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3rd October Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Back at college and a Senior--also editor of the Monthly. It doesn't seem possible, does it, that so sophisticated a person, just four years ago, was an inmate of the John Grier Home? We do arrive fast in America!

What do you think of this? A note from Master Jervie directed to Lock Willow and forwarded here. He's sorry, but he finds that he can't get up there this autumn; he has accepted an invitation to go yachting with some friends. Hopes I've had a nice summer and am enjoying the country.

And he knew all the time that I was with the McBrides, for Julia told him so! You men ought to leave intrigue to women; you haven't a light enough touch.

Julia has a trunkful of the most ravishing new clothes--an evening gown of rainbow Liberty crepe that would be fitting raiment for the angels in Paradise. And I thought that my own clothes this year were unprecedentedly (is there such a word?) beautiful. I copied Mrs. Paterson's wardrobe with the aid of a cheap dressmaker, and though the gowns didn't turn out quite twins of the originals, I was entirely happy until Julia unpacked. But now--I live to see Paris!

Dear Daddy, aren't you glad you're not a girl? I suppose you think that the fuss we make over clothes is too absolutely silly? It is. No doubt about it. But it's entirely your fault.

Did you ever hear about the learned Herr Professor who regarded unnecessary adornment with contempt and favoured sensible, utilitarian clothes for women? His wife, who was an obliging creature, adopted 'dress reform.' And what do you think he did? He eloped with a chorus girl. Yours ever, Judy

PS. The chamber-maid in our corridor wears blue checked gingham aprons. I am going to get her some brown ones instead, and sink the blue ones in the bottom of the lake. I have a reminiscent chill every time I look at them.

17th November Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

Such a blight has fallen over my literary career. I don't know whether to tell you or not, but I would like some sympathy-- silent sympathy, please; don't re-open the wound by referring to it in your next letter.

I've been writing a book, all last winter in the evenings, and all the summer when I wasn't teaching Latin to my two stupid children. I just finished it before college opened and sent it to a publisher. He kept it two months, and I was certain he was going to take it; but yesterday morning an express parcel came (thirty cents due) and there it was back again with a letter from the publisher, a very nice, fatherly letter--but frank! He said he saw from the address that I was still at college, and if I would accept some advice, he would suggest that I put all of my energy into my lessons and wait until I graduated before beginning to write. He enclosed his reader's opinion. Here it is:

'Plot highly improbable. Characterization exaggerated. Conversation unnatural. A good deal of humour but not always in the best of taste. Tell her to keep on trying, and in time she may produce a real book.'

Not on the whole flattering, is it, Daddy? And I thought I was making a notable addition to American literature. I did truly. I was planning to surprise you by writing a great novel before I graduated. I collected the material for it while I was at Julia's last Christmas. But I dare say the editor is right. Probably two weeks was not enough in which to observe the manners and customs of a great city.

I took it walking with me yesterday afternoon, and when I came to the gas house, I went in and asked the engineer if I might borrow his furnace. He politely opened the door, and with my own hands I chucked it in. I felt as though I had cremated my only child!

I went to bed last night utterly dejected; I thought I was never going to amount to anything, and that you had thrown away your money for nothing. But what do you think? I woke up this morning with a beautiful new plot in my head, and I've been going about all day planning my characters, just as happy as I could be. No one can ever accuse me of being a pessimist! If I had a husband and twelve children swallowed by an earthquake one day, I'd bob up smilingly the next morning and commence to look for another set. Affectionately, Judy

14th December Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

I dreamed the funniest dream last night. I thought I went into a book store and the clerk brought me a new book named The Life and Letters of Judy Abbott. I could see it perfectly plainly-- red cloth binding with a picture of the John Grier Home on the cover, and my portrait for a frontispiece with, 'Very truly yours, Judy Abbott,' written below. But just as I was turning to the end to read the inscription on my tombstone, I woke up. It was very annoying! I almost found out whom I'm going to marry and when I'm going to die.

Don't you think it would be interesting if you really could read the story of your life--written perfectly truthfully by an omniscient author? And suppose you could only read it on this condition: that you would never forget it, but would have to go through life knowing ahead of time exactly how everything you did would turn out, and foreseeing to the exact hour the time when you would die. How many people do you suppose would have the courage to read it then? or how many could suppress their curiosity sufficiently to escape from reading it, even at the price of having to live without hope and without surprises?

Life is monotonous enough at best; you have to eat and sleep about so often. But imagine how DEADLY monotonous it would be if nothing unexpected could happen between meals. Mercy! Daddy, there's a blot, but I'm on the third page and I can't begin a new sheet.

I'm going on with biology again this year--very interesting subject; we're studying the alimentary system at present. You should see how sweet a cross-section of the duodenum of a cat is under the microscope.

Also we've arrived at philosophy--interesting but evanescent. I prefer biology where you can pin the subject under discussion to a board. There's another! And another! This pen is weeping copiously. Please excuse its tears.

