Oh, who would be a mother!"
The letter was written in lines with two pernicious defects. 1st. They
were like the wooden part of a bow instead of its string. 2d. They
yielded to gravity--kept tending down, down, to the righthand corner
more and more. In the use of capitals the writer had taken the
copyhead as his model. The style, however, was pithy, and in writing
that is the first Christian grace--no, I forgot, it is the second;
pellucidity is the first.
"Dear mama, me and johnny
Cristmas are gone to the north
Pole his unkle went twise we
Shall be back in siks munths
Please give my love to lucy and
Papa and ask lucy to be kind to
My ginnipigs i shall want them
Wen i come back. too much
Cabiges is not good for ginnipigs.
Wen i come back i hope there
Will be no rise left. it is very
Unjust to give me those nasty
Messy pudens i am not a child
There filthy there abbommanabel.
Johny says it is funy at the north
Pole and there are bares
and they
Are wite.
"I remain
"Your duteful son
"Reginald George Bazalgette."
This innocent missive set house and premises in an uproar. Henry was
sent east through the dirt, _multa reluctantem,_ in white
stockings. Tom galloped north. Mrs. Bazalgette sat in the hall, and
did well-bred hysterics for Kenealy and Talboys. Lucy pinned up her
habit, and ran to the boundary hedge on the bare chance of seeing the
figures of the truants somewhere short of the horizon. Lo, and behold,
there was David Dodd crossing the very nearest field and coming toward
her, an urchin in each hand.
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