In any case, I packed my trunk fast and came up here.  I thought I’d better see my bridges in flames behind me before I finished writing to you.  They are entirely reduced to ashes now.  Here I am at Cliff Top (the name of Mrs. Paterson’s cottage) with my trunk unpacked and Florence (the little one) already struggling with first declension nouns.  And it bids fair to be a struggle!  She is a most uncommonly spoiled child; I shall have to teach her first how to study—­she has never in her life concentrated on anything more difficult than ice-cream soda water.

We use a quiet corner of the cliffs for a schoolroom—­Mrs. Paterson wishes me to keep them out of doors—­and I will say that I find it difficult to concentrate with the blue sea before me and ships a-sailing by!  And when I think I might be on one, sailing off to foreign lands—­ but I won’t let myself think of anything but Latin Grammar.

The prepositions a or ab, absque, coram, cum, de e or ex, prae, pro, sine, tenus, in, subter, sub and super govern the ablative.

So you see, Daddy, I am already plunged into work with my eyes persistently set against temptation.  Don’t be cross with me, please, and don’t think that I do not appreciate your kindness, for I do—­always—­always.  The only way I can ever repay you is by turning out a Very Useful Citizen (Are women citizens?  I don’t suppose they are.) Anyway, a Very Useful Person.  And when you look at me you can say, `I gave that Very Useful Person to the world.’

That sounds well, doesn’t it, Daddy?  But I don’t wish to mislead you.  The feeling often comes over me that I am not at all remarkable; it is fun to plan a career, but in all probability I shan’t turn out a bit different from any other ordinary person.  I may end by marrying an undertaker and being an inspiration to him in his work. 
Yours ever,
Judy

19th August
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

My window looks out on the loveliest landscape—­ocean-scape, rather—­ nothing but water and rocks.

The summer goes.  I spend the morning with Latin and English and algebra and my two stupid girls.  I don’t know how Marion is ever going to get into college, or stay in after she gets there.  And as for Florence, she is hopeless—­but oh! such a little beauty.  I don’t suppose it matters in the least whether they are stupid or not so long as they are pretty?  One can’t help thinking, though, how their conversation will bore their husbands, unless they are fortunate enough to obtain stupid husbands.  I suppose that’s quite possible; the world seems to be filled with stupid men; I’ve met a number this summer.

In the afternoon we take a walk on the cliffs, or swim, if the tide is right.  I can swim in salt water with the utmost ease you see my education is already being put to use!

A letter comes from Mr. Jervis Pendleton in Paris, rather a short concise letter; I’m not quite forgiven yet for refusing to follow his advice.  However, if he gets back in time, he will see me for a few days at Lock Willow before college opens, and if I am very nice and sweet and docile, I shall (I am led to infer) be received into favour again.