Dear Mr. Marcus D'artagnan: Part 2
Title: Dear Mr. Marcus D'artagnan
Rating: G
Pairing: KyuMin,
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Summary: Sungmin thought he would be forever stuck in an orphanage until this certain man came and decided to send him to college. Inspired from the classic tale, Daddy Long Legs, Sungmin takes over the life of a young college boy who writes to his "sponsor" to talk about his experiences and the new things he's been encountering.
Part 1
Disclaimer: The story isn't own by me, though I did edit some part of the story. For the future chapters, the story would undergo some major shifting and I hope it would all be for the better :) For now, please enjoy!
Towards the end of the Christmas vacation. Exact date unknown
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon-the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat, draped with a blanket and thought I should use the last light to write to you.
Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things-everything I have, you know-that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money?
I. A silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time.
II. Matthew Arnold's poems.
III. A hot water bottle.
IV. A steamer rug. (My tower is cold.)
V. Five hundred sheets of yellow manuscript paper. (I'm going to commence being an author pretty soon.)
VI. A dictionary of synonyms. (To enlarge the author's vocabulary.)
VII. (I don't much like to confess this last item, but I will.) A silk tie.
And now, Daddy, never say I don't tell all!
It was a very low motive, if you must know it, that prompted the silk tie. Cho Donghae comes into my room to do geometry, and he sits cross-legged on the couch and wears different silk ties every night. But just wait-as soon as he gets back from vacation I shall go in and sit on his couch while I am wearing my very special tie. You see, Daddy, the miserable creature that I am but at least I'm honest; and you knew already, from my asylum record, that I wasn't perfect, didn't you?
To recapitulate (that's the way the English instructor begins every other sentence), I am very much obliged for my seven presents. I'm pretending to myself that they came in a box from my family in California. The watch is from father, the rug from mother, the hot water bottle from grandmother who is always worrying for fear I shall catch cold in this climate-and the yellow paper from my little brother Sungjin. My sister gave me the silk tie, and Auntie the Matthew Arnold poems; Uncle Ryeowook (little Ryeowook is named after him) gave me the dictionary. He wanted to send chocolates, but I insisted on synonyms.
You don't object, do you, that I decided to play the part of a composite family?
And now, shall I tell you about my vacation, or are you only interested in my education as such? I hope you appreciate the delicate shade of meaning in 'as such'. It is the latest addition to my vocabulary.
The boy from Canada is named Henry Lau. I like him, but not so much as Lee Hyukjae; I shall never like any one so much as Hyukjae-except you. I must always like you the best of all, because you're my whole family rolled into one. Henry and I and two Sophomores have walked 'cross country every pleasant day and explored the whole neighbourhood, dressed in winter trousers, knit jackets and caps, and carrying shiny sticks to whack things with. Once we walked into town-four miles-and stopped at a restaurant where the college boys go for dinner. Broiled lobster (35 cents), and for dessert, buckwheat cakes and maple syrup (15 cents). Nourishing and cheap.
It was such a lark! Especially for me, because it was so awfully different from the asylum-I feel like an escaped convict every time I leave the campus. Before I thought, I started to tell the others what an experience I was having. It's awfully hard for me not to tell everything I know. I'm a very confiding soul by nature; if I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst.
We had a molasses candy pull last Friday evening, given by the house matron of Fergussen to the left-behinds in the other halls. There were twenty-two of us altogether, Freshmen and Sophomores and juniors and Seniors all united in amicable accord. The kitchen is huge, with copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall-the littlest casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler.
Four hundred boys live in Fergussen. The chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched out twenty-two other white caps and aprons-I can't imagine where he got so many-and we all turned ourselves into cooks.
It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlour, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. They accepted politely but hesitantly. We left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.
So you see, Daddy, my education progresses! I am not only turning to be a good man but a responsible one too! Who said women can only be the ones allowed in the kitchen?
Don't you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an author?
Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the boys again. My tower is just lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.
Eleven pages-poor Daddy, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a short little thank-you note-but when I get started I seem to have a ready pen.
Goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me-I should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations come in February.
Yours with love,
Min
PS. Maybe it isn't proper to send love? If it isn't, please excuse. But I must love somebody and there's only you and Mr Kim Heechul to choose between, so you see-you'll HAVE to put up with it, Daddy D'Artagnan, because I can't love him.
On the Eve
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
You should see the way this college is studying! We've forgotten we ever had a vacation. Fifty-seven irregular verbs have I introduced to my brain in the past four days-I'm only hoping they'll stay till after examinations.
Some of the girls sell their text-books when they're through with them, but I intend to keep mine. Then after I've graduated I shall have my whole education in a row in the bookcase, and when I need to use any detail, I can turn to it without the slightest hesitation. So much easier and more accurate than trying to keep it in your head.
