I am fourteen years old to-day, June 17th, 1905. Pa said he hoped I would live to be at least one hundred, because my Aunt Annie wanted me to be a boy, so she could name me Jack; she had a beau by that name and then married him, and he married some one else, so had two wives at once, and got put in jail. Pa says he’s a live wire. I have seen his picture, but I thought he looked too stupid to get two wives at once. I would think a man would have to be very smart and step lively to get two wives at once. Pa says he has stepped over all the good he had in him he reckons.
I am learning to drive a big touring car, the Franklin, Model G. It’s a cracker jack car, just let me tell you. The manager is the nicest man I ever saw. He said I looked like Pa—that’s why I think he is so nice—my Pa is the very nicest man I ever saw. Then Levey Cohen comes next to the Franklin car manager. If you want a good car that can pick up her feet and fly on the road, you get a Franklin, and you will find that the finest car made is the Franklin. I am in love with my car. Pa says I know a whole lot for my age, almost as much as a boy. I am glad I am a girl, boys are horrid sometimes; they don’t like to spend all their money to buy chocolates for the girls. Ma says Pa sent her a five-pound box every Sunday. Pa says nearly all boys are good for is to play ball, and smash windows, and cry, if they have to pay for them. Pa says I will change my mind when I grow up, but I am not going to grow up. I have seen Peter Pan, and I like wings, and angel cake, very much indeed. Next to my Pa, comes chocolates—I like all the good ones. Levey Cohen says I am a sugar-plum, but Pa says I need a whole lot of sugar yet, to be very sweet. I told him I knew flies could tell the boys that were sweet, because some of their mothers put molasses on their hair to keep it smooth,—Johnnie Alton has lots of flies around his head,—and I wondered why, so one day I put my finger on his hair when he wasn’t looking, and pressed just a little, and the hair cracked. My, he was mad. He said, “Cut-it-out,” and I said, “Oh, Johnnie, you would look too funny.”
Now about my motor car. I took my first lesson of the manager the other day; he says I will be going up the sides of the houses before long if I don’t look to the wheel more. I like to let the machine go after she starts. Surely those lights ought to show the way. My, how she will go. Levey Cohen says I am a nice girl and when I get big he is going to marry me. Well, I don’t think I will get married. Pa says I had better stick to him and Ma, and, anyway, I am having lots of fun. I went out alone in my car. I went all right for awhile, but there always comes a time when a car won’t go, and I got that time out in Brookline near Dr. Jones’ house. I went in and telephoned for the manager to come for me—he came in another car and towed me home. I don’t like that. I told Pa I hoped that car wouldn’t lose its breath again, and now in four weeks she has done fine.
I can’t write always every day. I write a whole lot when I feel like it, then I don’t think of it again for weeks. Pa says he nearly died laughing reading the diary Ma made. I shall give my diary to Levey Cohen when we are married—I suppose I shall have to marry him some day, just to prove to him that I don’t like him any too well. Pa says that you had better not marry any one you really care for, then you won’t need to expect to find any letters in their pockets—Pa’s pockets are always full of letters, he never thinks to mail them—and every week Ma and I take them to the post-office in a bag. When Pa begins to look like a bundle of straw with a string tied in the middle, Ma will say, “Elsie, it’s mail-time.” Sure as you live, Pa says he’s a walking post-office, but Ma says, “Yes, a dead-letter office out of date.” Now I will go for a spin in my car. It’s a fine day and the sooner I get started the longer I can be out, so bye-bye till later on, as we are going to see Barnum’s circus.
Pa and Levey Cohen and Ma and I all went to the circus. Really, it was very good—we all enjoyed it very much. Ma fed chocolates to the pet elephant and so did I. Pa and I took in some of the side-shows. What an awful cheat they are! We saw a sign that read: “Come in and see the $50,000 Horse, his tail where his head ought to be.” We paid our money and went in, and we saw the wonderful horse turned around in his stall—true, his head where his tail ought to be. Pa said he knew it was a big sell, and he laughed; said he would try again. A little further on we saw another sign that read: “See the wonder Dog—half bear.” Pa said that must be a novelty, so we went in, and saw a big Newfoundland black dog standing on a box half-shaved close. Pa said, “Which half is bear?” and the man said, “The half that was shaved, mister.” We looked up and saw a sign that read “Sciddoo!” We did. Pa said Barnum was a smart man—said he had fooled more people than any one man on earth, but the best of it all was they were just as eager to be fooled the next year. Pa says if that law about whiskers gets into force it will be mighty interesting for some good men like Dr. Parkhurst and Anthony Comstock. Neither of them poor devils will dare go out, except in the evening, and then the cop may get them for carrying about nude faces. Pa says it’s a bad place for microbes to settle down in a man’s beard. All the wise men I know goes smooth face and that’s the best way, I think. We have a Frenchman who is our gardener. He can’t talk very good English. He told Pa the other day, speaking of his memory of his childhood, that he could remember backwards very far. When he tried to harness the horse on our little farm he said to the horse: “You, good huss, just open your face now and take in your harness.” Pa says, brush away and come to dinner, so,
So long,
ELSIE.
P. S. Pa says here are some questions that half of the Public are asking the other half: Question—What is an automobile? Answer—A wagon with big rubbers on its feet. Name two uses of the automobile? Ans. To run people down and to run them in. What is the horn used for? Ans. To frighten the life out of one, so he will stand still and get run over. What’s the difference in running over a dog and a man? Ans. If you run over a dog it costs you $5, or if a man, 5 years. What is a constable? A man with the hoe who is too lazy to work, so arrests every man he sees in an automobile.
Pa says these are all for now.
E.
