The William Henry Letters

Anybody would think that your uncle Jacob had more money than he knew how to spend. He went to the city last week, and brought Georgiana home a pair of light blue French kid boots. He won't tell the price. They are high-heeled, very narrow-soled, and come up high. He saw them in the window of one of the grand stores, and thought he'd just step in and buy them for Georgie. Never thought of their coming so high. I'm speaking of the price. Now Georgie doesn't go to parties, and where the child can wear them, going through thick and thin, is a puzzler. She might to meeting, if she could be lifted out of the wagon and set down in the broad aisle, but Lucy Maria says that won't do, because her meeting dress is cherry-color. Next summer I shall get her a light blue barege dress to match 'em, for the sake of pleasing her uncle Jacob. When he heard us talking about her not going anywhere to wear such fancy boots, he said then she should wear them over to his house. So twice he has sent a billet in the morning, inviting her to come and take tea, and at the bottom he writes, ☞"Company expected to appear in blue boots." So I dress her up in her red dress, and the boots, and draw my plush moccasins over them, and pack her off. Uncle Jacob takes her things, and waits upon her to the table, and they have great fun out of it.

My dear Billy, I have been thinking about that boy that wears cinnamon-colored clothes. I do really hope you won't be so cruel as to laugh at a boy on account of his clothes. What a boy is, don't depend upon what he wears on his back, but upon what he has inside of his head and his heart. When I was a little girl and went to school in the old school-house, the Committee used to come, sometimes, to visit the school. One of the Committee was the minister. He was a very fine old gentleman, and a great deal thought of by the whole town. He used to wear a ruffled shirt, and a watch with a bunch of seals, and carry a gold-headed cane. He had white hair, and a mild blue eye, and a pleasant smile, that I haven't forgotten yet, though 't was a great many years ago. After we'd read and spelt, and the writing-books and ciphering-books had been passed round, the teacher always asked him to address the school. And there was one thing he used to say, almost every time. And he said it in such a smiling, pleasant way, that I've remembered it ever since. He used to begin in this way.

"I love little children. I love to come where they are. I love to hear them laugh, and shout. I love to watch them while they are at play. And because I love them so well, I don't want there should be anything bad about them. Just as when I watch a rosebud blooming; – I should be very sorry not to have it bloom out into a beautiful, perfect rose. And now, children, there are three words I want you all to remember. Only three. You can remember three words, can't you?"

"Yes, sir," we would say.

"Well, now, how long can you remember them?" he would ask, – "a week?"

"Yes sir."

"Two weeks?"

"Yes, sir."

"A month?"

"Yes, sir."

"A year?"

"Guess so."

"All your lives?"

Then some would say, "Yes, sir," and some would say they guessed not, and some didn't believe they could, and some knew they couldn't.

"Well, children," he would say at last, "now I will tell you what the three words are: Treat – everybody – well. Now what I want you to be surest to remember is 'everybody.' Everybody is a word that takes in a great many people, and a great many kinds of people, – takes in the washer-women and the old man that saws wood, and the colored folks that come round selling baskets, and the people that wear second-hand clothes, and the help in the kitchen, – takes in those we don't like and even the ones that have done us harm. 'Treat —everybody– well.' For you can afford to. A pleasant word don't cost anything to give, and is a very pleasant thing to take."

The old gentleman used to look so smiling while he talked. And he followed out his own rule. For he was just as polite to the poor woman that came to clean their paint as he was to any fine lady. He wanted to make us feel ashamed of being impolite to people who couldn't wear good clothes. Children and grown people too, he said, were apt to treat the ones best that wore the best clothes. He'd seen children, and grown folks too, who would be all smiles and politeness to the company, and then be ugly and snappish to poor people they'd hired to work for them. A real lady or gentleman, – he used to end off with this, – "A real lady, and a real gentleman will – treat – everybody – well." And I will end off with this too. And don't you ever forget it. For that you may be, my dear boy, a true gentleman is the wish of

Your loving Grandmother.

P. S. Do be careful when you go a skating. If the ice is ever so thick, there may be spring-holes. Your father wants you to have a copy of that picture taken for us to keep, and sends this money to pay for it. I forgot to say that of course it is mean for a boy not to pay his part. And for a boy not to pay his debts is mean, and next kin to stealing. And the smaller the debts are the meaner it is. We are all waiting for your Report.

