Jan. 25, 1827.

My dear brother The dog and the colt went down to-day with our boy for me and the colt went before and then the horse and slay and dog—­I went to a party and I danced a great deal and was very happy—­I read french stories—­The colt plays very much—­and follows the horse when it is out.  Your affectionate brother,

James R. Lowell.

I forgot to tell you that sister mary has not given me any present but
I have got three books

Nov. 2, 1828.

My Dear Brother,—­I am now going to tell you melancholy news.  I have got the ague together with a gumbile.  I presume you know that September has got a lame leg, but he grows better every day and now is very well but limps a little.  We have a new scholar from round hill, his name is Hooper and we expect another named Penn who I believe also comes from there.  The boys are all very well except Nemaise, who has got another piece of glass in his leg and is waiting for the doctor to take it out, and Samuel Storrow is also sick.  I am going to have a new suit of blue broadcloth clothes to wear every day and to play in.  Mother tells me I may have any sort of buttons I choose.  I have not done anything to the hut, but if you wish I will.  I am now very happy; but I should be more so if you were there.  I hope you will answer my letter if you do not I shall write you no more letters, when you write my letters you must direct them all to me and not write half to mother as generally do.  Mother has given me the three volumes of tales of a grandfather

  farewell
     Yours truly James R. Lowell.

You must excuse me for making so many mistakes.  You must keep what I have told you about my new clothes a secret if you don’t I shall not divulge any more secrets to you.  I have got quite a library.  The Master has not taken his rattan out since the vacation.  Your little kitten is as well and as playful as ever and I hope you are to for I am sure I love you as well as ever.  Why is grass like a mouse you cant guess that he he he ho ho ho ha ha ha hum hum hum.

Young Lowell’s life was so very quiet and uneventful that we have very little account of his boyhood and youth.  We know, however, that he was fond of books and was rather lazy, and did pretty much as he pleased.  A poem which in later years he dedicated to his friend Charles Eliot Norton gives a very good picture of the life at Elmwood: 

  The wind is roistering out of doors,
  My windows shake and my chimney roars;
  My Elmwood chimneys seem crooning to me,
  As of old, in their moody, minor key,
  And out of the past the hoarse wind blows,
  As I sit in my arm-chair and toast my toes.

  “Ho! ho! nine-and-forty,” they seem to sing,
  “We saw you a little toddling thing. 
  We knew you child and youth and man,
  A wonderful fellow to dream and plan,
  With a great thing always to come,—­who knows? 
  Well, well! ’tis some comfort to toast one’s toes.