Lucy Maria keeps telling me that I promised to write you a letter, but I
wish I hadn’t promised to write you one, because I don’t like to write
letters very well, for I can’t think of anything to write. But Lucy
Maria she likes to, and that would do just as well as for me to. But
mother says I ought to often, so as to get me in the habit of it. I
don’t have very much time to write very long letters, for the girls are
getting up a Fair, and I am helping do the old woman in her shoe, and
gentlemen’s pincushions, and presents for the arrow table, where the
arrow swings round and points to your present, and so I don’t get very
much time between schools. For we have to write compositions every week
now, and all the girls think the teacher is just as mean as he can be to
make us. We want he should take off some of the compositions and put
more on to our other lessons; but no. He thinks ’t is the best thing we
can do. He don’t care about anything else, I believe. Susie Snow says
she believes he’s all made up of composition. Our next subject is
“Economy” and we’ve got to put in time wasted, and health wasted, and
money wasted. Susie Snow is going to put in hers that girls should never
waste their time writing compositions.
I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in
a sandy desert, I believe. But she don’t have to go to school. Hannah
Jane hasn’t got home from Aunt Matilda’s yet. The minister and his wife
and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond
of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe
brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. ’T is very pleasant
weather. I wish you’d come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are
thick as spatters, and I don’t have much time. The dog stepped on my
sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven’t come up. Father says I better
go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache,
that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that’s in the
Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up
four times, and I’ve brought it in the house and stuck it in a
cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because ’t was used to
pepper at home, but I can’t tell what he means and what he don’t, he
funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to.
O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But ’t is quite bad news. It
happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us
cried. I couldn’t help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the
one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till ’t was big
enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating
supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy
hadn’t got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was.
Father said he didn’t doubt he’d gone to find his turtle. He had a
turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he’d have to
have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep
things about for him when he don’t come straight home to his meals. He’d
rather play than eat. ’T is only a little school he goes to. Not very
far off. Five scholars, that’s all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell
about our cow.
We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn’t think what the matter
was. ’T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard,
crying and hollering both together, “Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!” Much
as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what ’t was, for he
knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and
Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow!
She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises,
and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper
in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn’t do anything.
“Rails! rails!” they all called out, and we pulled them out of the
fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft
she sank in so they couldn’t do anything with her. Much as they could do
to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a rotten rail, and it
broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two
canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to
go get some boards. There weren’t any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade’s
new house, and that was too far off, and father said ’t was too late,
for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. ’Most all the women and
girls came away then, for we couldn’t bear to stay any longer to see her
suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes
looked very mournful.
In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got
her up, but not soon enough. She’s buried now, under the poplar-tree, in
that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed
to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana
about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn’t the best
breed, but she’s part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not
very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent.
Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart,
that don’t hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to
have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can’t screw her
courage up, and can’t take the time. Your father says he wants to see
her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she
might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy’s trousers,
that would be natural. He’s always making barn-doors in his trousers,
he’s such a climbing fellow.
L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and father’s going to make
up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told
us about, and I’m going to be a music teacher, I guess. I’m going to
begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a
mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha’ n’t I be glad! But Susie Snow
says I shall sing another tune after I’ve taken a little while. Father
says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to
practise two hours a day. I’d just as soon promise that as not. ’T is
just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house.
Seems if I couldn’t believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew
how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now,
William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as
possible.
From your affectionate Cousin,