At seven-thirty they came back for the President's reception and dance.Our functions commence early! We had the men's cards all made outahead of time, and after every dance, we'd leave them in groups, underthe letter that stood for their names, so that they could be readilyfound by their next partners. Jimmie McBride, for example, would standpatiently under 'M' until he was claimed. (At least, he ought to havestood patiently, but he kept wandering off and getting mixed with 'R's'and 'S's' and all sorts of letters.) I found him a very difficultguest; he was sulky because he had only three dances with me. He saidhe was bashful about dancing with girls he didn't know!
The next morning we had a glee club concert--and who do you think wrotethe funny new song composed for the occasion? It's the truth. Shedid. Oh, I tell you, Daddy, your little foundling is getting to bequite a prominent person!
Anyway, our gay two days were great fun, and I think the men enjoyedit. Some of them were awfully perturbed at first at the prospect offacing one thousand girls; but they got acclimated very quickly. Ourtwo Princeton men had a beautiful time--at least they politely saidthey had, and they've invited us to their dance next spring. We'veaccepted, so please don't object, Daddy dear.
Julia and Sallie and I all had new dresses. Do you want to hear aboutthem? Julia's was cream satin and gold embroidery and she wore purpleorchids. It was a DREAM and came from Paris, and cost a milliondollars.
Sallie's was pale blue trimmed with Persian embroidery, and wentbeautifully with red hair. It didn't cost quite a million, but wasjust as effective as Julia's.
Mine was pale pink crepe de chine trimmed with ecru lace and rosesatin. And I carried crimson roses which J. McB. sent (Sallie havingtold him what colour to get). And we all had satin slippers and silkstockings and chiffon scarfs to match.
You must be deeply impressed by these millinery details.
One can't help thinking, Daddy, what a colourless life a man is forcedto lead, when one reflects that chiffon and Venetian point and handembroidery and Irish crochet are to him mere empty words. Whereas awoman--whether she is interested in babies or microbes or husbands orpoetry or servants or parallelograms or gardens or Plato or bridge--isfundamentally and always interested in clothes.
It's the one touch of nature that makes the whole world kin. (Thatisn't original. I got it out of one of Shakespeare's plays).
However, to resume. Do you want me to tell you a secret that I'velately discovered? And will you promise not to think me vain? Thenlisten:
I'm pretty.
I am, really. I'd be an awful idiot not to know it with threelooking-glasses in the room.
A Friend
PS. This is one of those wicked anonymous letters you read about innovels.
20th December
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I've just a moment, because I must attend two classes, pack a trunk anda suit-case, and catch the four-o'clock train--but I couldn't gowithout sending a word to let you know how much I appreciate myChristmas box.
I love the furs and the necklace and the Liberty scarf and the glovesand handkerchiefs and books and purse--and most of all I love you! ButDaddy, you have no business to spoil me this way. I'm only human--anda girl at that. How can I keep my mind sternly fixed on a studiouscareer, when you deflect me with such worldly frivolities?
I have strong suspicions now as to which one of the John Grier Trusteesused to give the Christmas tree and the Sunday ice-cream. He wasnameless, but by his works I know him! You deserve to be happy for allthe good things you do.
Goodbye, and a very merry Christmas.
Yours always, Judy
PS. I am sending a slight token, too. Do you think you would like herif you knew her?
11th January
I meant to write to you from the city, Daddy, but New York is anengrossing place.
I had an interesting--and illuminating--time, but I'm glad I don'tbelong to such a family! I should truly rather have the John GrierHome for a background. Whatever the drawbacks of my bringing up, therewas at least no pretence about it. I know now what people mean whenthey say they are weighed down by Things. The material atmosphere ofthat house was crushing; I didn't draw a deep breath until I was on anexpress train coming back. All the furniture was carved andupholstered and gorgeous; the people I met were beautifully dressed andlow-voiced and well-bred, but it's the truth, Daddy, I never heard oneword of real talk from the time we arrived until we left. I don'tthink an idea ever entered the front door.
Mrs. Pendleton never thinks of anything but jewels and dressmakers andsocial engagements. She did seem a different kind of mother from Mrs.McBride! If I ever marry and have a family, I'm going to make them asexactly like the McBrides as I can. Not for all the money in the worldwould I ever let any children of mine develop into Pendletons. Maybeit isn't polite to criticize people you've been visiting? If it isn't,please excuse. This is very confidential, between you and me.
I only saw Master Jervie once when he called at tea time, and then Ididn't have a chance to speak to him alone. It was reallydisappointing after our nice time last summer. I don't think he caresmuch for his relatives--and I am sure they don't care much for him!Julia's mother says he's unbalanced. He's a Socialist--except, thankHeaven, he doesn't let his hair grow and wear red ties. She can'timagine where he picked up his queer ideas; the family have been Churchof England for generations. He throws away his money on every sort ofcrazy reform, instead of spending it on such sensible things as yachtsand automobiles and polo ponies. He does buy candy with it though! Hesent Julia and me each a box for Christmas.