Do you believe in free will? I do--unreservedly. I don't agree at all with the philosophers who think that every action is the absolutely inevitable and automatic resultant of an aggregation of remote causes. That's the most immoral doctrine I ever heard-- nobody would be to blame for anything. If a man believed in fatalism, he would naturally just sit down and say, 'The Lord's will be done,' and continue to sit until he fell over dead.

I believe absolutely in my own free will and my own power to accomplish-- and that is the belief that moves mountains. You watch me become a great author! I have four chapters of my new book finished and five more drafted.

This is a very abstruse letter--does your head ache, Daddy? I think we'll stop now and make some fudge. I'm sorry I can't send you a piece; it will be unusually good, for we're going to make it with real cream and three butter balls. Yours affectionately, Judy

PS. We're having fancy dancing in gymnasium class. You can see by the accompanying picture how much we look like a real ballet. The one at the end accomplishing a graceful pirouette is me--I mean I.

26th December My Dear, Dear, Daddy,

Haven't you any sense? Don't you KNOW that you mustn't give one girl seventeen Christmas presents? I'm a Socialist, please remember; do you wish to turn me into a Plutocrat?

Think how embarrassing it would be if we should ever quarrel! I should have to engage a moving-van to return your gifts.

I am sorry that the necktie I sent was so wobbly; I knit it with my own hands (as you doubtless discovered from internal evidence). You will have to wear it on cold days and keep your coat buttoned up tight.

Thank you, Daddy, a thousand times. I think you're the sweetest man that ever lived--and the foolishest! Judy

Here's a four-leaf clover from Camp McBride to bring you good luck for the New Year.

9th January

Do you wish to do something, Daddy, that will ensure your eternal salvation? There is a family here who are in awfully desperate straits. A mother and father and four visible children-- the two older boys have disappeared into the world to make their fortune and have not sent any of it back. The father worked in a glass factory and got consumption--it's awfully unhealthy work-- and now has been sent away to a hospital. That took all their savings, and the support of the family falls upon the oldest daughter, who is twenty-four. She dressmakes for $1.50 a day (when she can get it) and embroiders centrepieces in the evening. The mother isn't very strong and is extremely ineffectual and pious. She sits with her hands folded, a picture of patient resignation, while the daughter kills herself with overwork and responsibility and worry; she doesn't see how they are going to get through the rest of the winter--and I don't either. One hundred dollars would buy some coal and some shoes for three children so that they could go to school, and give a little margin so that she needn't worry herself to death when a few days pass and she doesn't get work.

You are the richest man I know. Don't you suppose you could spare one hundred dollars? That girl deserves help a lot more than I ever did. I wouldn't ask it except for the girl; I don't care much what happens to the mother--she is such a jelly-fish.

The way people are for ever rolling their eyes to heaven and saying, 'Perhaps it's all for the best,' when they are perfectly dead sure it's not, makes me enraged. Humility or resignation or whatever you choose to call it, is simply impotent inertia. I'm for a more militant religion!

We are getting the most dreadful lessons in philosophy--all of Schopenhauer for tomorrow. The professor doesn't seem to realize that we are taking any other subject. He's a queer old duck; he goes about with his head in the clouds and blinks dazedly when occasionally he strikes solid earth. He tries to lighten his lectures with an occasional witticism--and we do our best to smile, but I assure you his jokes are no laughing matter. He spends his entire time between classes in trying to figure out whether matter really exists or whether he only thinks it exists.

I'm sure my sewing girl hasn't any doubt but that it exists!

Where do you think my new novel is? In the waste-basket. I can see myself that it's no good on earth, and when a loving author realizes that, what WOULD be the judgment of a critical public?

Later

I address you, Daddy, from a bed of pain. For two days I've been laid up with swollen tonsils; I can just swallow hot milk, and that is all. 'What were your parents thinking of not to have those tonsils out when you were a baby?' the doctor wished to know. I'm sure I haven't an idea, but I doubt if they were thinking much about me. Yours, J. A.

Next morning

I just read this over before sealing it. I don't know WHY I cast such a misty atmosphere over life. I hasten to assure you that I am young and happy and exuberant; and I trust you are the same. Youth has nothing to do with birthdays, only with ALIVEDNESS of spirit, so even if your hair is grey, Daddy, you can still be a boy. Affectionately, Judy

12th Jan. Dear Mr. Philanthropist,

Your cheque for my family came yesterday. Thank you so much! I cut gymnasium and took it down to them right after luncheon, and you should have seen the girl's face! She was so surprised and happy and relieved that she looked almost young; and she's only twenty-four. Isn't it pitiful?

Anyway, she feels now as though all the good things were coming together. She has steady work ahead for two months--someone's getting married, and there's a trousseau to make.

'Thank the good Lord!' cried the mother, when she grasped the fact that that small piece of paper was one hundred dollars.

'It wasn't the good Lord at all,' said I, 'it was Daddy-Long-Legs.' (Mr. Smith, I called you.)

'But it was the good Lord who put it in his mind,' said she.

'Not at all! I put it in his mind myself,' said I.

