I wish I could think of some news to tell. Lucy Maria could get news in a sandy desert, I believe. But she don’t have to go to school. Hannah Jane hasn’t got home from Aunt Matilda’s yet. The minister and his wife and all his children have been here to spend the day. They are very fond of jelly. Mother gave them that tall gilt tumbler full, that Cousin Joe brought home from sea, with gilt flowers on it. ’T is very pleasant weather. I wish you’d come back and hoe my flower-garden, the weeds are thick as spatters, and I don’t have much time. The dog stepped on my sensitive plant. Some of my seeds haven’t come up. Father says I better go down after them. That Root of Bliss I set out, good for the headache, that Cousin Joe brought home from the island of Sumatra, that’s in the Mediterranean Sea, or else in the Indian Ocean, the hens scratched up four times, and I’ve brought it in the house and stuck it in a cigar-box. Father told me to shake pepper over it because ’t was used to pepper at home, but I can’t tell what he means and what he don’t, he funs so. Our new cow hooks down rails and goes where she wants to.
O Billy! now I can tell you some news. But ’t is quite bad news. It happened two weeks ago. We all felt very sorry about it, and some of us cried. I couldn’t help it. You know our cow that was named Reddie, the one we raised up from a bossy-calf with milk-porridge till ’t was big enough to eat grass? Well, she got in the bog. We were just eating supper. Georgiana was eating supper at our house that night. Tommy hadn’t got home from school, and we were all wondering where he was. Father said he didn’t doubt he’d gone to find his turtle. He had a turtle that got loose and ran away. Mother was just saying he’d have to have cold dip toast for his supper, for she makes it a rule not to keep things about for him when he don’t come straight home to his meals. He’d rather play than eat. ’T is only a little school he goes to. Not very far off. Five scholars, that’s all. Little bits of ones. But I must tell about our cow.
We began to hear a great screaming, and couldn’t think what the matter was. ’T was Tommy. And next thing he came running through the yard, crying and hollering both together, “Father! Father! Cow! Reddie!” Much as he could do to speak. Father knew in a minute what ’t was, for he knew she was pastured close to the bog, and he ran and we all ran, and Mr. Snow and some other men that found it out came with us. O poor cow! She was in more than half way up, and making dreadful moaning noises, and shook her head and tried to stir, but every stir made her go deeper in. Men and boys waded in, but they couldn’t do anything.
“Rails! rails!” they all called out, and we pulled them out of the fences and they tried to prise her up with them, but the bog was so soft she sank in so they couldn’t do anything with her. Much as they could do to keep up themselves. Mr. Snow was prising with a rotten rail, and it broke, and he went down in the wet. Old Mr. Slade, that goes with two canes, came there bareheaded and sat down on the bank. He told them to go get some boards. There weren’t any, any nearer than Mr. John Slade’s new house, and that was too far off, and father said ’t was too late, for she was in, then, up to the top of her back. ’Most all the women and girls came away then, for we couldn’t bear to stay any longer to see her suffer. She kept her nose pointed up high as she could, and her eyes looked very mournful.
In the morning father told me I should never see Reddie again. They got her up, but not soon enough. She’s buried now, under the poplar-tree, in that field we bought of Mr. Snow. She was a good, gentle cow, and seemed to know us. Mother says she seemed like one of the family. Georgiana about spoiled her new boots in the bog. Our new cow isn’t the best breed, but she’s part best. The cream is considerable yellow, but not very. She gives about eight or nine quarts. Milk has risen a cent. Mother declares she will not measure her milk in that new kind of quart, that don’t hold much over a pint. Lucy Maria and all of us are trying to have mother go get her picture taken. But she says she can’t screw her courage up, and can’t take the time. Your father says he wants to see her good clever face in a picture. Too bad blue eyes take light. But she might be taken looking down, Lucy Maria says, mending Tommy’s trousers, that would be natural. He’s always making barn-doors in his trousers, he’s such a climbing fellow.
L. M. and I have most earned money enough, and father’s going to make up the rest, and we are going to hire a cheap piano, that Mr. Fry told us about, and I’m going to be a music teacher, I guess. I’m going to begin next month. I shall take of Miss Ashley. I shall have to walk a mile. O goody! goody! dum, dum, dum! Sha’ n’t I be glad! But Susie Snow says I shall sing another tune after I’ve taken a little while. Father says if I begin to take I must go through. Says I must promise to practise two hours a day. I’d just as soon promise that as not. ’T is just what I like. Only think, I shall have a piano in this very house. Seems if I couldn’t believe it! I can play for you to dance. Wish I knew how to dance. Susie Snow has come after me to go take a walk. Now, William Henry, you must answer this letter just as immediately as possible.
From your affectionate Cousin,
Matilda.
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.
M.