You know, I think I'll be a Socialist, too. You wouldn't mind, wouldyou, Daddy? They're quite different from Anarchists; they don'tbelieve in blowing people up. Probably I am one by rights; I belong tothe proletariat. I haven't determined yet just which kind I am goingto be. I will look into the subject over Sunday, and declare myprinciples in my next.
I've seen loads of theatres and hotels and beautiful houses. My mindis a confused jumble of onyx and gilding and mosaic floors and palms.I'm still pretty breathless but I am glad to get back to college and mybooks--I believe that I really am a student; this atmosphere ofacademic calm I find more bracing than New York. College is a verysatisfying sort of life; the books and study and regular classes keepyou alive mentally, and then when your mind gets tired, you have thegymnasium and outdoor athletics, and always plenty of congenial friendswho are thinking about the same things you are. We spend a wholeevening in nothing but talk--talk--talk--and go to bed with a veryuplifted feeling, as though we had settled permanently some pressingworld problems. And filling in every crevice, there is always such alot of nonsense--just silly jokes about the little things that come upbut very satisfying. We do appreciate our own witticisms!
It isn't the great big pleasures that count the most; it's making agreat deal out of the little ones--I've discovered the true secret ofhappiness, Daddy, and that is to live in the now. Not to be for everregretting the past, or anticipating the future; but to get the mostthat you can out of this very instant. It's like farming. You canhave extensive farming and intensive farming; well, I am going to haveintensive living after this. I'm going to enjoy every second, and I'mgoing to KNOW I'm enjoying it while I'm enjoying it. Most people don'tlive; they just race. They are trying to reach some goal far away onthe horizon, and in the heat of the going they get so breathless andpanting that they lose all sight of the beautiful, tranquil countrythey are passing through; and then the first thing they know, they areold and worn out, and it doesn't make any difference whether they'vereached the goal or not. I've decided to sit down by the way and pileup a lot of little happinesses, even if I never become a Great Author.Did you ever know such a philosopheress as I am developing into?
Yours ever, Judy
PS. It's raining cats and dogs tonight. Two puppies and a kitten havejust landed on the window-sill.
Dear Comrade,
Hooray! I'm a Fabian.
That's a Socialist who's willing to wait. We don't want the socialrevolution to come tomorrow morning; it would be too upsetting. Wewant it to come very gradually in the distant future, when we shall allbe prepared and able to sustain the shock.
In the meantime, we must be getting ready, by instituting industrial,educational and orphan asylum reforms.
Yours, with fraternal love, Judy
Monday, 3rd hour
11th FebruaryDear D.-L.-L.,
Don't be insulted because this is so short. It isn't a letter; it'sjust a LINE to say that I'm going to write a letter pretty soon whenexaminations are over. It is not only necessary that I pass, but passWELL. I have a scholarship to live up to.
Yours, studying hard, J. A.
5th March
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
President Cuyler made a speech this evening about the modern generationbeing flippant and superficial. He says that we are losing the oldideals of earnest endeavour and true scholarship; and particularly isthis falling-off noticeable in our disrespectful attitude towardsorganized authority. We no longer pay a seemly deference to oursuperiors.
I came away from chapel very sober.
Am I too familiar, Daddy? Ought I to treat you with more dignity andaloofness?--Yes, I'm sure I ought. I'll begin again.
My Dear Mr. Smith,
You will be pleased to hear that I passed successfully my mid-yearexaminations, and am now commencing work in the new semester. I amleaving chemistry--having completed the course in qualitativeanalysis--and am entering upon the study of biology. I approach thissubject with some hesitation, as I understand that we dissectangleworms and frogs.
An extremely interesting and valuable lecture was given in the chapellast week upon Roman Remains in Southern France. I have never listenedto a more illuminating exposition of the subject.
We are reading Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey in connection with our coursein English Literature. What an exquisite work it is, and howadequately it embodies his conceptions of Pantheism! The Romanticmovement of the early part of the last century, exemplified in theworks of such poets as Shelley, Byron, Keats, and Wordsworth, appealsto me very much more than the Classical period that preceded it.Speaking of poetry, have you ever read that charming little thing ofTennyson's called Locksley Hall?
I am attending gymnasium very regularly of late. A proctor system hasbeen devised, and failure to comply with the rules causes a great dealof inconvenience. The gymnasium is equipped with a very beautifulswimming tank of cement and marble, the gift of a former graduate. Myroom-mate, Miss McBride, has given me her bathing-suit (it shrank sothat she can no longer wear it) and I am about to begin swimminglessons.
We had delicious pink ice-cream for dessert last night. Only vegetabledyes are used in colouring the food. The college is very much opposed,both from aesthetic and hygienic motives, to the use of aniline dyes.
The weather of late has been ideal--bright sunshine and cloudsinterspersed with a few welcome snow-storms. I and my companions haveenjoyed our walks to and from classes--particularly from.
