Your son,
B. Allen.
Palm Beach, Fla., January.
My Very Dear Child: Papa and I are much pleased with your effort at French letter-writing, you spell as the words are pronounced, but you will soon learn to correct that. Don't forget accents. They are as important as letters in writing French. I enclose two dollars for the sugar.
Papa is improving in health and spirits in this delightful climate. I am writing at an open window, with the odor of roses and Jessamine wafting into my room.
Dearest make good use of your time. Papa is particularly anxious about your arithmetic, and you know that's your weak point. We are so pleased with the "gold certificate," it proves you are doing your best. Pardon the brevity of this letter, Papa is waiting for me to go and watch the alligators sporting in the water, but we won't let them get a bite at us.
Your loving mother,
M. Allen.
P. S.—I should not have said "sporting," for alligators are sluggish beasts, but often may be seen in the mud in clusters, a tail-switching, or a head raised, on the watch for prey.