But anyway, Daddy, I trust the good Lord will reward you suitably. You deserve ten thousand years out of purgatory. Yours most gratefully, Judy Abbott

15th Feb. May it please Your Most Excellent Majesty:

This morning I did eat my breakfast upon a cold turkey pie and a goose, and I did send for a cup of tee (a china drink) of which I had never drank before.

Don't be nervous, Daddy--I haven't lost my mind; I'm merely quoting Sam'l Pepys. We're reading him in connection with English History, original sources. Sallie and Julia and I converse now in the language of 1660. Listen to this:

'I went to Charing Cross to see Major Harrison hanged, drawn and quartered: he looking as cheerful as any man could do in that condition.' And this: 'Dined with my lady who is in handsome mourning for her brother who died yesterday of spotted fever.'

Seems a little early to commence entertaining, doesn't it? A friend of Pepys devised a very cunning manner whereby the king might pay his debts out of the sale to poor people of old decayed provisions. What do you, a reformer, think of that? I don't believe we're so bad today as the newspapers make out.

Samuel was as excited about his clothes as any girl; he spent five times as much on dress as his wife--that appears to have been the Golden Age of husbands. Isn't this a touching entry? You see he really was honest. 'Today came home my fine Camlett cloak with gold buttons, which cost me much money, and I pray God to make me able to pay for it.'

Excuse me for being so full of Pepys; I'm writing a special topic on him.

What do you think, Daddy? The Self-Government Association has abolished the ten o'clock rule. We can keep our lights all night if we choose, the only requirement being that we do not disturb others-- we are not supposed to entertain on a large scale. The result is a beautiful commentary on human nature. Now that we may stay up as long as we choose, we no longer choose. Our heads begin to nod at nine o'clock, and by nine-thirty the pen drops from our nerveless grasp. It's nine-thirty now. Good night.

Sunday

Just back from church--preacher from Georgia. We must take care, he says, not to develop our intellects at the expense of our emotional natures-- but methought it was a poor, dry sermon (Pepys again). It doesn't matter what part of the United States or Canada they come from, or what denomination they are, we always get the same sermon. Why on earth don't they go to men's colleges and urge the students not to allow their manly natures to be crushed out by too much mental application?

It's a beautiful day--frozen and icy and clear. As soon as dinner is over, Sallie and Julia and Marty Keene and Eleanor Pratt (friends of mine, but you don't know them) and I are going to put on short skirts and walk 'cross country to Crystal Spring Farm and have a fried chicken and waffle supper, and then have Mr. Crystal Spring drive us home in his buckboard. We are supposed to be inside the campus at seven, but we are going to stretch a point tonight and make it eight.

Farewell, kind Sir. I have the honour of subscribing myself, Your most loyall, dutifull, faithfull and obedient servant, J. Abbott

March Fifth Dear Mr. Trustee,

Tomorrow is the first Wednesday in the month--a weary day for the John Grier Home. How relieved they'll be when five o'clock comes and you pat them on the head and take yourselves off! Did you (individually) ever pat me on the head, Daddy? I don't believe so-- my memory seems to be concerned only with fat Trustees.

Give the Home my love, please--my TRULY love. I have quite a feeling of tenderness for it as I look back through a haze of four years. When I first came to college I felt quite resentful because I'd been robbed of the normal kind of childhood that the other girls had had; but now, I don't feel that way in the least. I regard it as a very unusual adventure. It gives me a sort of vantage point from which to stand aside and look at life. Emerging full grown, I get a perspective on the world, that other people who have been brought up in the thick of things entirely lack.

I know lots of girls (Julia, for instance) who never know that they are happy. They are so accustomed to the feeling that their senses are deadened to it; but as for me--I am perfectly sure every moment of my life that I am happy. And I'm going to keep on being, no matter what unpleasant things turn up. I'm going to regard them (even toothaches) as interesting experiences, and be glad to know what they feel like. 'Whatever sky's above me, I've a heart for any fate.'

However, Daddy, don't take this new affection for the J.G.H. too literally. If I have five children, like Rousseau, I shan't leave them on the steps of a foundling asylum in order to insure their being brought up simply.

Give my kindest regards to Mrs. Lippett (that, I think, is truthful; love would be a little strong) and don't forget to tell her what a beautiful nature I've developed. Affectionately, Judy

LOCK WILLOW, 4th April Dear Daddy,

Do you observe the postmark? Sallie and I are embellishing Lock Willow with our presence during the Easter Vacation. We decided that the best thing we could do with our ten days was to come where it is quiet. Our nerves had got to the point where they wouldn't stand another meal in Fergussen. Dining in a room with four hundred girls is an ordeal when you are tired. There is so much noise that you can't hear the girls across the table speak unless they make their hands into a megaphone and shout. That is the truth.

We are tramping over the hills and reading and writing, and having a nice, restful time. We climbed to the top of 'Sky Hill' this morning where Master Jervie and I once cooked supper-- it doesn't seem possible that it was nearly two years ago. I could still see the place where the smoke of our fire blackened the rock. It is funny how certain places get connected with certain people, and you never go back without thinking of them. I was quite lonely without him--for two minutes.

