This house is dark and dull and drear
No light doth shine from far or near
Nor ever could.
And those of us who live herein
Are most as dead as seraphim
Though not as good.
My guardian angel is asleep
At least he doth no vigil keep
But far doth roam.
Then give me back my lonely farm
Where none alive did wish me harm,
Dear childhood home!
Dear Mother,--I am thrilling with unhappyness this morning. I
got that out of Cora The Doctor's Wife whose husband's mother
was very cross and unfealing to her like Aunt M. to me. I
wish Hannah had come instead of me for it was Hannah that was
wanted and she is better than I am and does not answer back
so quick. Are there any peaces of my buff calico. Aunt J.
wants enough to make a new waste button behind so I wont look
so outlandish. The stiles are quite pretty in Riverboro and
those at Meeting quite ellergant more so than in Temperance.
This town is stilish, gay and fair,
And full of wellthy riches rare,
But I would pillow on my arm
The thought of my sweet Brookside Farm.
School is pretty good. The Teacher can answer more questions
than the Temperance one but not so many as I can ask. I am
smarter than all the girls but one but not so smart as two
boys. Emma Jane can add and subtract in her head like a
streek of lightning and knows the speling book right through
but has no thoughts of any kind. She is in the Third Reader
but does not like stories in books. I am in the Sixth Reader
but just because I cannot say the seven multiplication Table
Miss Dearborn threttens to put me in the baby primer class
with Elijah and Elisha Simpson, little twins.
Sore is my heart and bent my stubborn pride,
With Lijah and with Lisha am I tied,
My soul recoyles like Cora Doctor's Wife,
Like her I feer I cannot bare this life.
I am going to try for the speling prize but fear I cannot get
it. I would not care but wrong speling looks dreadful in
poetry. Last Sunday when I found seraphim in the dictionary I
was ashamed I had made it serrafim but seraphim is not a word
you can guess at like another long one outlandish in this
letter which spells itself. Miss Dearborn says use the words
you CAN spell and if you cant spell seraphim make angel do
but angels are not just the same as seraphims. Seraphims are
brighter whiter and have bigger wings and I think are older
and longer dead than angels which are just freshly dead and
after a long time in heaven around the great white throne
grow to be seraphims.
I sew on brown gingham dresses every afternoon when Emma Jane
and the Simpsons are playing house or running on the Logs
when their mothers do not know it. Their mothers are afraid
they will drown and Aunt M. is afraid I will wet my clothes
so will not let me either. I can play from half past four to
supper and after supper a little bit and Saturday afternoons.
I am glad our cow has a calf and it is spotted. It is going
to be a good year for apples and hay so you and John will be
glad and we can pay a little more morgage. Miss Dearborn
asked us what is the object of edducation and I said the
object of mine was to help pay off the morgage. She told Aunt
M. and I had to sew extra for punishment because she says a
morgage is disgrace like stealing or smallpox and it will be
all over town that we have one on our farm. Emma Jane is not
morgaged nor Richard Carter nor Dr. Winship but the Simpsons
are.
Rise my soul, strain every nerve,
Thy morgage to remove,
Gain thy mother's heartfelt thanks
Thy family's grateful love.