-

I did not think it at all strange that Uncle Jacob should buy the blue boots. It is just what I would like to do myself. I never go past one of those wonderful shoe-store windows, and look at the bright array of blue, yellow, and red, without wishing I had six little girls, with six little pairs of feet. For then I should have half a dozen excuses to go in and buy, and now I haven't one.

Georgie's boots looked pretty, with the nice white stockings her grandmother knit. And I couldn't see any harm in her wearing a red dress with them. The red, white, and blue are the best colors in the world for me, and I'll never turn against them!

"Three cheers for the Red, White, and Blue!"

William Henry to his Grandmother

My Dear Grandmother, —

Excuse me for not writing before. Here is my Report. I haven't sniffed my nose up any at Spicey. I'll tell you why. Because I remember when I first came, and had a red head, and how bad 't was to be plagued all the time. But I tell you if he isn't a queer-looking chap! Don't talk any, hardly, but he's great for laughing. Bubby Short says his mouth laughs itself. But not out loud. Dorry says 't is a very wide smile. It comes easy to him, any way. He comes in laughing and goes out laughing. When you meet him he laughs, and when you speak to him he laughs. When he don't know the answer he laughs, and when he says right he laughs, and when you give him anything he laughs, and when he gives you anything he laughs. Though he don't have very much to give. But he can't say no. All the boys tried one day to see if they could make him say no. He had an apple, and they went up to him, one at once, and said, "Give me a taste." "Give me a taste," till 't was every bit tasted away. Then they tried him on slate-pencils, – his had bully points to them, – and he gave every one away, all but one old stump. But afterwards Mr. Augustus said 't was a shame, and the boys carried him back the pencils and said they'd done with 'em. Dorry says he's going to ask him for his nose some day, and then see what he'll do. I know. Laugh. You better believe he's a clever chap. And he won't kick. Dorry likes him for that. Not till he's paid his quarter. Mr. Augustus offered him the quarter, but he said, No, I thank you. "Why not?" Mr. Augustus asked him. He said he guessed he'd rather earn it. We expect the teacher heard about it, and guess he heard about that feller that wouldn't pay his part, and about his borrowing and not paying back, for one day he addressed the school about money, and he said no boy of spirit, or man either, would ever take money as a gift, long as he was able to earn. Course he didn't mean what your fathers give you, and Happy New Year's Day, and all that. And to borrow and not pay was mean as dirt, besides being wicked. He'd heard of people borrowing little at a time and making believe forget to pay, because they knew 't wouldn't be asked for. The feller I told you about – the one that kicks and don't pay – he owes Gapper Sky Blue for four seed-cakes. Mr. Augustus says that what makes it mean is, that he knows Gapper won't ask for two cents! Gapper let him have 'em for two cents, because he'd had 'em a good while and the edges of 'em were some crumbly. And he borrowed six cents from Dorry and knows Dorry won't say anything ever, and so he's trying to keep from paying. I guess his left ear burns sometimes!

Gapper can't go round now, selling cakes, because he's lame, and has to go with two canes. But he keeps a pig, and he and little Rosy make tiptop molasses candy to sell in sticks, one-centers and two-centers, and sell 'em to the boys when they go up there to coast. I tell you if 't isn't bully coasting on that hill back of his house! We begin way up to the tip-top and go way down and then across a pond that isn't there only winters and then into a lane, a sort of downish lane, that goes ever so far. Bubby Short 'most got run over by a sleigh. He was going "knee-hacket" and didn't see where he was going to, and went like lightning right between the horses' legs, and didn't hurt him a bit.

Last night when the moon shone the teachers let us go out, and they went too, and some of their wives and some girls. O, if we didn't have the fun! We had a great horse-sled, and we'd drag it way up to the top, and then pile in. Teachers and boys and women and girls, all together, and away we'd go. Once it 'most tipped over. O, I never did see anything scream so loud as girls can when they're scared? I wish 't would be winter longer than it is. We have a Debating Society. And the question we had last was, "Which is the best, Summer or Winter?" And we got so fast for talking, and kept interrupting so, the teacher told the Summers to go on one side and the Winters on the other, and then take turns firing at each other, one shot at a time. And Dorry was chosen Reporter to take notes, but I don't know as you can read them, he was in such a hurry.

