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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.

This town is stilish, gay and fair,And full of wellthy riches rare,But I would pillow on my armThe thought of my sweet Brookside Farm.

School is pretty good. The Teacher can answermore questions than the Temperance one but not somany as I can ask. I am smarter than all the girlsbut one but not so smart as two boys. Emma Janecan add and subtract in her head like a streek oflightning and knows the speling book right throughbut has no thoughts of any kind. She is in theThird Reader but does not like stories in books. Iam in the Sixth Reader but just because I cannotsay the seven multiplication Table Miss Dearbornthrettens to put me in the baby primer class withElijah and Elisha Simpson little twins.

Sore is my heart and bent my stubborn pride,With Lijah and with Lisha am I tied,My soul recoyles like Cora Doctor's Wife,Like her I feer I cannot bare this life.

I am going to try for the speling prize but fearI cannot get it. I would not care but wrong spelinglooks dreadful in poetry. Last Sunday when Ifound seraphim in the dictionary I was ashamed Ihad made it serrafim but seraphim is not a word youcan guess at like another long one outlandish in thisletter which spells itself. Miss Dearborn says usethe words you CAN spell and if you cant spell seraphimmake angel do but angels are not just the sameas seraphims. Seraphims are brighter whiter andhave bigger wings and I think are older and longerdead than angels which are just freshly dead andafter a long time in heaven around the great whitethrone grow to be seraphims.

I sew on brown gingham dresses every afternoonwhen Emma Jane and the Simpsons are playinghouse or running on the Logs when their mothersdo not know it. Their mothers are afraid they willdrown and Aunt M. is afraid I will wet my clothesso will not let me either. I can play from half pastfour to supper and after supper a little bit and Saturdayafternoons. I am glad our cow has a calf and itis spotted. It is going to be a good year for applesand hay so you and John will be glad and we canpay a little more morgage. Miss Dearborn asked uswhat is the object of edducation and I said the objectof mine was to help pay off the morgage. She toldAunt M. and I had to sew extra for punishment becauseshe says a morgage is disgrace like stealingor smallpox and it will be all over town that we haveone on our farm. Emma Jane is not morgaged norRichard Carter nor Dr. Winship but the Simpsonsare.

Rise my soul, strain every nerve,Thy morgage to remove,Gain thy mother's heartfelt thanksThy family's grateful love.

Pronounce family QUICK or it won't sound rightYour loving little friendRebeccaDear John,--You remember when we tide thenew dog in the barn how he bit the rope andhowled I am just like him only the brick house isthe barn and I can not bite Aunt M. because Imust be grateful and edducation is going to be themaking of me and help you pay off the morgagewhen we grow up. Your lovingBecky.

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