P. S. Cousin Joe has sent me a smelling-bottle, a little gilt one he
brought home, that’s got ninety-four different smells in it. Mother is
writing you a note. She says you can’t dance on her carpet. Father says
he’s sorry he didn’t learn the graces, and means to when you come again.
We can dance in the barn. Tommy has just come in. He says he knows his B
A C’s. He’s a funny boy. He means A B C’s. But he always gets the horse
before the cart. One day we tried to make conundrums, and Georgiana made
this,--see if you can answer it: Which is best, to have plum-cake for
supper and only have a little mite of a piece, or cookies, and have as
many as you want?
Georgiana’s kitty has just jumped over the fence. She’s after my
morning-glories again. Just as fast as I fasten ’em up, she goes to
playing with the strings and claws ’em down again. Lucy Maria drew a
picture of her doing it.