. Most blinding winter afternoon. With icicles dripping from the fir trees and all the world bending under a weight of snowexcept me, and I’m bending under a eight of sorrow.

     Now for the newscourage, Judy!you must tell.

     Are you surely in a good humor?  I flunked mathematics and Latin prose.  I am tutoring in them, and will take another examination next month.  I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but otherwise I don’t care a bit because I’ve learned such a lot of things novels and bushels of poetryreally necessary novels like Vanity Fair and Richard Feverel and Alice in Wonderland.  Also Emerson’s Essays and Lockhart’s[(1794-1854)羅克哈特,蘇格蘭作家。] Life of Scott and the first volume of Gibbon’s[(1737-1794)吉薘,英國歷史學家。] Roman Empire and half of Benvenuto Cellini’s[(1500-1571)卻利尼,義大利雕塑家,著有自傳。] Lifewasn’t he entertaining?  He used to saunter out and casually kill a man before breakfast.

     So you seem Daddy, I’m much more intelligent that if I’d just stuck to Latin.  Will you forgive me this once if I promise never to flunk again?



Yours in sackcloth,