What do you think is my latest activity, Daddy? You will begin to believe that I am incorrigible--I am writing a book. I started it three weeks ago and am eating it up in chunks. I've caught the secret. Master Jervie and that editor man were right; you are most convincing when you write about the things you know. And this time it is about something that I do know--exhaustively. Guess where it's laid? In the John Grier Home! And it's good, Daddy, I actually believe it is--just about the tiny little things that happened every day. I'm a realist now. I've abandoned romanticism; I shall go back to it later though, when my own adventurous future begins.

This new book is going to get itself finished--and published! You see if it doesn't. If you just want a thing hard enough and keep on trying, you do get it in the end. I've been trying for four years to get a letter from you--and I haven't given up hope yet.

Goodbye, Daddy dear,

(I like to call you Daddy dear; it's so alliterative.) Affectionately, Judy

PS. I forgot to tell you the farm news, but it's very distressing. Skip this postscript if you don't want your sensibilities all wrought up.

Poor old Grove is dead. He got so that he couldn't chew and they had to shoot him.

Nine chickens were killed by a weasel or a skunk or a rat last week.

One of the cows is sick, and we had to have the veterinary surgeon out from Bonnyrigg Four Corners. Amasai stayed up all night to give her linseed oil and whisky. But we have an awful suspicion that the poor sick cow got nothing but linseed oil.

Sentimental Tommy (the tortoise-shell cat) has disappeared; we are afraid he has been caught in a trap.

There are lots of troubles in the world!

17th May Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

This is going to be extremely short because my shoulder aches at the sight of a pen. Lecture notes all day, immortal novel all evening, make too much writing.

Commencement three weeks from next Wednesday. I think you might come and make my acquaintance--I shall hate you if you don't! Julia's inviting Master Jervie, he being her family, and Sallie's inviting Jimmie McB., he being her family, but who is there for me to invite? Just you and Lippett, and I don't want her. Please come.

Yours, with love and writer's cramp. Judy

十月三日

亲爱的长腿叔叔:

回到学校而且大四了 - 同时是校刊的编辑.看起来好像不太可能,不是吗?也不过是四年前的事,一个孤儿院的弃儿,如今摇身一变成为一个有内涵的人.在美国步调是很快的.

你知道吗?一封哲维少爷的信由柳树农场转寄到学校.他说很抱歉这个秋天抽不出时间去农场,因为他已经接受几个朋友的邀请搭船出海.他希望我夏天过得很愉快,享受乡村生活.

其实他知道我和麦克白家一起露营,茱莉亚告诉他的.你们男人应该把耍心机这种事留给女人,哲维少爷差太远了.

茱莉亚带回一皮箱最华丽的新衣服 - 一件彩虹图案的晚礼服,像是天使的衣着.今年我的衣服也是史无前例的(可以这样形容吗)漂亮.借由一位廉价裁缝的帮助,我抄袭了派特森太太的服装,虽然我的抄袭结果并不尽然完全相同,但在茱莉亚打开她的行李之前,我是非常满意的.不过现在,我看到巴黎展现在我眼前.

亲爱的Daddy,你应该很庆幸你不是女生吧?!我想你可能觉得我们在衣服上花心思太愚蠢了.没错,但那并不尽然是你的不对.

你有没有听过一位有学问的博士先生对不必要的装饰极其不屑,偏好女性穿着理性且具有功能的衣服?他温顺的太太接受他的服装理念,但是你知道吗?他后来和教堂唱诗班中的一个女孩子私奔了.

永远的,
茱蒂

PS 打扫我们房间的清洁女工穿着蓝白格子围裙.我要买咖啡色的格子围裙给她,把她的蓝白格子围裙丢到湖里去.每次看到蓝白格子,我还是会因为想到过去而打冷颤.

十一月十七日

亲爱的长腿叔叔:

我的文学生涯遭受到重大打击.我不知道该不该告诉你,但是我需要一些同情 - 沉默的同情,请不要在你的回信提及此事重启我的伤口.

我一直在写一本书,去年冬天的每个晚上,还有夏天当我没有在教我那两个笨小孩拉丁文时.开学前不久我写完了,并寄给一家出版社.他把我的书留了两个月,在我很确定我的书会被采用时,昨天早上快递送来一份包裹,里面是我的书和出版社写的一封信,充满善意且慈爱的信 - 但也很坦白.信中说从我的地址判断我还是大学生,如果我愿意接受他的意见,他建议我先专心读书,毕业后再开始写作.他附上他的读者的意见,如下:

“剧情极不合理.性格夸大.对话不自然.虽时有趣味,但并非总是恰如其分.请她继续努力,假以时日她会写出一本好书.”

一点也不奉承,不是吗,Daddy?我还以为我对美国文学做出贡献.我真的这么认为,而且还打算在毕业前写出一本好书,好给你一个惊喜.去年耶诞节在茱莉亚家时,我收集了写这本书的资料.但我想编辑说的没错.也许两个礼拜并不足以观察一个大城市的面貌与习惯.

