10th August
Mr. Daddy-Long-Legs,
SIR: I address you from the second crotch in the willow tree by thepool in the pasture. There's a frog croaking underneath, a locustsinging overhead and two little 'devil downheads' darting up and downthe trunk. I've been here for an hour; it's a very comfortable crotch,especially after being upholstered with two sofa cushions. I came upwith a pen and tablet hoping to write an immortal short story, but I'vebeen having a dreadful time with my heroine--I CAN'T make her behave asI want her to behave; so I've abandoned her for the moment, and amwriting to you. (Not much relief though, for I can't make you behaveas I want you to, either.)
If you are in that dreadful New York, I wish I could send you some ofthis lovely, breezy, sunshiny outlook. The country is Heaven after aweek of rain.
Speaking of Heaven--do you remember Mr. Kellogg that I told you aboutlast summer?--the minister of the little white church at the Corners.Well, the poor old soul is dead--last winter of pneumonia. I went halfa dozen times to hear him preach and got very well acquainted with histheology. He believed to the end exactly the same things he startedwith. It seems to me that a man who can think straight along forforty-seven years without changing a single idea ought to be kept in acabinet as a curiosity. I hope he is enjoying his harp and goldencrown; he was so perfectly sure of finding them! There's a new youngman, very consequential, in his place. The congregation is prettydubious, especially the faction led by Deacon Cummings. It looks asthough there was going to be an awful split in the church. We don'tcare for innovations in religion in this neighbourhood.
During our week of rain I sat up in the attic and had an orgy ofreading--Stevenson, mostly. He himself is more entertaining than anyof the characters in his books; I dare say he made himself into thekind of hero that would look well in print. Don't you think it wasperfect of him to spend all the ten thousand dollars his father left,for a yacht, and go sailing off to the South Seas? He lived up to hisadventurous creed. If my father had left me ten thousand dollars, I'ddo it, too. The thought of Vailima makes me wild. I want to see thetropics. I want to see the whole world. I am going to be a greatauthor, or artist, or actress, or playwright--or whatever sort of agreat person I turn out to be. I have a terrible wanderthirst; thevery sight of a map makes me want to put on my hat and take an umbrellaand start. 'I shall see before I die the palms and temples of theSouth.'