Australian Access Federation

You are here: Home Corpora Corpus of Oz Early English 4-382 (Text)

4-382 (Text)

Item metadata
Speaker:
addressee,female author,female,Turner, Ethel Sibyl,28
ns1:discourse_type
Letter
Word Count :
374
Plaint Text :
ns1:register
Private Written
ns1:texttype
Private Correspondence
ns1:localityName
http://dbpedia.org/resource/New_South_Wales
Created:
1898
Identifier
4-382
Source
Niall, 1998
pages
123
Document metadata
Extent:
2145
Identifier
4-382-plain.txt
Title
4-382#Text
Type
Text

4-382-plain.txt — 2 KB

File contents



To My SISTER LILIAN
It seems but yesterday when you were fifteen, I not far behind, and one of us was suddenly seized with a desire to write something.
And immediately the other was seized with the same overwhelming desire, - had we not all our little lives done everything together, and cared for nothing the other could not share?
We used to lock the bedroom door and write at the old marble washstand that was so generously roomy; no housewifery has ever been able since to take those ink-stains from its surface. Do you remember the characters we conjured up? Our heroes with their proud black eyes, and their invariable habit of grinding their heels into the gravel in moments of annoyance? My heroines, who had brown starry, heavily lashed eyes, and were always attired in clinging cream dresses, with one crimson rosebud nestling in their regal coronets of hair? Yours, who had dreamy violet orbs, wore robes of dead white silk on every possible and impossible occasion, and were always drawing their slim, willowy figures up to their full height and gazing at their persecutors in noble indignation?
Oh, the paper we wasted, and the lessons we left undone that we ought to have done! Oh, the candles that burnt to their last breath, and used to flicker and go out near midnight, just when the whispered reading of closely written pages reached the most thrilling point!
You were never satisfied with your stories unless you could work in a murder, and your most harmless people used to kill each other for entirely insufficient reasons. I was never happy unless my favourite character or characters had died on beautiful death-beds to slow music. Do you remember that story I wrote where, when I scribbled "Finis" (we scorned the word "End"), there was no one left alive but the old, faithful servant - I mean retainer?
Our faith in each other in those days made our mutual criticisms gentle and our admiration boundless.
This plain little tale bears your name, and gleans its grace in bearing it. So the gift must make you as a child again, blind to all faults and pleased to offer praise.
E.S.C. / Mossman's BAY / SYDNEY

http://ns.ausnc.org.au/corpora/cooee/source/4-382#Text