I'm not sure myself, but I think it's a missing link, like a bird
with teeth or a lizard with wings. No, it isn't either; I've just
looked in the book. It's a mesozoic mammal.
I've elected economics this year--very illuminating subject.
When I finish that I'm going to take Charity and Reform; then,
Mr. Trustee, I'll know just how an orphan asylum ought to be run.
Don't you think I'd make an admirable voter if I had my rights?
I was twenty-one last week. This is an awfully wasteful country to
throw away such an honest, educated, conscientious, intelligent citizen
as I would be.
Yours always,
Judy
7th December
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Thank you for permission to visit Julia--I take it that silence
means consent.
Such a social whirl as we've been having! The Founder's dance came
last week--this was the first year that any of us could attend;
only upper classmen being allowed.
I invited Jimmie McBride, and Sallie invited his room-mate
at Princeton, who visited them last summer at their camp--an awfully
nice man with red hair--and Julia invited a man from New York,
not very exciting, but socially irreproachable. He is connected
with the De la Mater Chichesters. Perhaps that means something
to you? It doesn't illuminate me to any extent.
However--our guests came Friday afternoon in time for tea in the
senior corridor, and then dashed down to the hotel for dinner.
The hotel was so full that they slept in rows on the billiard tables,
they say. Jimmie McBride says that the next time he is bidden
to a social event in this college, he is going to bring one of their
Adirondack tents and pitch it on the campus.
At seven-thirty they came back for the President's reception and dance.
Our functions commence early! We had the men's cards all made out
ahead of time, and after every dance, we'd leave them in groups,
under the letter that stood for their names, so that they could be
readily found by their next partners. Jimmie McBride, for example,
would stand patiently under `M' until he was claimed. (At least,
he ought to have stood patiently, but he kept wandering off
and getting mixed with `R's' and `S's' and all sorts of letters.)
I found him a very difficult guest; he was sulky because he had
only three dances with me. He said he was bashful about dancing
with girls he didn't know!
The next morning we had a glee club concert--and who do you think
wrote the funny new song composed for the occasion? It's the truth.
She did. Oh, I tell you, Daddy, your little foundling is getting
to be quite a prominent person!
Anyway, our gay two days were great fun, and I think the men enjoyed it.
Some of them were awfully perturbed at first at the prospect of
facing one thousand girls; but they got acclimated very quickly.
Our two Princeton men had a beautiful time--at least they politely
said they had, and they've invited us to their dance next spring.
We've accepted, so please don't object, Daddy dear.
Julia and Sallie and I all had new dresses. Do you want to hear
about them? Julia's was cream satin and gold embroidery and she
wore purple orchids. It was a DREAM and came from Paris, and cost
a million dollars.
Sallie's was pale blue trimmed with Persian embroidery, and went
beautifully with red hair. It didn't cost quite a million,
but was just as effective as Julia's.
Mine was pale pink crepe de chine trimmed with ecru lace and rose satin.
And I carried crimson roses which J. McB. sent (Sallie having told
him what colour to get). And we all had satin slippers and silk
stockings and chiffon scarfs to match.
You must be deeply impressed by these millinery details.
One can't help thinking, Daddy, what a colourless life a man is
forced to lead, when one reflects that chiffon and Venetian point
and hand embroidery and Irish crochet are to him mere empty words.
Whereas a woman--whether she is interested in babies or microbes
or husbands or poetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or
Plato or bridge--is fundamentally and always interested in clothes.
It's the one touch of nature that makes the whole world kin.
(That isn't original. I got it out of one of Shakespeare's plays).
However, to resume. Do you want me to tell you a secret that I've
lately discovered? And will you promise not to think me vain?
Then listen:
I'm pretty.
I am, really. I'd be an awful idiot not to know it with three
looking-glasses in the room.
A Friend
PS. This is one of those wicked anonymous letters you read about
in novels.
20th December
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I've just a moment, because I must attend two classes, pack a trunk
and a suit-case, and catch the four-o'clock train--but I couldn't
go without sending a word to let you know how much I appreciate
my Christmas box.
I love the furs and the necklace and the Liberty scarf and the gloves
and handkerchiefs and books and purse--and most of all I love you!
But Daddy, you have no business to spoil me this way. I'm only human--
and a girl at that. How can I keep my mind sternly fixed on a
studious career, when you deflect me with such worldly frivolities?
I have strong suspicions now as to which one of the John Grier
Trustees used to give the Christmas tree and the Sunday ice-cream.
He was nameless, but by his works I know him! You deserve to be
happy for all the good things you do.
Goodbye, and a very merry Christmas.
Yours always,
Judy
PS. I am sending a slight token, too. Do you think you would
like her if you knew her?
11th January
I meant to write to you from the city, Daddy, but New York
is an engrossing place.
I had an interesting--and illuminating--time, but I'm glad I don't
belong to such a family! I should truly rather have the John Grier
Home for a background. Whatever the drawbacks of my bringing up,
there was at least no pretence about it. I know now what people
mean when they say they are weighed down by Things. The material
atmosphere of that house was crushing; I didn't draw a deep breath
until I was on an express train coming back. All the furniture
was carved and upholstered and gorgeous; the people I met were
beautifully dressed and low-voiced and well-bred, but it's the truth,
Daddy, I never heard one word of real talk from the time we arrived
until we left. I don't think an idea ever entered the front door.
Mrs. Pendleton never thinks of anything but jewels and dressmakers
and social engagements. She did seem a different kind of mother from
Mrs. McBride! If I ever marry and have a family, I'm going to make them
as exactly like the McBrides as I can. Not for all the money in the
world would I ever let any children of mine develop into Pendletons.
Maybe it isn't polite to criticize people you've been visiting?
If it isn't, please excuse. This is very confidential, between you
and me.
