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Burnett, Frances Hodgson, 1849-1924

"The Shuttle"

That is the whole thing, and you--just you, father--will
understand me when I say that I actually like it. I might not like it
if I were poor Rosy, but, being myself, I love it. There is something
patriarchal in it which moves me.
"Is it an abounding and arrogant delight in power which makes it appeal
to me, or is it something better? To feel that every man on the
land, every woman, every child knew one, counted on one's honour and
friendship, turned to one believingly in time of stress, to know that
one could help and be a finely faithful thing, the very knowledge of
it would give one vigour and warm blood in the veins. I wish I had been
born to it, I wish the first sounds falling on my newborn ears had been
the clanging of the peal from an old Norman church tower, calling out
to me, 'Welcome; newcomer of our house, long life among us! Welcome!'
Still, though the first sounds that greeted me were probably the
rattling of a Fifth Avenue stage, I have brought them SOMETHING, and
who knows whether I could have brought it from without the range of that
prosaic, but cheerful, rattle."
The rest of the letter was detail of a business-like order. A large
envelope contained the detail-notes of things to be done, notes
concerning roofs, windows, flooring, park fences, gardens, greenhouses,
tool houses, potting sheds, garden walls, gates, woodwork, masonry.


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