Much hard work here.
Lots of love to all
Roald
LETTER 04
SHE’S NOT A BONE!
Lewis Carroll to Alexandra Kitchin
21 August 1873
Alexandra ‘Xie’ Kitchin was born in 1864 to the Dean of Durham, Reverend George Kitchin, and his wife, Alice. From an early age, Xie – and to a lesser extent her three brothers, Herbert, Hugh and Brook, as well as her sister Dorothy Maud Mary – regularly sat for portraits taken by an old school friend of her father’s, Charles Dodgson. Dodgson is better known as Lewis Carroll, author of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Carroll photographed all of the Kitchins, but it was with Xie in particular that he shared a sense of humour, as evidenced by this letter, written when she was nine.
THE LETTER
Christ Church, Oxford
August 21, 1873
My dear Xie,
Poor, poor Hugh and Brook! Have you quite forgotten that you’ve got three brothers? Why mayn’t they choose photographs too? I said “the children,” you know. But perhaps you will say they are not children, but that you and Herbert are the only two children, and they are two little old men. Well, well, perhaps they are: and then of course they won’t care about photographs: but they do look very young, I must say.
The day after you went, I passed by your garden, and saw the little pug-dog wandering in and out, and it turned up its nose at me. So I went up to it and said, “It is not good manners to turn up your nose at people!” Its eyes filled with tears, and it said, “I wasn’t doing it at you, Sir! It was only to keep myself from crying.” “But what are you crying about, little pug-dog?” said I. The poor little dog rubbed its paws over its eyes, and said, “Because my Ex—” “Because your Extravagance has ruined you?” I said. “Then let it be a lesson to you not to be extravagant. You should only spend a halfpenny a year.” “No, it’s not that,” said the little dog. “It’s because my Ex—” “Because your Excellent master, Mr. Kitchin, is gone?” I said. “No!” said the little dog. “Do let me finish the word! It’s because my Exie is gone!” “Well! What of that?” I said. “She’s only a child! She’s not a bone!”
“No,” said the pug: “she’s not a bone.”
“Now, tell me the truth,” I said. “Which do you like best? Xie, or a bone?”
The little dog thought for a minute, and then he said, “She’s very ‘bonne,’ you know: that means ‘good’ in French. But she’s not so good as a bone!”
Wasn’t it an interesting conversation? Tell me what photographs Hugh and Brook choose: and give my love to them, and to Herbert: and take a leetle tiny slice of it for yourself.
Yours very affectionately,
C. L. Dodgson
LETTER 05
WHY NOT SEND AN ARMY OF BULL PUPS NEXT TIME?
Richard Richardson to The Stars and Stripes
August 1921
Born in 1916, Stubby the bull terrier was the official mascot of the 102nd Infantry Regiment and famously served on the Western Front for almost two years, during which time he stood guard for his human companions and even, on one occasion, held down a German soldier until back-up arrived. Stubby remains the only dog to be promoted to sergeant through combat. But despite his heroics, not everyone admired this dog. The following letter, written by an amusingly bitter war veteran, was sent to, and reprinted in, the Stars and Stripes military newspaper.
THE LETTERS
Editor, The Stars and Stripes:
I see a big write-up in one of the newspapers of a dog that has received many honors and medals for his World War record. It doesn’t strike me just right, and I’m writing this for publication just to show what one ex-soldier thinks of such a thing.
It is natural for a dog to follow his master, anybody knows that. Stubby followed his master to the front willingly no doubt. But did the dog have any idea at all where he was following his master to. No; and I’ll say if he had he would have whipped his master and the whole company to keep from going.
But Stubby followed his master through the engagements some will say. Of course, he did, but what else could he have done? He was sneaking around with his tail tucked and wanting to run, but not knowing which way to run. He stuck with his master expecting him to see him through. For this Stubby gets all those medals and the name “a real hero.”
But the thousands of real heroes, the red-blooded American boys who left gallons of their blood and maybe an arm and a leg on the battlefields don’t get these honors bestowed on them. They didn’t do anything to receive a medal or the name “a real hero.” But a dog did.
If this Boston bull did so much and the boys didn’t do anything, why not send an army of bull pups the next time and see who is entitled to these honors? I think the whole thing is nothing but a disgrace to the U. S. Army. I feel that I am insulted, and if every other American service man doesn’t feel the same way about it I’d like to know what kind of tastes they have.
Maybe there is one or two in the world (there ought to be more than that) who think I haven’t given the dog a square deal and that I don’t look at the thing in the right way. If there is I would appreciate a letter showing me where I am wrong.
RICHARD L. RICHARDSON
Box 239, San Angelo, Tex.
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