We had a very inspiring sermon this morning preached by the Bishop of
Alabama. His text was: 'Judge not that ye be not judged.' It was
about the necessity of overlooking mistakes in others, and not
discouraging people by harsh judgments. I wish you might have heard it.
This is the sunniest, most blinding winter afternoon, with icicles
dripping from the fir trees and all the world bending under a weight of
snow--except me, and I'm bending under a weight of sorrow.
Now for the news--courage, Judy!--you must tell.
Are you SURELY in a good humour? I failed in mathematics and Latin
prose. I am tutoring in them, and will take another examination next
month. I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but otherwise I don't care a
bit because I've learned such a lot of things not mentioned in the
catalogue. I've read seventeen novels and bushels of poetry--really
necessary novels like Vanity Fair and Richard Feverel and Alice in
Wonderland. Also Emerson's Essays and Lockhart's Life of Scott and the
first volume of Gibbon's Roman Empire and half of Benvenuto Cellini's
Life--wasn't he entertaining? He used to saunter out and casually kill
a man before breakfast.
So you see, Daddy, I'm much more intelligent than if I'd just stuck to
Latin. Will you forgive me this once if I promise never to fail again?
Yours in sackcloth,
Judy
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
This is an extra letter in the middle of the month because I'm rather
lonely tonight. It's awfully stormy. All the lights are out on the
campus, but I drank black coffee and I can't go to sleep.
I had a supper party this evening consisting of Sallie and Julia and
Leonora Fenton--and sardines and toasted muffins and salad and fudge
and coffee. Julia said she'd had a good time, but Sallie stayed to
help wash the dishes.
I might, very usefully, put some time on Latin tonight but, there's no
doubt about it, I'm a very languid Latin scholar. We've finished Livy
and De Senectute and are now engaged with De Amicitia (pronounced Damn
Icitia).
Should you mind, just for a little while, pretending you are my
grandmother? Sallie has one and Julia and Leonora each two, and they
were all comparing them tonight. I can't think of anything I'd rather
have; it's such a respectable relationship. So, if you really don't
object--When I went into town yesterday, I saw the sweetest cap of
Cluny lace trimmed with lavender ribbon. I am going to make you a
present of it on your eighty-third birthday.
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
That's the clock in the chapel tower striking twelve. I believe I am
sleepy after all.