-did you ever hear such an impertinent question to ask of a
person from a foundling asylum? I didn't have the courage to say I
didn't know, so I just miserably plumped on the first name I could
think of, and that was Montgomery. Then she wanted to know whether I
belonged to the Massachusetts Montgomerys or the Virginia Montgomerys.

Her mother was a Rutherford. The family came over in the ark, and were
connected by marriage with Henry the VIII. On her father's side they
date back further than Adam. On the topmost branches of her family
tree there's a superior breed of monkeys with very fine silky hair and
extra long tails.

I meant to write you a nice, cheerful, entertaining letter tonight, but
I'm too sleepy--and scared. The Freshman's lot is not a happy one.

Yours, about to be examined,
Judy Abbott

Sunday

Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,

I have some awful, awful, awful news to tell you, but I won't begin
with it; I'll try to get you in a good humour first.

Jerusha Abbott has commenced to be an author. A poem entitled, 'From
my Tower', appears in the February Monthly--on the first page, which is
a very great honour for a Freshman. My English instructor stopped me
on the way out from chapel last night, and said it was a charming piece
of work except for the sixth line, which had too many feet. I will
send you a copy in case you care to read it.

Let me see if I can't think of something else pleasant-- Oh, yes! I'm
learning to skate, and can glide about quite respectably all by myself.
Also I've learned how to slide down a rope from the roof of the
gymnasium, and I can vault a bar three feet and six inches high--I hope
shortly to pull up to four feet.

We had a very inspiring sermon this morning preached by the Bishop of
Alabama. His text was: 'Judge not that ye be not judged.' It was
about the necessity of overlooking mistakes in others, and not
discouraging people by harsh judgments. I wish you might have heard it.

This is the sunniest, most blinding winter afternoon, with icicles
dripping from the fir trees and all the world bending under a weight of
snow--except me, and I'm bending under a weight of sorrow.

Now for the news--courage, Judy!--you must tell.

Are you SURELY in a good humour? I failed in mathematics and Latin
prose. I am tutoring in them, and will take another examinatio