"In summer you can fly kites.

"In winter you can skate.

"In summer you have longer time to play.

"In winter you have best fun coasting evenings.

"In summer you can drive hoop and sail boats.

"In winter you can snow-ball it and have darings.

"In summer you can go in swimming, and play ball.

"In winter you can coast and make snow-forts.

"In summer you can go a fishing.

"So you can in winter, with pickerel traps to catch pickerel and perch on the ponds, and on rivers. When the fish come up you can make a hole in the ice and set a light to draw 'em, and then take a jobber and job 'em as fast as you're a mind to.

"In summer you can go take a sail.

"In winter you can go take a sleigh-ride.

"In summer you don't freeze to death.

"In winter you don't get sunstruck.

"In summer you see green trees and flowers and hear the birds sing.

"In winter the snow falling looks pretty as green leaves, and so do the icicles on the branches, when the sun shines, and we can hear the sleigh-bells jingle.

"In summer you have green peas and fruit, and huckleberries and other berries.

"In winter you have molasses candy and pop-corn and mince-pies and preserves and a good many more roast turkeys, (another boy interrupting) and all kinds of everything put up air-tight!"

(Teacher.) Order, order, gentlemen. One shot at a time.

"In summer you have Independent Day, and that's the best day there is. For if it hadn't been for that, we should have to mind Queen Victoria.

"In winter you have Thanksgiving Day and Forefather's Day and Christmas and Happy New-Year Day and the Twenty-second of February, and that's Washington's Birthday. And if it hadn't been for that we should have to mind Queen Victoria."

When the time was up the teacher told all that had changed their minds to change their sides, and some of the Summers came over to ours, but the Winters all stayed. Then the teacher made some remarks, and said how glad we ought to be that there were different kinds of fun and beautiful things all the year round. Bubby Short says he's sure he's glad, for if a feller couldn't have fun what would he do? After we got out doors the summer ones that didn't go over hollered out to the other ones that did, "Ho! ho! Winter killed! Winter killed! 'Fore I'd be Winter killed! Frost bit! Frost bit! 'Fore I'd be Frost bit!"

I should like to see my sister's blue boots. I am very careful when I go a skating. There isn't any spring-hole in our pond. I don't know where my handkerchiefs go to.

Your affectionate Grandson,William Henry.

P. S. Don't keep awake. I'll look out. Bubby Short's folks write just so to him. And Dorry's. I wonder what makes everybody think boys want to be drowned?

-

The boys must have been much interested in that "Debating Society." When William Henry was at home he frequently started a question, and called upon all to take sides.

Georgiana to William Henry

My dear Brother, —

Yesterday I went to Aunt Phebe's to eat supper, and had on my light blue boots Uncle Jacob brought me when he went away. He dragged me over because 't was snowing, for he said the party couldn't be put off because they had got all ready. But the party wasn't anybody but me, but he's all the time funning. Aunt Phebe's little Tommy he had some new rubber boots, but they didn't get there till after supper, and then 't was 'most his bedtime. But he got into the boots and walked all round with them after his nightgown was on, and the nightgown hung down all over the rubber boots. And when they wanted to put him in his crib he didn't want to take them off, so Uncle Jacob said better let the boots stay on till he got asleep, and then pull 'em off softly as she could. Then they put him in the crib and let the boots stick out one side, without any bed-clothes being put over them. But we guessed he dreamed about his boots, because soon as they pulled 'em a little bit, he reached down to the boots and held on. But when he got sound asleep then she pulled 'em off softly and stood 'em up in the corner. I carried my work with me, and 't was the handkerchief that is going to be put in this letter. Aunt Phebe thinks some of the stitches are quite nice. She says you must excuse that one in the corner, not where your name is, but next one to it. The snow-storm was so bad I stayed all night, and they made some corn-balls, and Uncle Jacob passed them round to me first, because I was the party, in the best waiter.

