A Letter and a Gift
Posted: Tue May 16, 2017 6:32 am
Another letter arrives for one Glenn Burnie, this one again in the heavy-handed slop that is Aloisius Treadwell's script. Accompanying it is a fairly long box, perhaps three feet or so, addressed "TO: MR. BURNIE" and "FROM: ALOISIUS," and containing a masterfully made umbrella with a crimson shade, a wooden shaft and spiral-carved handle, and a small garnet embedded in the base.
= = = = = = = = =
Fifth month, 217 A.R.
From my office at the Church of Tubbius, Myrkentown
Dearest Glenn,
It has only been a few months, this time, rather than a year, as these things usually go. In one of your last notes, you had said something about my being a center of peace and normalcy in Myrken Wood. I write you today to let you know that such is still quite the same. I have changed none, save getting a little older and a little rounder. Of my siblings, only Langley, my elder brother, remains, though he has taken on being my right hand in Church affairs recently and is settling into that very well. My wife Alice still stays at home with the youngest of the children and the family servants. Of pets, Arnold, my horse, still lumbers along pulling my coach; Pinky, my--as you once noted!--"thrice-damned sow," still occupies her favorite wallow of mud with easy access to her slop. Of my eldest children, in order, Babette is still off doing whatever her silly, young woman's head wills; Gideon still works as a baker for two of my loyal faithful; Nicholas is growing into manhood, so he began working for me in the toy shop last winter (a wonderful craftsman!) and joined my Church three months past; his twin sister Arella is becoming a young woman. That I have bumblingly put into her step-mother's hands, as I have only raised one daughter from infancy to womanhood, and that was when Babette was born over thirty years ago.
Of the youngest children, Egbert and Gwendolyn are but eight years. They are taking well to their tutoring and studies, with the two of them showing a liking for cooking under my butler, Gregory, in particular. We shall see what becomes of that, I reckon. Frederick, now six, has taken to helping out around the house where his little legs can take him. He usually is quite the mess at the day's end, showing a certain favoritism toward helping his old father with Pinky when allowed. It suits him, of course. He was born with the tail of a pig, after all, so why ought he not enjoy spending time with them? In years to come, he will, after all, head the largest of pig farms outside Swinstead, though he certainly does not know such yet. Gabriel and Gertrude, the youngest twins, are but four, now, doing little more than playing and eating--young Treadwells, yet! And last, Harvell--my dear Harvey, the child of my old age!--turns three years in just under two months! With him, it has been a most trying season, dear Glenn! He is, however, well-mannered enough for the occasional ride with his father in the old tub's wheeled chair from time to time.
As for the rest of the town, Myrkentown is still quite in order. It seems to me that the mess with the False Tubbians that I mentioned earlier has resolved itself without my doing much. The Broken Dagger is doing splendid business, even if someone did steal my cushioned barstool at some time and has never seen fit to return it. My toy shop is doing excellent and well; I have even taken as of recent weeks to making toy boats for children to sail and working umbrellas for their parents to keep cool as they go to enjoy the lake. I tell you, sir, that those little crafts are bothersome enough to make, but, dear me, they help line the pockets!
You shall find one such for you in the box accompanying this letter. It is some of my best work, I think. I have tested it myself, and it should be quite the boon in these summer months.
Now, I ought to go see to writing this next meeting's sermon and enjoying a late lunch.
Your "flabullient" friend (as you spelled it once),
Aloisius Horatio Treadwell
= = = = = = = = =
Fifth month, 217 A.R.
From my office at the Church of Tubbius, Myrkentown
Dearest Glenn,
It has only been a few months, this time, rather than a year, as these things usually go. In one of your last notes, you had said something about my being a center of peace and normalcy in Myrken Wood. I write you today to let you know that such is still quite the same. I have changed none, save getting a little older and a little rounder. Of my siblings, only Langley, my elder brother, remains, though he has taken on being my right hand in Church affairs recently and is settling into that very well. My wife Alice still stays at home with the youngest of the children and the family servants. Of pets, Arnold, my horse, still lumbers along pulling my coach; Pinky, my--as you once noted!--"thrice-damned sow," still occupies her favorite wallow of mud with easy access to her slop. Of my eldest children, in order, Babette is still off doing whatever her silly, young woman's head wills; Gideon still works as a baker for two of my loyal faithful; Nicholas is growing into manhood, so he began working for me in the toy shop last winter (a wonderful craftsman!) and joined my Church three months past; his twin sister Arella is becoming a young woman. That I have bumblingly put into her step-mother's hands, as I have only raised one daughter from infancy to womanhood, and that was when Babette was born over thirty years ago.
Of the youngest children, Egbert and Gwendolyn are but eight years. They are taking well to their tutoring and studies, with the two of them showing a liking for cooking under my butler, Gregory, in particular. We shall see what becomes of that, I reckon. Frederick, now six, has taken to helping out around the house where his little legs can take him. He usually is quite the mess at the day's end, showing a certain favoritism toward helping his old father with Pinky when allowed. It suits him, of course. He was born with the tail of a pig, after all, so why ought he not enjoy spending time with them? In years to come, he will, after all, head the largest of pig farms outside Swinstead, though he certainly does not know such yet. Gabriel and Gertrude, the youngest twins, are but four, now, doing little more than playing and eating--young Treadwells, yet! And last, Harvell--my dear Harvey, the child of my old age!--turns three years in just under two months! With him, it has been a most trying season, dear Glenn! He is, however, well-mannered enough for the occasional ride with his father in the old tub's wheeled chair from time to time.
As for the rest of the town, Myrkentown is still quite in order. It seems to me that the mess with the False Tubbians that I mentioned earlier has resolved itself without my doing much. The Broken Dagger is doing splendid business, even if someone did steal my cushioned barstool at some time and has never seen fit to return it. My toy shop is doing excellent and well; I have even taken as of recent weeks to making toy boats for children to sail and working umbrellas for their parents to keep cool as they go to enjoy the lake. I tell you, sir, that those little crafts are bothersome enough to make, but, dear me, they help line the pockets!
You shall find one such for you in the box accompanying this letter. It is some of my best work, I think. I have tested it myself, and it should be quite the boon in these summer months.
Now, I ought to go see to writing this next meeting's sermon and enjoying a late lunch.
Your "flabullient" friend (as you spelled it once),
Aloisius Horatio Treadwell