Dear Mother,--I am safely here. Mydress was not much tumbled and AuntJane helped me press it out. I like Mr.
Cobb very much. He chews but throwsnewspapers straight up to the doors. I rode outside alittle while, but got inside before I got to AuntMiranda's house. I did not want to, but thoughtyou would like it better. Miranda is such a longword that I think I will say Aunt M. and Aunt J. inmy Sunday letters. Aunt J. has given me adictionary to look up all the hard words in. It takesa good deal of time and I am glad people can talkwithout stoping to spell. It is much eesier to talkthan write and much more fun. The brick houselooks just the same as you have told us. The parleris splendid and gives you creeps and chills when youlook in the door. The furnature is ellergant too, andall the rooms but there are no good sitting-downplaces exsept in the kitchen. The same cat is herebut they do not save kittens when she has them,and the cat is too old to play with. Hannah toldme once you ran away with father and I can see itwould be nice. If Aunt M. would run away I thinkI should like to live with Aunt J. She does not hateme as bad as Aunt M. does. Tell Mark he can havemy paint box, but I should like him to keep the redcake in case I come home again. I hope Hannahand John do not get tired doing my chores.
Your afectionate friendRebecca.
P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John becausehe likes my poetry even when it is not very good.
This piece is not very good but it is true but I hopeyou won't mind what is in it as you ran away.
This house is dark and dull and dreerNo light doth shine from far or nearIts like the tomb.
And those of us who live hereinAre most as dead as serrafimThough not as good.
My gardian angel is asleepAt leest he doth no vigil keepAh I woe is me!
Then give me back my lonely farmWhere none alive did wish me harmDear home of youth!
P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in abook but could not get it right at first. You see"tomb" and "good" do not sound well together butI wanted to say "tomb" dreadfully and as serrafimare always "good" I couldn't take that out. Ihave made it over now. It does not say my thoughtsas well but think it is more right. Give the best oneto John as he keeps them in a box with his birds'
eggs. This is the best one.
SUNDAY THOUGHTSBYREBECCA ROWENA RANDALLThis house is dark and dull and drearNo light doth shine from far or nearNor ever could.
And those of us who live hereinAre most as dead as seraphimThough not as good.
My guardian angel is asleepAt least he doth no vigil keepBut far doth roam.
Then give me back my lonely farmWhere none alive did wish me harm,Dear childhood home!
Dear Mother,--I am thrilling with unhappynessthis morning. I got that out of Cora TheDoctor's Wife whose husband's mother was verycross and unfealing to her like Aunt M. to me. Iwish Hannah had come instead of me for it wasHannah that was wanted and she is better thanI am and does not answer back so quick. Arethere any peaces of my buff calico. Aunt J. wantsenough to make a new waste button behind so Iwont look so outlandish. The stiles are quite prettyin Riverboro and those at Meeting quite ellergantmore so than in Temperance.