Trusting, my dear Mr. Smith, that this will find you in your usual goodhealth,
I remain, Most cordially yours, Jerusha Abbott
24th April
Dear Daddy,
Spring has come again! You should see how lovely the campus is. Ithink you might come and look at it for yourself. Master Jerviedropped in again last Friday--but he chose a most unpropitious time,for Sallie and Julia and I were just running to catch a train. Andwhere do you think we were going? To Princeton, to attend a dance anda ball game, if you please! I didn't ask you if I might go, because Ihad a feeling that your secretary would say no. But it was entirelyregular; we had leave-of-absence from college, and Mrs. McBridechaperoned us. We had a charming time--but I shall have to omitdetails; they are too many and complicated.
Saturday
Up before dawn! The night watchman called us--six of us--and we madecoffee in a chafing dish (you never saw so many grounds!) and walkedtwo miles to the top of One Tree Hill to see the sun rise. We had toscramble up the last slope! The sun almost beat us! And perhaps youthink we didn't bring back appetites to breakfast!
Dear me, Daddy, I seem to have a very ejaculatory style today; thispage is peppered with exclamations.
I meant to have written a lot about the budding trees and the newcinder path in the athletic field, and the awful lesson we have inbiology for tomorrow, and the new canoes on the lake, and CatherinePrentiss who has pneumonia, and Prexy's Angora kitten that strayed fromhome and has been boarding in Fergussen Hall for two weeks until achambermaid reported it, and about my three new dresses--white and pinkand blue polka dots with a hat to match--but I am too sleepy. I amalways making this an excuse, am I not? But a girls' college is a busyplace and we do get tired by the end of the day! Particularly when theday begins at dawn.
Affectionately, Judy
15th May
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Is it good manners when you get into a car just to stare straight aheadand not see anybody else?
A very beautiful lady in a very beautiful velvet dress got into the cartoday, and without the slightest expression sat for fifteen minutes andlooked at a sign advertising suspenders. It doesn't seem polite toignore everybody else as though you were the only important personpresent. Anyway, you miss a lot. While she was absorbing that sillysign, I was studying a whole car full of interesting human beings.
The accompanying illustration is hereby reproduced for the first time.It looks like a spider on the end of a string, but it isn't at all;it's a picture of me learning to swim in the tank in the gymnasium.
The instructor hooks a rope into a ring in the back of my belt, andruns it through a pulley in the ceiling. It would be a beautifulsystem if one had perfect confidence in the probity of one'sinstructor. I'm always afraid, though, that she will let the rope getslack, so I keep one anxious eye on her and swim with the other, andwith this divided interest I do not make the progress that I otherwisemight.
Very miscellaneous weather we're having of late. It was raining when Icommenced and now the sun is shining. Sallie and I are going out toplay tennis--thereby gaining exemption from Gym.
A week later
I should have finished this letter long ago, but I didn't. You don'tmind, do you, Daddy, if I'm not very regular? I really do love towrite to you; it gives me such a respectable feeling of having somefamily. Would you like me to tell you something? You are not the onlyman to whom I write letters. There are two others! I have beenreceiving beautiful long letters this winter from Master Jervie (withtypewritten envelopes so Julia won't recognize the writing). Did youever hear anything so shocking? And every week or so a very scrawlyepistle, usually on yellow tablet paper, arrives from Princeton. Allof which I answer with business-like promptness. So you see--I am notso different from other girls--I get letters, too.
Did I tell you that I have been elected a member of the Senior DramaticClub? Very recherche organization. Only seventy-five members out ofone thousand. Do you think as a consistent Socialist that I ought tobelong?
What do you suppose is at present engaging my attention in soc
iology?I am writing (figurez vous!) a paper on the Care of Dependent Children.The Professor shuffled up his subjects and dealt them outpromiscuously, and that fell to me. C'est drole ca n'est pas?
There goes the gong for dinner. I'll post this as I pass the box.
Affectionately, J.
4th June
Dear Daddy,
Very busy time--commencement in ten days, examinations tomorrow; lotsof studying, lots of packing, and the outdoor world so lovely that ithurts you to stay inside.
But never mind, vacation's coming. Julia is going abroad thissummer--it makes the fourth time. No doubt about it, Daddy, goods arenot distributed evenly. Sallie, as usual, goes to the Adirondacks.And what do you think I am going to do? You may have three guesses.Lock Willow? Wrong. The Adirondacks with Sallie? Wrong. (I'll neverattempt that again; I was discouraged last year.) Can't you guessanything else? You're not very inventive. I'll tell you, Daddy, ifyou'll promise not to make a lot of objections. I warn your secretaryin advance that my mind is made up.
I am going to spend the summer at the seaside with a Mrs. CharlesPaterson and tutor her daughter who is to enter college in the autumn.I met her through the McBrides, and she is a very charming woman. I amto give lessons in English and Latin to the younger daughter, too, butI shall have a little time to myself, and I shall be earning fiftydollars a month! Doesn't that impress you as a perfectly exorbitantamount? She offered it; I should have blushed to ask for more thantwenty-five.