Hazel

December 26.

Darling Mother:—

Christmas day is like the Fourth of July, they set off fire crackers, and it is so warm that you wear summer dresses. I wore my white dress.

I read last night to Granny from the minister’s book. You know he wrote, not to be opened until Christmas. It is full of poems. The first one says:

There are babies living about here, only their mothers don’t wash them very much. There are no bath tubs and no hot water faucets. I take my bath in the wash tub.

December 27.

I went to Sunday school Sunday, and there were 16 children. The teacher comes from the school at Jonesville, 8 miles away. It is a fine school, as fine as the Jamaica Plains grammar school, and ladies from the North come down to teach. They teach only colored boys and girls.

The Sunday school was in the church, and all the boys and girls had bare feet. Some are so poor they had no pennies to bring, and guess, what do you think they put in the plate, EGGS!!! Only it was a hat. An egg is worth a penny, and I eat a great many of them.

They had the same singing books we have at Boston. Some kind ladies sent them down. The children sing much prettier than at home. The teeniest can sing alto.

Everybody is very poor. Not Granny, her sons have been good to her. People eat bacon. Granny often kills a chicken, but no one, not the richest people, eat roast beef.

December 28.

I forgot to tell you, mother darling, that the Sunday school teacher was colored. There were not any classes. She explained the lesson to everybody. I like her very much. She kissed me good-bye and told me to come again, but Sunday school is only once a month and so is church.

Tell Charity I wear the sun-bonnet some days, and Granny says I shall wear it more when the sun gets hot.

Darling Mother, I think of Father a great deal because I sleep in his bed and Granny showed me the first shoes he wore. They are all out at the toes. They are not little because he went barefoot. At first I used to cry but now I don’t. Granny says he was always jolly. I can make Granny laugh when I tell her about Boston. She pretends not to believe about elevators and sky-scrapers and telefones. I think she really doesn’t truly believe about telefones.

December 30.

You don’t mind if I sometimes skip a day, do you, Mother? Because sometimes I am busy. I am spinning. I am like Priscilla in Miles Standish. It is more fun to spin than to sew or cook or wash or iron. When Granny washes she makes a fire out-of-doors and boils water in a great big iron pot.

December 31.

I have written a New Year’s poem for you.

Your affectionate daughter,
Hazel Tyler.

January 1.

Dear Hazel,

A Happy New Year, darling! Last night I saw the Old Year out and the New Year in at the Perkins. There were thirty of us, and we sang, and Mr. Douglass played on his violin, until twelve o’clock. Then we all said Happy New Year to one another.

“I am spinning. I am like Priscilla in Miles Standish”

The New Year has begun well for me in my business. I have ten people I go to every week. Just think of it! That is ten dollars a week shampooing hair! They say I have a gentle touch. You used to like to have me wash your hair, do you remember? I hope you are taking good care of it.

You see I am getting quite rich. I do not do any laundry except Mrs. Hollingsworth’s. Mrs. Hollingsworth sent the pink tea gown the other day, and said it was not worth laundering again, and for me to keep it. So I have it for my little Queen of Sheba.

Charity helps me sometimes. I want to tell you that I have grown very fond of Charity. Her father is no account. He has gone away and her mother has to work out as a cook. That leaves Charity all alone until nine o’clock at night, so sometimes she comes up to see me. One afternoon, just before Christmas, I didn’t get home until seven at night, and I found Charity in the kitchen ironing. She had climbed up the fire-escape, opened the kitchen window, and dropped in. She looked up and said, “You bet now, I surprised you.” But when I looked at the ironing I was more surprised. I couldn’t have done it better.

Of course, I asked her to stay to supper, and we had griddle cakes and maple syrup and we talked about you. Then I told Charity stories. She didn’t know Cinderella, or Jack and the Beanstalk, and it was a real comfort to have her put her arms around me and bid me good-night. For it was Christmas Eve, Hazel dear. When she left I cuddled the kitty. I gave her a collar with a bell on it for Christmas.

We are having snow and cold east winds, while you are playing in the sunshine without a coat. Mr. Perkins pretends to be very provoked every time I see him, and says Boston has the finest climate in the world, but I am glad you are escaping it. It has snowed and thawed and rained and snowed again all in twenty-four hours.

The ladies in the church sewing-circle sent a box last week to a school for colored children at Jonesville. They tell me that it is quite near you. I wonder if you have heard of it.

I hope you are getting stronger every day, darling, and that when you come home Charity will have to lend you her clothes, you will be so plump.

Give Granny my love, and kiss pussy Lucy for me to-night. I have named my kitten for you.

Your loving,
Mother.