昨天下午我带着退稿出去散步,当我走到瓦斯房时,我进去问里面的工程师可不可以借火炉用用.他有礼的打开炉门,我亲手把退稿投入.感觉好像火化了自己的小孩.

昨晚带着气馁的心情就寝;觉得自己什么事情也成就不了,你在我身上花的钱都白费了.但是你知道吗?今早起床时我脑中出现了一个美丽的新故事,我整天都在构思角色的性格,快乐得不得了.没有人会说我是悲观的.如果有一天一个地震夺去我的丈夫和十二个小孩,第二天早上我还是会带着微笑起床,开始重组另一组家人.

衷心的,
茱蒂

十二月十四日

亲爱的长腿叔叔:

昨晚我做了一个最有趣的梦.我梦见进去一间书店,店员拿了一本书给我,书名是“茱蒂爱柏的一生与书信.”我可以清清楚楚的看到这本书 - 红色布面装订,封面是一张孤儿院的照片,前页是我的画像,下方署名“非常真挚的,茱蒂爱柏”.就在我翻到结尾要读我的墓志铭时,我醒了.真是令人生气.我就快要发现我会嫁给谁,以及何时会离开这个世界.

如果可以真的读到你的人生故事 - 出于一位全知的作者之手 - 你不觉得会很有意思吗?假设你只能在一个条件下预先阅读你的人生,那就是你读过后永远不会忘记,此后不管你人生遭遇到什么事,你都早已预先知道你所做所为的后果如何,而且预先看到自己离开人世的确切时间.你觉得会有多少人有勇气事先阅读自己的一生?有多少人可以克制自己的好奇心而不去阅读?即使代价是没有希望没有惊喜的活着?

生命充其量不过是单调罢了,你得不时的吃喝睡觉.但是如果在三餐之间没有任何预期以外的事物会发生,生命何等单调乏味啊!糟糕,Daddy,有一大点的墨水渍,但我正写到第三页,没有办法换新页.

今年我修了生物学 - 一个非常有趣的科目;目前我们正读到营养系统.你真该看看在显微镜下猫的十二指肠的横切面多么有意思.

我还修了哲学 - 很有趣但逐渐消失中.我比较喜欢生物学,因为你可以把讨论的主题钉在板子上.又来了一个墨水渍!又一个!这支笔的泪腺发达.请原谅它的泪水.

你相信自由意志吗?我相信 - 毫无保留的.哲学家说每一个行为来自于遥远的因素的聚集,无可避免的自动造成的后果,我完全不同意.那是我听过最谬误的理论 - 没有人应该为任何事而遭受责难.如果一个人相信宿命论,他只会坐下来并说,“让上帝完成其旨意,”然后继续那么坐着直到死亡.

我全然的相信我的自由意志和力量 - 那是一股可以移山的信念.你等著看我成为一个出色的作家吧!我已经写了完整的四章,另外五章的草稿也已完成.

这是一封很有深度的信 - 你有读到头痛吗,Daddy?我想我得停笔去做些牛奶糖.真可惜不能寄一些给你,这回我们做的牛奶糖会特别好吃,因为我们要用真正的鲜奶油和三颗奶油球.

衷心的,
茱蒂

PS 体育课我们上了好玩的舞蹈课.从以下我画的图片你可以看到我们多像真正的芭蕾舞者.最后面在完成脚尖旋转舞步的人是我.(注)

注:茱蒂所做的脚尖旋转舞步让我想到回教徒的回旋舞,当然两者是不相同的.我第一次看到在原地不停旋转的舞蹈是好几年前在云门舞集的户外公演罗曼菲所跳的,好惊人又美妙的旋转.后来在电影“偶然与巧合”也看到,以下是电影中回旋舞的片段.

十二月二十六日

最最亲爱的Daddy:

你难道不知道给一个女孩子十七件耶诞礼物是一件不对的事吗?请别忘了我是社会主义者,难道你想把我变成富豪财阀吗?

如果我们吵架了,想想看那会有多可怕!我可能得雇一辆搬家的货车,才能把所有你送我的礼物退回给你.

请原谅我寄给你的领巾,我知道我的编织技巧还不够纯熟(无疑的你可以从中发现证据).天气冷的时候请记得系上,大衣的钮釦要扣紧.

谢谢你,Daddy.一千个谢谢你.我想你是世上最贴心的男人 - 也是最傻气的.

茱蒂

随信附上我在麦克白家营地捡到的四叶幸运草,祝你新年好运.

一月九日

你想做些事以获得永恒的救赎吗?我认识一家人正陷入无比的困境中.这一家人有一个母亲,一个父亲和四个看的到的小孩 - 有两个男孩出门赚钱但从此一去不回.父亲在一个玻璃工厂工作,得了肺结核 - 非常有害健康的工作 - 目前住院中.住院的费用花去他们所有的积蓄,家中的经济重担落在长女肩上.她才二十四岁,靠做衣服一天赚一块半(当她有活可做时),晚上则做桌上摆饰的刺绣.母亲身体不够强壮,一无是处且信仰虔诚.她只知两手交握的坐着,无奈的顺从命运,而她的女儿则是拼死拼活的工作在尽义务,操心家计;她不知道要如何度过这个冬天 - 我也不知道.一百元便够他们买些煤块,三个孩子可以买鞋穿好去上学,甚至可以她让没裁缝活可做时,还可以撑个几天,不至于担心到死.

