درست قبل از نوشتن این نامه، نقل قولی را از نویسنده ای سرشناس خواندم که از جهتی شبیه من بود، او گفته بود نوشته های ناتمام زیادی دارم ، و به این نتیجه رسیده ام که تنها دلیل منتشر نکردن مطالبم ترس از قضاوت دیگران است.
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon--the sun is just setting ( a cold yellow color) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.
Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things--everything I have, you know --that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money?
to flake پوسته پوسته شدن
اواخر تعطیلات کریسمس، تاریخ دقیق ناشناخته است.
امسال اثاث اتاق ما قرمز است، ببینید چقدر جالب می شود اگر نارنجی و سیاه به رنگ قرمز اضافه شود. اما پارچه این پرچم از جنس نمد یا ماهوت است. خیلی گرم است، حیف است آن را خراب کنم، شما فکر می کنید اگر یک حوله ی حمام از آن درست کنم بد می شود؟ حوله حمام من آب رفته و به درد نمی خورد.
There is a March wind blowing, and the sky is filled with heavy, black moving clouds. The crows in the pine trees are making such a clamor! It's an intoxicating, exhilarating. CALLING noise. You want to close your books and be off over the hills to race with the wind.
We had a paper chase last Saturday over five miles of squashy 'cross country. The fox ( composed of three girls and a bushel or so of confetti ) started half an hour before the twenty-seven hunters. I was one of the trail led over a hill, through a cornfield, and into a swamp where we had to leap lightly from hummock to hummock. Of course half of us went in ankle deep. We kept losing the trail, and we wasted twenty-five minutes over that swamp. Then up a hill through some woods and in at a barn window! The barn doors were all locked and the window was up high and pretty small. I don't call that fair, do you?
But we didn't go through; we circumnavigated the barn and picked up the trail where it issued by way of a low shed roof on to the top of a fence. The fox thought he had us there, but we fooled him. Then straight away over two miles of rolling meadow, and awfully hard to follow, for the confetti was getting sparse. The rule is that it must be at the most six feet apart, but they were the longest six feet I ever saw. Finally, after two hours of steady trotting, we tracked Monsieur Fox into the kitchen of Crystal Spring ( that's a farm where the girls go in bob sleighs and hay wagons for chicken and waffle suppers ) and we found the three foxes placidly eating milk and honey and biscuits. They hadn't thought we would get that far; they were expecting us to stick in the barn window.
Both sides insist that they won. I think we did, don't you? Because we caught them before they got back to the campus. Anyway, all nineteen of us settled like locusts over the furniture and clamored for honey. There wasn't enough to go round, but Mrs. Crystal Spring ( that's our pet name for her; she's by rights a Johnson ) brought up a jar of strawberry jam and a can of maple syrup-- just made last week--and three loaves of brown bread.
We didn't get back to college till half-past six--half an hour late for dinner--and we went straight in without dressing, and with perfectly unimpaired appetites! Then we all cut evening chapel, the state of our boots being enough of an excuse.
I never told you about examinations. I passed everything with the utmost ease--I know the secret now, and am never going to fail again. I shan't be able to graduate with honors though, because of that beastly Latin prose and geometry Freshman year. But I don't care. Wot's the hodds so long as you're 'appy? (That's a quotation. I've been reading the English classics.)
Speaking of classics, have you ever read Hamlet? If you haven't, do it right off. It's PERFECTLY CORKING. I've been hearing about Shakespeare all my life, but I had no idea he really wrote so well; I always suspected him of going largely on his reputation.
I have a beautiful play that I invented a long time ago when I First learned to read. I put myself to sleep every night by pretending I'm the person ( the most important person ) in the book I'm reading at the moment.
At present I'm Ophelia--and such a sensible Ophelia! I keep Hamlet amused all the time, and pet him and scold him and make him wrap up his throat when he has a cold. I've entirely cured him of being melancholy. The king and Queen are both dead--an accident at sea; no funeral necessary--so Hamlet and I are ruling in Denmark without any bother. We have the kingdom working beautifully. He takes care of the governing, and I look after the charities. I have just founded some first-class orphan asylums. If you or any of the other Trustees would like to visit them, I shall be pleased to show you through. I think you might find a great many helpful suggestions. I remain, sir,
Yours most graciously,
OPHELIA, Queen of Denmark.