And we had a good time seeing some little pigs that the old pig stepped on, – six little pigs, about as big as puppies, that had little tails, and she wouldn't take a mite of care of them. She won't let them get close up to her to keep warm, and keeps a stepping on 'em all the time, and broke one's leg. She's a horrid old pig, and Uncle Jacob was afraid they might freeze to death in the night, and Aunt Phebe found a basket, a quite large basket, and put some cotton-wool in it. Then put in the pigs. When 't was bedtime some bricks were put on the stove, and then he put the basket with the little pigs in it on top of the bricks, but put ashes on the fire first, so they could keep warm all night. And in the night they kept him awake, making little squealy noises, and he thought the fire would get hot and roast them, and once one climbed up over and tumbled down on to the floor and 'most killed himself so he died afterwards. And he says he feels very sleepy to-day, watching with the little pigs all night. For soon as 't was daylight, and before too, Tommy jumped out and cried to have his rubber boots took into bed with him, and then the roosters crowed so loud in the hen-house close to his bedroom window that he couldn't take a nap. He told me to send to you in my letter a question to talk about where you did about summer and winter. Why do roosters crow in the morning?

Two of the little pigs were dead in the morning, beside that one that killed itself dropping down, and now two more are dead. She is keeping this last one in a warm place, for they don't dare to let it go into the pig-sty, for fear she would step on it or eat it up, for he says she's worse than a cannibal. But I don't know what that is. He says they kill men and eat them alive, but I guess he's funning. She dips a sponge in milk and lets that last little pig suck that sponge.

Grandmother wants to know if little Rosy has got any good warm mittens. Wants to know if Mr. Sky Blue has. And you must count your handkerchiefs every week, she says. Little Tommy went out with his rubber boots, and waded way into such a deep snow-bank he couldn't get himself out, and when they lifted him up they lifted him right out of his rubber boots. Then he cried. Tommy's cut off a piece of his own hair.

Your affectionate sister,Georgiana.

William Henry to his Sister

My dear Sister, —

You can tell Grandmother that Lame Betsey knit a pair for Gapper Sky Blue, blue ones with white spots, and little Rosy has got an old pair. You are a very good little girl to hem handkerchiefs. I think you hemmed that one very well. It came last night, and we looked for that long stitch to excuse it, and Dorry said it ought to be, for he guessed that was the stitch that saved nine. When the letter came, Dorry and Bubby Short and Old Wonder Boy and I were sitting together, studying. When I read about the pigs I tell you if they didn't laugh! And when that little piggy dropped out of the basket Bubby Short dropped down on the floor and laughed so loud we had to stop him. Dorry said, "Let's play have a Debating Society, and take Uncle Jacob's question." And we did. First Old Wonder Boy stood up. And he said they crowed in the morning to tell people 't was time to get up and to let everybody know they themselves were up and stirring about. Said he'd lain awake mornings, down in Jersey, and listened and heard 'em say just as plain as day. "I'm up and you ought to, too! And you ought to, too!"

Then Bubby Short stood up and said he thought they were telling the other ones to keep in their own yards, and not be flying over where they didn't belong. Said he'd lain awake in the morning and heard 'em say, just as plain as day, "If you do, I'll give it to you! I'll give it to you oo oo oo!"

But a little chap that had come to hear what was going on said 't was more likely they were daring each other to come on and fight. For he'd lain awake in the morning and listened and heard 'em say, "Come on if you dare, for I can whip you oo oo!"

Then 't was my turn, and I stood up and said I guessed the best crower kept a crowing school, and was showing all the young ones how to scale up and down, same as the singing-master did. For I'd lain awake in the morning and heard first the old one crow, and then the little ones try to. And heard the old one say, just as plain as day, "Open your mouth wide and do as I do! Do as I do!" and then the young ones say, "Can't quite do so! Can't quite do so!"

Dorry said he never was wide awake enough in the morning to hear what anybody said, but he'd always understood they were talking about the weather, and giving the hens their orders for the day, telling which to lay and which to set, and where the good places were to steal nests, and where there'd been anything planted they could scratch up again, and how to bring up their chickens, and to look out and not hatch ducks' eggs.

The teacher opened the door then to see if we were all studying our lessons, so the Debating Society stopped.

