Monday Night.
[MY DARLING Boy:]
You went off in such a hurry that it took my breath at
the last. You say coming down helps you. It
certainly does me. It brings a real sunshine to Papa and me.
He was saying that to-day. I gave Nolly a sort of holiday
after her miseries last night. We went down street and got
Papa a present for our wedding day, a picture, after all, and
then I took Miss Baker some tickets for a concert. I saw her
father who said he "must speak about my noble looking boy." I
always thought him a genius but now I think him a man of
penetration as well. Then Nolly and I went over to see the
Russians. But they are closely boxed up and not allowed
to-day to see visitors. So we came home cross and hungry.
All evening I have been writing business letters.
Papa has gone to a reception and Charley is hard at work
at his desk.
I answered Mr. Allen's letter this morning, dear, and
told him you would talk to him. When you do, dear, talk
freely to him as to me. You will not perhaps agree with all
he says. But your own thoughts will be healthier for bringing
them — as I might say, out of doors. You saw how it was by
coming down here. Love of Christ is not a melancholy nor a
morbid thing, dear love, but ought to make one more social and
cheerful and alive.
I wish you could come home oftener. Try and get ahead
with lessons so that you can come oftener. And when you feel
as if prayer was a burden, stop praying and go out and try to
put your Christianity into real action by doing some
kindness — even speaking in a friendly way to somebody. Bring
yourself into contact with new people — not John, Hugh, Uncle
and Grandma, and try to act to them as Christ would have you
act, and my word for it, you will go home with a new light on
your own relations to Him and a new meaning for your prayers.
You remember the
prayer "give me a great thought to refresh me." I think you
will find some great thoughts in human beings — they will help
you to understand yourself and God, when you try to help them
God makes you happy my darling.
MAMA.
It was in this year that Richard enjoyed the thrill of
seeing in print his first contribution to a periodical. The
date of this important event, important, at least, to my
brother, was February 1, the fortunate publication was
Judge, and the effusion was entitled "The Hat and Its
Inmate." Its purport was an overheard conversation between
two young ladies at a matinee and the editors thought so well
of it that for the privilege of printing the article they gave
Richard a year's subscription to Judge. His scrap-book of
that time shows that in 1884 Life published a short
burlesque on George W. Cable's novel, "Dr. Sevier," and in
the same year The Evening Post paid him $1.05 for an
article about "The New Year at Lehigh." It was also in the
spring of 1884 that Richard published his first book, "The
Adventures of My Freshman," a neat little paper-covered volume
including half a dozen of the short stories that had already
appeared in The Lehigh Burr. In writing in a copy of this
book in later years, Richard said: "This is a copy of the
first book of mine published. My family paid to have it
printed and finding no one else was buying it, bought up the
entire edition. Finding the first edition had gone so
quickly, I urged them to finance a second one, and when they
were unenthusiastic I was hurt. Several years later when I
found the entire edition in our attic, I understood their
reluctance. The reason the book
did not sell is, I think, because some one must have read it."
In the summer of 1882 Richard went to Boston, and in the
following letter unhesitatingly expressed his opinion of that
city and its people.