你是我认识的人之中最有钱的.你可以拨一些钱帮助他们吗?那个女孩比我更值得获得你的帮助.如果不是因为她,我也不会向你开口;我一点也不在意那个母亲 - 她真是软弱无能.

当人们仰望上天并说,“也许这样对我们是最好的,”其实他们心知肚明并非如此时,总是让我愤怒.谦卑,顺从,或是不管你选择何种字眼去称呼这种心态,对我而言只是单纯的惰性.我相信的是孜孜不倦的宗教.(注)

注:酒鬼凯特十分赞同茱蒂对惰性的解释,有人老说台湾的失业率多高又多高,但天知道有多少需要劳力的辛苦工作没有人愿意去做.双手万能,只要你手脚勤快,贫穷只是两个字而已.

哲学课我们正上到最可怕的部份 - 明天全部都是叔本华(注).教授似乎不知道我们还有修其他的科目.他是一只古怪的老鸭子.他的头仿佛置之云中,偶然碰到地面时茫然的眨眨眼.偶尔他会试着说些俏皮话轻松一下上课的气氛, - 我们得努力的微笑,因为他的俏皮话一点也不好笑.课堂以外的时间,他全拿来思考世事是否真的存在,还是只是他认为有存在.

注:叔本华 Schopenhauer 是德国哲学家 (1788-1860).

我相信我的裁缝女孩对世事的存在毫不怀疑.

你知道我写的新书哪里去了吗?在垃圾桶里.我自己都知道那本书对地球没什么帮功,而当作者本身都这么认为时,一般大众的批评又会如何?

稍后

从病榻中写信给你,Daddy.我的扁桃腺肿了两天了,除了热牛奶什么也吞不下.“为什么小时候妳的父母没有把妳的扁桃腺割掉呢?他们在想什么?”这是医生问我的话.我一点也不知道为什么,而且我怀疑他们到底有多关心我.

隔天早上

在把信封起来之前我又读了一回.我不知道为何我在人生投入如此迷濛的气氛.忍不住要跟你保证其实我又年青又快乐又生气勃勃,我相信你也是.年轻跟生日无关,而是跟活力有关,所以即使你的头发已经灰白,你还是可以当一个男孩子的.

衷心的,
茱蒂

一月十二日

亲爱的慈善家先生:

你寄给那家人的支票昨天收到了.非常谢谢你.午餐过后我跳过体育课立刻把支票送过去,你真该看看那个女孩的脸!她无比的意外,开心,而且大大的松了口气,看起来几乎要像个年轻的女孩子,但她也不过才二十四岁,真可惜,不是吗?

总之,她现在觉得好像天下的好事都一起出现了.她已经有稳定的裁缝工作来源两个月了 - 因为有人要结婚来订做嫁妆.

“感谢上帝!”她的母亲说,当她了解那一小张纸价值一百元时.

“那不是上帝给的,”我说,“是长腿叔叔给的.”(当时我的措词是史密斯先生.)

“但那是上帝请他来帮助我们,”她说.

“完全不是,是我请他来帮助你们,”我说.

无论如何,我相信上帝会给你适当的奖赏,Daddy.你会流传万世的.

最感激的,
茱蒂

二月十五日

我至高无上的主人:

晨起早膳火鸡冷派搭配一鹅,遣人送来一杯茶,初次品茗.

别紧张,Daddy - 我没有发疯,我只是在引用山谬派皮斯(注)的话而已.我们正在读与他有关的英国历史,原始的出处.莎莉,茱莉亚和我现在用1660年代的措词在对话.你听:

注:山谬派皮斯 Sam’l Pepys (1623-1703),英国小说家,以日记闻名.

“行至查令十字路目睹哈瑞森上校受绞刑,卸下,体分四部;其面容愉悦至极.”还有这段,“与我夫人用餐,其兄长于昨日因斑疹热离世,悲恸逾恒.”

派皮斯的一个朋友想出一个狡猾的方法来帮国王还债:把腐烂的食物卖给穷人.身为一个改革者,不知道你对此看法如何?我倒是不相信今日的我们有像报纸写的那么糟.

山谬对他的服装和任何一个女孩一样讲究;他花在穿着打扮的时间比他太太多出五倍 - 看起来那是丈夫的黄金年代.你不觉得这段记录很令人感动吗?可以看出来他有多诚实.“今日返家见到我那精致的金釦斗蓬,所费不赀,愿上帝助我有力负担此一衣着.

不好意思我写了这么多派皮斯,我正在写一份有关他的报告.

你知道吗,Daddy.自律组织已经取消十点熄灯的规定.我们可以自由开灯,唯一的要求是不能打扰到别人 - 我们不能大肆庆祝.这个结果为人类的天性写下一个美丽的注脚.