Should you like to hear about our going to take a great big sleigh-ride? The whole school went together in great big sleighs with four horses. We had flags flying, and I tell you if 't wasn't a bully go! We went ten miles. We went by a good many schoolhouses, where the boys were out, and they'd up and hurrah, and then we'd hurrah back again. And one lot of fellers, if they didn't let the snowballs fly at us! And we wanted our driver to stop, and let us give it to 'em good. But he wouldn't do it. One little chap hung his sled on behind and couldn't get it unhitched again, for some of our fellers kept hold, and we carried him off more than a mile. Then he began to cry. Then the teacher heard him, and had the sleigh stopped, and took him in and he went all the way with us. He lost his mittens trying to unhitch it, and his hands ached, but he made believe laugh, and we put him down in the bottom to warm 'em in the hay. We 'most ran over an old beggar-woman, in one place between two drifts, where there wasn't very much room to turn out. I guess she was deaf. We all stood up and shouted and bawled at her and the driver held 'em in tight. And just as their noses almost touched her she looked round, and then she was so scared she didn't know what to do, but just stood still to let herself be run over. But the driver hollered and made signs for her to stand close up to the drift, and then there'd be room enough.

When I got home I found my bundle and the tin box rolled up in that new jacket, with all that good jelly in it. Old Wonder Boy peeped in and says he, "O, there's quite some jelly in there, isn't there?" He says down in Jersey they make nice quince-jelly out of apple-parings, and said 't was true, for he'd eaten some. Dorry said he knew that was common in Ireland, but never knew 't was done in this country. Dorry says you must keep us posted about the last of the piggies. Keep your pretty blue boots nice for Brother Billy to see, won't you? Thank you for hemming that pretty handkerchief. I've counted my handkerchiefs a good many times, but counting 'em don't make any difference.

From your affectionate Brother,William Henry.-

The course of true love it seems did not always ran smooth with Dorry and William Henry.

William Henry to his Grandmother

My dear Grandmother, —

This is only a short letter that I am going to write to you, because I don't feel like writing any. But when I don't write then you think I have the measles, else drowned in the pond, and I'll write a little, but I feel so sober I don't feel like writing very much. I suppose you will say, – what are you feeling so sober about? Well, seems if I didn't have any fun now, for Dorry and I we've got mad at each other. And he don't hardly speak to me, and I don't to him either; and if he don't want to be needn't, for I don't mean to be fooling round im, and trying to get him to, if he don't want to.

Last night we all went out to coast, and the teachers and a good many ladies and girls, and we were going to see which was the champion sled. But something else happened first. The top of the hill was all bare, and before they all got there some of the fellers were scuffling together for fun, and Dorry and I we tried to take each other down. First of it 't was all in fun, but then it got more in earnest, and he hit me in the face so hard it made me mad, and I hit him and he got mad too.

Then we began to coast, for the people had all got there. Dorry's and mine were the two swiftest ones, and we kept near each other, but his slewed round some, and he said I hit it with my foot he guessed, and then we had some words, and I don't know what we did both say; but now we keep away from each other, and it seems so funny I don't know what to do. The teacher asked me to go over to the stable to-day, for he lost a bunch of compositions and thought they might have dropped out of his pocket, when we went to take that sleigh-ride. And I was just going to say, "Come on, Old Dorrymas!" before I thought.

But 't is the funniest in the morning. This morning I waked up early, and he was fast asleep, and I thought, Now you'll catch it, old fellow, and was just a going to pull his hair; but in a minute I remembered. Then I dressed myself and thought I would take a walk out. I went just as softly by his bed and stood still there a minute and set out to give a little pull, for I don't feel half so mad as I did the first of it, but was afraid he did. So I went out-doors and looked round. Went as far as the Two Betseys' Shop and was going by, but The Other Betsey stood at the door shaking a mat, and called to me, "Billy, where are you going to?"

"Only looking round," I said. She told me to come in and warm me, and I thought I would go in just a minute or two. Lame Betsey was frying flapjacks in a spider, a little mite of a spider, for breakfast. She spread butter on one and made me take it to eat in a saucer, and I never tasted of a better flapjack. There was a cinnamon colored jacket hanging on the chair-back, and I said, "Why, that's Spicey's jacket!" "Who?" they cried out both together. Then I called him by his right name, Jim Mills. He's some relation to them, and his mother isn't well enough to mend all his clothes, so Lame Betsey does it for nothing. He earns money to pay for his schooling, and he wants to go to college, and they don't doubt he will. They said he was the best boy that ever was. His mother doesn't have anybody but him to do things for her, only his little sister about the size of my little sister. He makes the fires and cuts wood and splits kindling, and looks into the buttery to see when the things are empty, and never waits to be told. When they talked about him they both talked together, and Lame Betsey let one spiderful burn forgetting to turn 'em over time enough.