MARJORIE WRITES LETTERS
"October 28th, 19--
"MY OWN PRECIOUS MOTHER:
"The first letter must be to you, of course, and
the next to Aunt Jessie. Uncle Henry says if I
write now I can post my letter when we stop at
Albuquerque this afternoon. Oh, Mother darling,
was it only this morning that I said good-bye to
you all? It seems as if I had been away a month
already.
"I am writing this at the desk in the library car,
and the train shakes so I am afraid my writing
will be worse than ever. Uncle Henry says I shall
soon get accustomed to the motion, but just now it
makes my head ache, and the car feels very hot and
stuffy. I opened the window, but a great many
cinders came in, and a lady in the section next to
mine asked me to close it again, so I had to.
"I hope Father didn't tell you what a goose I was
at the station. I didn't mean to cry so much, but
when I thought of you and Aunt Jessie waving
good-bye to me from the porch, with such a
sorrowful look on both your dear faces, I just
couldn't help it. I am going to cheer up right
away, though, so please don't worry about me.
"It really was very exciting when the train
stopped at Lorton, and Uncle Henry and I got in.
When it began to move, and I realized that I was
actually on board, I gave a kind of gasp, and
would have liked to scream, if I hadn't been
afraid of shocking Uncle Henry. There are not many
people on the train, the colored porter says, and
Uncle Henry and I both have sections to ourselves.
I thought there would be regular beds to sleep in,
but there are not. The porter says they turn the
seats into beds at night, and there are curtains
to let down. I should think it would be very
uncomfortable sleeping so close to other people,
but I suppose one gets used to it when one has
traveled a good deal. Uncle Henry says Aunt Julia
won't travel unless she has a stateroom, but he
doesn't object to the sections. I looked into the
stateroom in this car, but it didn't look very
different from the sections, except that it was
larger and there was a place to wash.
"We had lunch at a little table in the dining-car.
It was delicious but my head ached a little, and I
wasn't very hungry. Uncle Henry talked politics
with a gentleman who sat at the same table with
us, but they didn't say much to me, so I looked
out of the window, and it was all very
interesting. We are in Mexico now, and to-morrow
we shall be in Kansas. Kansas makes me think of
Undine and Mrs. Hicks. Oh, how I do wonder if
Undine will ever remember!
"Uncle Henry says we shall be in Albuquerque in a
few minutes, so I must stop writing if I want to
post my letter there. Good-night, Mother darling;
I will write again to-morrow, and indeed, indeed,
I will try to remember all the things you said to
me last night, and to be always
"Your own loving
"MARJORIE."
"October 28th.
"DARLING AUNT JESSIE:
"I have been a whole night on the train, and when
I think of how far away from home we are, I can't
help being just a little frightened, though it is
all very interesting. I posted Mother's letter at
Albuquerque, where the train stopped half an hour.
Uncle Henry and I got out and walked up and down
the platform, and, oh, it was good to get a breath
of fresh air! I really didn't know that any place
could be quite so stuffy as this train. Everybody
seems afraid to have the windows open on account
of the cinders, but I think I should prefer even
cinders to stuffiness. There were some Indians
selling blankets and baskets, and a good many
people bought things. They crowded round us, and
made a good deal of fuss, and I heard one lady say
she was afraid of them. Just think of being afraid
of poor harmless Indians! I would have liked to
tell her how foolish she was, but was afraid Uncle
Henry might be displeased. I don't think he is a
very friendly person, for he hardly speaks to any
of the passengers on the train, and last night he
told me I talked too much to the black porter, who
was making up the sections. Oh, Aunt Jessie, it
was so curious to see him turning all the seats
into beds, but you have been on a sleeping car,
and know all about it.
"We had a very good dinner, which I enjoyed more
than lunch, because my head was better, and in the
evening we sat on the platform of the observation
car, and it was very pleasant. Uncle Henry was
kind, and talked to me a good deal--at least it
was a good deal for him. I asked him if he wasn't
very anxious to get home to see Aunt Julia and
Elsie, and he said of course he should be glad to
see them, but didn't seem nearly as excited as I
am sure Father would be about seeing us if he had
been away from us for three whole weeks. I think
Elsie must be very busy, for besides going to
school, she has music and German lessons in the
afternoons, and goes to a dancing class. Uncle
Henry said he hoped she and I would be good
friends, and I told him I was quite sure we
should. Imagine a girl not being good friends with
her own first cousin! Did you know we are to live
in a hotel all winter? Uncle Henry has a house on
Madison Avenue, but Aunt Julia is tired of
housekeeping, so he has rented it, and taken rooms
in a hotel instead. Uncle Henry calls the rooms an
apartment, and the name of the hotel is the
'Plaza.' It is on Fifth Avenue, and right opposite
the park, which must be very pretty. I should
think it would seem very queer to live in a house
with a lot of other people, but then the people
who live in hotels must have a great many friends.