周日

刚从教堂回来 - 牧师来自乔治亚州.我们必须谨慎,他说,别用天生的情感当代价来培养智慧 - 但吾人以为此人所言干枯贫瘠(又是派皮斯).不管他们是来自美国或加拿大,或是其他阶级团体,我们总是获得相同的传道.为何他们不去男子大学敦促学生别让男人的天性被太多情感摧毁?

天气十分美丽 - 冷洌冰冻且晴朗.午餐过后,莎莉,茱莉亚,玛蒂,爱琳娜(我的朋友,但你不认识她们)和我要换上短裙,越野徒步去水晶之泉农场,吃一顿炸鸡和松饼晚餐,然后请水晶之泉的男主人用他的四轮马车载我们回来.我们应该在七点前回到校园,但我们擅自决定延长一个小时到八点.

再会,好心的先生

无比荣幸的
你最尽忠职守的仆人
洁若莎爱柏

三月五日

亲爱的理事先生:

明天是本月的第一个星期三 - 一个令人疲倦的日子.五点钟到来时,当你们拍拍孤儿院小孩的头然后离去时,小孩们会大大的松口气.你曾经拍过我的头吗,Daddy?我觉得没有 - 我的记忆似乎只侷限在胖胖的理事身上.

当你明天去孤儿院时,请为我献上最真诚的问候.回头看过去这迷濛的四年,心中升起一股温柔的情感.初进大学时我心中充满怨恨,因为我被剥夺了所有女孩该有的正常童年;但现在我却一点也不这么认为.我把那当成一场非常不一样的冒险,让我可以站在一个比较有利的角度看待人生.我已长大成人,看待世界的角度和那些衣食无缺的人比起来是全然不同的.

我认识很多女孩(例如茱莉亚)从来不知道自己是幸福的.她们是如此的习惯于幸福,以至于对幸福麻木;至于我 - 我深信生命中的每一刻都是幸福的.而且我要继续幸福下去,不管有什么不愉快的事发生.我要把不愉快的事情(即使是牙痛)当成有趣的经验,而且庆幸知道不愉快是什么感觉.“不管头上的天空如何,我有心接受任何命运.”

不过,请别把我对孤儿院的新感觉看得过于认真.如果我跟卢梭一样有五个小孩,我是不会为了确保他们能单纯的长大而把他们留在孤儿院门口的阶梯上的.

请帮我问候丽柏太太(献上问候是真心的,献上爱有点太过了),别忘了跟她说我培养出多美丽的性情.

衷心的,
茱蒂

柳树农场

四月四日

亲爱的Daddy;

你有注意到邮戳吗?在复活节假期,莎莉和我决定用我们的存在点缀一下柳树农场.最佳利用这十天假期的方式,是来到这安静的柳树农场.我们无法忍受在宿舍用餐.当你很疲倦时,和四百个女孩在一室用餐是一种折磨.餐厅吵闹到你听不到对面的人在讲什么,除非把手圈起来大叫.真的.

我们走路,阅读,写字,享受愉快放松的时光.今天我们爬上天空之丘,哲维少爷和我曾在那儿煮过晚饭 - 想不到那已经是两年前的事了.我还可以看到被我们用烟燻黑的石头.有些地方总是跟某些人有关联,当你再度造访时,总是会想起那些人.没有他在我感到有点孤单 - 两分钟而已.

知道我最近在忙什么吗?你一定会觉得我很无可救药 - 我在写一本书.三个礼拜前开始写的,而且进度惊人.哲维少爷和那位男编辑说的没错:写自己熟悉的东西最能令人信服.这次我写的是我熟悉的东西 - 非常的熟悉.猜猜看故事的背景在哪里?在孤儿院.而且我真的觉得写得不错,我写的是那些每天发生的小事.现在的我是一个实际主义者.我已经放弃浪漫主义,不过当我未来的人生冒险展开时,我应该会再转回去浪漫主义.


这本书一定会写完而且出版.你等著看吧.如果你非常想要达成某个目标,而且努力的朝目标前进,最后你一定会达到的.我已经努力了好几年希望能收到一封你的信 - 而我还没有放弃希望.

再见,Daddy dear.

(我喜欢叫你Daddy dear,因为有押头韵,很好听啊.)

衷心的,
茱蒂

PS 忘了跟你提农场的事,虽然很令人沮丧.如果你不希望心情不好,或许应该略过以下不读.

可怜的老葛列佛去世了.牠无法吃草,他们只好给牠一枪.

昨天一只黄鼠狼或臭鼬或老鼠杀死了九只鸡.

有一头母牛病了,我们得从镇上请兽医来看她.阿玛萨整夜没睡顾牛,给她喝亚麻子油和威士忌.我们非常怀疑可怜的牛只喝到亚麻子油而已.

忧郁汤米不见了(三花猫),我们担心他掉入某个捕兽陷阱里.(注)

这个世上烦人的事还真多.

注:茱蒂用 he 来指忧郁汤米,事实上三花猫都是女的,男的是基因异常,可见得茱蒂没有我懂猫.(抬头插腰)有注意到三花猫的英文名字是 tortoise-shell吗?是玳瑁壳的意思喔.