I only saw Master Jervie once when he called at tea time,
and then I didn't have a chance to speak to him alone.
It was really disappointing after our nice time last summer.
I don't think he cares much for his relatives--and I am sure they
don't care much for him! Julia's mother says he's unbalanced.
He's a Socialist--except, thank Heaven, he doesn't let his hair grow
and wear red ties. She can't imagine where he picked up his queer ideas;
the family have been Church of England for generations. He throws
away his money on every sort of crazy reform, instead of spending it
on such sensible things as yachts and automobiles and polo ponies.
He does buy candy with it though! He sent Julia and me each a box
for Christmas.
You know, I think I'll be a Socialist, too. You wouldn't mind,
would you, Daddy? They're quite different from Anarchists;
they don't believe in blowing people up. Probably I am one by rights;
I belong to the proletariat. I haven't determined yet just which
kind I am going to be. I will look into the subject over Sunday,
and declare my principles in my next.
I've seen loads of theatres and hotels and beautiful houses.
My mind is a confused jumble of onyx and gilding and mosaic floors
and palms. I'm still pretty breathless but I am glad to get back
to college and my books--I believe that I really am a student;
this atmosphere of academic calm I find more bracing than New York.
College is a very satisfying sort of life; the books and study
and regular classes keep you alive mentally, and then when your
mind gets tired, you have the gymnasium and outdoor athletics,
and always plenty of congenial friends who are thinking about the
same things you are. We spend a whole evening in nothing but talk--
talk--talk--and go to bed with a very uplifted feeling, as though we
had settled permanently some pressing world problems. And filling
in every crevice, there is always such a lot of nonsense--just silly
jokes about the little things that come up but very satisfying.
We do appreciate our own witticisms!
It isn't the great big pleasures that count the most; it's making
a great deal out of the little ones--I've discovered the true
secret of happiness, Daddy, and that is to live in the now.
Not to be for ever regretting the past, or anticipating the future;
but to get the most that you can out of this very instant.
It's like farming. You can have extensive farming and intensive
farming; well, I am going to have intensive living after this.
I'm going to enjoy every second, and I'm going to KNOW I'm enjoying
it while I'm enjoying it. Most people don't live; they just race.
They are trying to reach some goal far away on the horizon, and in the
heat of the going they get so breathless and panting that they lose
all sight of the beautiful, tranquil country they are passing through;
and then the first thing they know, they are old and worn out,
and it doesn't make any difference whether they've reached the goal
or not. I've decided to sit down by the way and pile up a lot
of little happinesses, even if I never become a Great Author.
Did you ever know such a philosopheress as I am developing into?
Yours ever,
Judy
PS. It's raining cats and dogs tonight. Two puppies and a kitten
have just landed on the window-sill.
Dear Comrade,
Hooray! I'm a Fabian.
That's a Socialist who's willing to wait. We don't want the social
revolution to come tomorrow morning; it would be too upsetting.
We want it to come very gradually in the distant future, when we
shall all be prepared and able to sustain the shock.
In the meantime, we must be getting ready, by instituting industrial,
educational and orphan asylum reforms.
Yours, with fraternal love,
Judy
Monday, 3rd hour
11th February
Dear D.-L.-L.,
Don't be insulted because this is so short. It isn't a letter;
it's just a LINE to say that I'm going to write a letter pretty soon
when examinations are over. It is not only necessary that I pass,
but pass WELL. I have a scholarship to live up to.
Yours, studying hard,
J. A.
5th March
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
President Cuyler made a speech this evening about the modern
generation being flippant and superficial. He says that we are
losing the old ideals of earnest endeavour and true scholarship;
and particularly is this falling-off noticeable in our disrespectful
attitude towards organized authority. We no longer pay a seemly
deference to our superiors.
I came away from chapel very sober.
Am I too familiar, Daddy? Ought I to treat you with more dignity
and aloofness?--Yes, I'm sure I ought. I'll begin again.
My Dear Mr. Smith,
You will be pleased to hear that I passed successfully my mid-year
examinations, and am now commencing work in the new semester. I am
leaving chemistry--having completed the course in qualitative analysis--
and am entering upon the study of biology. I approach this subject with
some hesitation, as I understand that we dissect angleworms and frogs.
An extremely interesting and valuable lecture was given in the
chapel last week upon Roman Remains in Southern France. I have
never listened to a more illuminating exposition of the subject.
We are reading Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey in connection with our
course in English Literature. What an exquisite work it is,
and how adequately it embodies his conceptions of Pantheism!
The Romantic movement of the early part of the last century,
exemplified in the works of such poets as Shelley, Byron, Keats,
and Wordsworth, appeals to me very much more than the Classical
period that preceded it. Speaking of poetry, have you ever read
that charming little thing of Tennyson's called Locksley Hall?
I am attending gymnasium very regularly of late. A proctor
system has been devised, and failure to comply with the rules
causes a great deal of inconvenience. The gymnasium is equipped
with a very beautiful swimming tank of cement and marble, the gift
of a former graduate. My room-mate, Miss McBride, has given me
her bathing-suit (it shrank so that she can no longer wear it)
and I am about to begin swimming lessons.
We had delicious pink ice-cream for dessert last night.
Only vegetable dyes are used in colouring the food. The college
is very much opposed, both from aesthetic and hygienic motives,
to the use of aniline dyes.
The weather of late has been ideal--bright sunshine and clouds
interspersed with a few welcome snow-storms. I and my companions
have enjoyed our walks to and from classes--particularly from.
Trusting, my dear Mr. Smith, that this will find you in your usual
good health,
I remain,
Most cordially yours,
Jerusha Abbott
24th April
Dear Daddy,
Spring has come again! You should see how lovely the campus is.
I think you might come and look at it for yourself. Master Jervie