"At about nine o'clock Uncle Henry said he was
sleepy, so we went back to our car, and that was
when I talked to the porter while he made up the
beds. I thought at first that I should never be
able to sleep; the train shook so, and we were
going so fast. It was hard work undressing behind
the curtain, but I managed somehow, and even had a
wash, though I had to hold on to the side of the
car with one hand while I washed my face with the
other. I did cry a little after I was in bed, but
I don't think any one heard. It was my very first
night away from home, you know, Aunt Jessie dear,
but I tried to remember all the lovely, comforting
things you and Mother said to me, and I think I
must have been pretty tired, for before I realized
I was getting sleepy I was sound asleep, and I
never opened my eyes till it was broad daylight.
"To-day we are in Kansas, and it is very flat, and
not at all pretty. Uncle Henry says we won't have
any more fine scenery till we get to the Hudson.
The train seems stuffier than ever, and I am just
pining for fresh air and exercise. We sat on the
observation platform for a while this morning, but
Uncle Henry didn't like the cinders, and wouldn't
let me stay there by myself, so we came back to
our car. I don't think traveling on a train is
quite as pleasant as I thought it was going to be.
I am sure I should like an automobile better. We
saw automobiles at Topeka, where we stopped for
ten minutes this morning, and they looked very
queer, going all by themselves, without any
horses, but I think I should like a ride in one.
Uncle Henry says Aunt Julia is afraid of
automobiles, so she still uses a carriage.
"I talked to some people in the observation car--a
lady and a little boy, who are going to
Chicago--but I think most of the passengers on
this train are rather unsociable. They don't talk
much to each other but just read magazines and
newspapers when they are awake, and take naps
about every hour. I have watched the two ladies in
the section opposite mine, and they have been
asleep at least four times to-day. I heard one of
them say she never could sleep on a train; wasn't
that funny?
"We can post letters from Kansas City, where we
are due at half past eight to-night, so I can send
this on from there. We get to Chicago to-morrow
morning, and have three hours there; won't that be
exciting? Oh, I do hope Uncle Henry will take me
for a good long walk! I feel as if I could tramp
ten miles.
"Good-bye, you precious Auntie! I send a thousand
hugs and kisses to everybody. Tell Undine not to
forget Roland's sugar--he always has three
lumps--and to be sure the kittens in the barn have
their milk every night and morning. I am afraid I
forgot to tell her about the kittens; there were
so many other things to think of. I am so glad you
and Mother have Undine; she is such a dear, and I
know will try to take my place. I will write to
Father and Mother after I have been in Chicago.
"From your own little niece,
"MARJORIE."
"October 30th.
"MY OWN PRECIOUS FATHER AND MOTHER:
"This letter is for you both, and Aunt Jessie must
have a share in it, too, because it is the last I
shall be able to write on the train.
"I didn't write at all yesterday, it was such an
exciting day! We got to Chicago at about noon,
and, oh, what a big, noisy, wonderful place it is!
I know I could never describe it if I tried for a
week, so I will just tell you what we did. It was
raining, which was a great disappointment to me,
but Uncle Henry didn't seem to mind. He said we
would take a taxi and go to the 'Blackstone' for
lunch. I had no idea what a taxi was, but didn't
like to ask and when Uncle Henry called one what
do you suppose it was? One of those wonderful
automobiles! I was a tiny bit scared when we first
got in, but when we started, and went rushing
through those crowded, noisy streets, I just loved
it.
"It didn't take us long to get to the
'Blackstone,' which is an enormous hotel, looking
out on the lake. The lake is wonderful; I never
saw so much water before, and though the fog was
thick, and we couldn't see very far, I should have
liked to stand and look at it for a long time, but
Uncle Henry said we must hurry. I never saw such a
wonderful place as the dining-room at the
'Blackstone.' There were quantities of little
tables, and men waiters to bring you what you
wanted. I thought the bill of fare on the train
was long enough to satisfy any one, but the one at
the 'Blackstone' was simply endless. Uncle Henry
told me to choose what I wanted, but there were so
many things I couldn't possibly choose, so he
ordered a nice lunch, and all the time we were
eating music was playing in a gallery overhead.
"After lunch Uncle Henry took another taxi, and
told the driver to show us the city. It was all
very interesting, but so noisy and confusing that
I got very tired looking at so many things at
once, and I was really rather glad when Uncle
Henry said it was time to go back to the station.
"This train is called the 'Chicago Special,' and
is even grander than the one we were on before. It
goes very fast, but doesn't swing so much, because
the road-bed is smoother, Uncle Henry says. I was
so tired last night that I went to bed right after
dinner, and never woke once till morning. We are
due in New York this afternoon, and Uncle Henry
says I had better post my letter in Albany,
because after we leave there he wants me to see
the Hudson, which I believe is very beautiful. So
good-bye, you dear precious people! Oh, how
anxious I am for my first letters from home! Don't
forget to tell me about every single little thing
that happens. I am thinking of you all every
minute, and if I were going to any other people
but Aunt Julia and Elsie I would be so unhappy.
But of course going to one's own aunt and cousin
is very different from being with strangers, and
Uncle Henry is really very kind. Oh, I do wonder
if Elsie is as much excited about meeting me as I
am about meeting her!
"Uncle Henry says we shall be in Albany in ten
minutes, so good-bye again, with oceans of love
from
"YOUR OWN MARJORIE."