IV

REBECCA'S POINT OF VIEW

Dear Mother,--I am safely here. My
dress was not much tumbled and Aunt
Jane helped me press it out. I like Mr.
Cobb very much. He chews but throws
newspapers straight up to the doors. I rode outside a
little while, but got inside before I got to Aunt
Miranda's house. I did not want to, but thought
you would like it better. Miranda is such a long
word that I think I will say Aunt M. and Aunt J. in
my Sunday letters. Aunt J. has given me a
dictionary to look up all the hard words in. It takes
a good deal of time and I am glad people can talk
without stoping to spell. It is much eesier to talk
than write and much more fun. The brick house
looks just the same as you have told us. The parler
is splendid and gives you creeps and chills when you
look in the door. The furnature is ellergant too, and
all the rooms but there are no good sitting-down
places exsept in the kitchen. The same cat is here
but they do not save kittens when she has them,
and the cat is too old to play with. Hannah told
me once you ran away with father and I can see it
would be nice. If Aunt M. would run away I think
I should like to live with Aunt J. She does not hate
me as bad as Aunt M. does. Tell Mark he can have
my paint box, but I should like him to keep the red
cake in case I come home again. I hope Hannah
and John do not get tired doing my chores.

Your afectionate friend

Rebecca.

P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John because
he likes my poetry even when it is not very good.
This piece is not very good but it is true but I hope
you won't mind what is in it as you ran away.

This house is dark and dull and dreer
No light doth shine from far or near
Its like the tomb.

And those of us who live herein
Are most as dead as serrafim
Though not as good.

My gardian angel is asleep
At leest he doth no vigil keep

Ah I woe is me!

Then give me back my lonely farm
Where none alive did wish me harm
Dear home of youth!

P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a
book but could not get it right at first. You see
"tomb" and "good" do not sound well together but
I wanted to say "tomb" dreadfully and as serrafim
are always "good" I couldn't take that out. I
have made it over now. It does not say my thoughts
as well but think it is more right. Give the best one
to John as he keeps them in a box with his birds'
eggs. This is the best one.


SUNDAY THOUGHTS

BY

REBECCA ROWENA RANDALL

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.

Pronounce family QUICK or it won't sound right.

Your loving little friend
Rebecca


Dear John,--You remember when we tide the
new dog in the barn how he bit the rope and
howled I am just like him only the brick house is
the barn and I can not bite Aunt M. because I
must be grateful and edducation is going to be the
making of me and help you pay off the morgage
when we grow up.

Your loving Becky.

****

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