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I got many lovely Christmas gifts and Christmas cards, but yours is the only one that brought tears to my eyes. Of course, I shall keep it and love to have it, and I thank you very much for it. What a wonderful old face! She is older here than when I saw her last. I know that chiefly because her hair is so much thinner, but the eyes have all their old fire. In the time of my first memories of her, she had the most wonderful reddish auburn hair, so wavy that it was almost crinkly. And her skin, too, was brown, or had a brownish shade. I think it is very kind of you to send me this photograph. You must have realized from my letter that I was very fond of dear Mrs. Anderson3.
Your Uncle Snowden4, too, I remember very distinctly. I do not wonder that he was your favorite uncle. There was something very fine about Snowden. I always liked to see him. Once, when I was about five years old and somebody had driven Marjorie5 and me up to your grandmother's house on Timber Ridge, a violent rainstorm came up. Marjorie and I were supposed to walk home6, because the road was downhill all the way. Marjorie had stout shoes, but I wore little slippers. Snowden came up from his house on the Hollow Road, on a gray horse, and took me home in front of him, holding the reins with one hand and keeping his other arm around me to steady me on the old cavalry saddle. He had on an old gray Confederate overcoat, which I suppose had been his father's. I remember how contended and safe I felt. Children know when people are honest and good. They don't reason about it, they just know.
Thank you again, dear Mrs. Ackroyd, for this photograph of that dear old face. I
shall keep it as long as I live, and I only wish such a photograph had come to me
us while my
mother7 was still living. She would have loved to see it.