三月五日

亲爱的理事先生:

明天是本月的第一个星期三 - 一个令人疲倦的日子.五点钟到来时,当你们拍拍孤儿院小孩的头然后离去时,小孩们会大大的松口气.你曾经拍过我的头吗,Daddy?我觉得没有 - 我的记忆似乎只侷限在胖胖的理事身上.

当你明天去孤儿院时,请为我献上最真诚的问候.回头看过去这迷濛的四年,心中升起一股温柔的情感.初进大学时我心中充满怨恨,因为我被剥夺了所有女孩该有的正常童年;但现在我却一点也不这么认为.我把那当成一场非常不一样的冒险,让我可以站在一个比较有利的角度看待人生.我已长大成人,看待世界的角度和那些衣食无缺的人比起来是全然不同的.

我认识很多女孩(例如茱莉亚)从来不知道自己是幸福的.她们是如此的习惯于幸福,以至于对幸福麻木;至于我 - 我深信生命中的每一刻都是幸福的.而且我要继续幸福下去,不管有什么不愉快的事发生.我要把不愉快的事情(即使是牙痛)当成有趣的经验,而且庆幸知道不愉快是什么感觉.“不管头上的天空如何,我有心接受任何命运.”

不过,请别把我对孤儿院的新感觉看得过于认真.如果我跟卢梭一样有五个小孩,我是不会为了确保他们能单纯的长大而把他们留在孤儿院门口的阶梯上的.

请帮我问候丽柏太太(献上问候是真心的,献上爱有点太过了),别忘了跟她说我培养出多美丽的性情.

衷心的,
茱蒂

LOCK WILLOW,

4th April

Dear Daddy,

柳树农场

四月四日

亲爱的Daddy;

你有注意到邮戳吗?在复活节假期,莎莉和我决定用我们的存在点缀一下柳树农场.最佳利用这十天假期的方式,是来到这安静的柳树农场.我们无法忍受在宿舍用餐.当你很疲倦时,和四百个女孩在一室用餐是一种折磨.餐厅吵闹到你听不到对面的人在讲什么,除非把手圈起来大叫.真的.

我们走路,阅读,写字,享受愉快放松的时光.今天我们爬上天空之丘,哲维少爷和我曾在那儿煮过晚饭 - 想不到那已经是两年前的事了.我还可以看到被我们用烟燻黑的石头.有些地方总是跟某些人有关联,当你再度造访时,总是会想起那些人.没有他在我感到有点孤单 - 两分钟而已.

知道我最近在忙什么吗?你一定会觉得我很无可救药 - 我在写一本书.三个礼拜前开始写的,而且进度惊人.哲维少爷和那位男编辑说的没错:写自己熟悉的东西最能令人信服.这次我写的是我熟悉的东西 - 非常的熟悉.猜猜看故事的背景在哪里?在孤儿院.而且我真的觉得写得不错,我写的是那些每天发生的小事.现在的我是一个实际主义者.我已经放弃浪漫主义,不过当我未来的人生冒险展开时,我应该会再转回去浪漫主义.

这本书一定会写完而且出版.你等著看吧.如果你非常想要达成某个目标,而且努力的朝目标前进,最后你一定会达到的.我已经努力了好几年希望能收到一封你的信 - 而我还没有放弃希望.

再见,Daddy dear.

(我喜欢叫你Daddy dear,因为有押头韵,很好听啊.)

衷心的,
茱蒂

PS 忘了跟你提农场的事,虽然很令人沮丧.如果你不希望心情不好,或许应该略过以下不读.

可怜的老葛列佛去世了.牠无法吃草,他们只好给牠一枪.

昨天一只黄鼠狼或臭鼬或老鼠杀死了九只鸡.

有一头母牛病了,我们得从镇上请兽医来看她.阿玛萨整夜没睡顾牛,给她喝亚麻子油和威士忌.我们非常怀疑可怜的牛只喝到亚麻子油而已.

忧郁汤米不见了(三花猫),我们担心他掉入某个捕兽陷阱里.(注)

这个世上烦人的事还真多.

注:茱蒂用 he 来指忧郁汤米,事实上三花猫都是女的,男的是基因异常,可见得茱蒂没有我懂猫.(抬头插腰)有注意到三花猫的英文名字是 tortoise-shell吗?是玳瑁壳的意思喔.

五月十七日

亲爱的长腿叔叔:

这封信会很短,因为我一看到笔就肩膀酸痛.抄了整天的上课笔记,写了整晚我的不朽名著,我真的是写太多了.

从下周三算起,再三个星期就是毕业典礼了.我想也许你会愿意来参加并认识我一下 - 如果你不来我会恨你的.茱莉亚邀请哲维少爷当她的家人代表,而莎莉的家人代表则是她哥哥吉米;而我要邀请谁呢?只有你和丽柏太太,但我一点也不想邀请她,所以请你务必前来.

带著作家的酸痛肩膀,
茱蒂