Cho Donghae dropped in this evening to pay a social call, and stayed a solid hour. He got started on the subject of family, and I COULDN'T make him stop. He wanted to know what my mother's maiden name was-did you ever hear such an impertinent question to ask of a person from a foundling asylum? I didn't have the courage to say I didn't know, so I just miserably plumped on the first name I could think of, and that was Kim. Then he wanted to know whether I belonged to the Kim clan in Massachusettes or in Virginia.
To cut it short, Donghae only came by to tell me his “important” family background. I am not sure myself if I would like having an influential one but when people always know you, won’t that be hard to deal with? How can you be yourself when there’s already an image stamped before you can even prove your worth?
I meant to write you a nice, cheerful, entertaining letter tonight, but I'm too sleepy-and scared. The Freshman's lot is not a happy one.
Yours, about to be examined,
Lee Min
Sunday
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,
I have some awful, awful, awful news to tell you, but I won't begin with it; I'll try to get you in a good humour first.
Lee Sungmin has commenced to be an author. A poem entitled, 'From my Tower', appears in the February Monthly-on the first page, which is a very great honour for a Freshman. My English instructor stopped me on the way out from chapel last night, and said it was a charming piece of work except for the sixth line, which had too many feet. I will send you a copy in case you care to read it.
Let me see if I can't think of something else pleasant- Oh, yes! I'm learning to skate, and can glide about quite respectably all by myself. Also I've learned how to slide down a rope from the roof of the gymnasium, and I can vault a bar three feet and six inches high-I hope shortly to pull up to four feet.
We had a very inspiring sermon this morning preached by the Bishop of Alabama. His text was: 'Judge not that ye be not judged.' It was about the necessity of overlooking mistakes in others, and not discouraging people by harsh judgments. I wish you might have heard it.
This is the sunniest, most blinding winter afternoon, with icicles dripping from the fir trees and all the world bending under a weight of snow-except me, and I'm bending under a weight of sorrow.
Now for the news-courage, Min!-you must tell.
Are you SURELY in a good humour? I failed in mathematics and Latin prose. I am tutoring in them, and will take another examination next month. I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but otherwise I don't care a bit because I've learned such a lot of things not mentioned in the catalogue. I've read seventeen novels and bushels of poetry-really necessary novels like Vanity Fair and Richard Feverel and Alice in Wonderland. Also Emerson's Essays and Lockhart's Life of Scott and the first volume of Gibbon's Roman Empire and half of Benvenuto Cellini's Life-wasn't he entertaining? He used to saunter out and casually kill a man before breakfast.
So you see, Daddy, I'm much more intelligent than if I'd just stuck to Latin. Will you forgive me this once if I promise never to fail again?
Yours in a sackcloth,
Min
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
This is an extra letter in the middle of the month because I'm rather lonely tonight. It's awfully stormy and the weather’s getting to me. All the lights are out on the campus, but I drank black coffee and I can't go to sleep.
I had a supper party this evening consisting of Hyukjae, Donghae and Henry Lau-and sardines and toasted muffins and salad and fudge and coffee. Donghae said he'd had a good time, but Hyukjae stayed to help wash the dishes.
I might, very usefully, put some time on Latin tonight but, there's no doubt about it, I'm a very languid Latin scholar. We've finished Livy and De Senectute and are now engaged with De Amicitia (pronounced Damn Icitia).
Should you mind, just for a little while, pretending you are my grandmother? Hyukjae has one and Donghae and Henry each two, and they were all comparing them tonight. I can't think of anything I'd rather have; it's such a respectable relationship. So, if you really don't object-When I went into town yesterday, I saw a pocket watch to which I am sure you will like. I am going to make you a present of it on your eighty-third birthday.
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
That's the clock in the chapel tower striking twelve. I believe I am sleepy after all.
Good night, Granny.
I love you dearly.
Min
The Ides of March
Dear D.-L.-L.A.,
I am studying Latin prose composition. I have been studying it. I shall be studying it. I shall be about to have been studying it. My re-examination comes the 7th hour next Tuesday, and I am going to pass or BUST. So you may expect to hear from me next, whole and happy and free from conditions, or in fragments.
I will write a respectable letter when it's over. Tonight I have a pressing engagement with the Ablative Absolute.
Yours-in evident haste
L. S.
26th March
Mr. D.-L.-L. D'artagnan,
SIR: You never answer any questions; you never show the slightest interest in anything I do. You are probably the horridest one of all those horrid Trustees, and the reason you are educating me is, not because you care a bit about me, but from a sense of Duty.
I don't know a single thing about you. I don't even know your name.
It is very uninspiring writing to a Thing. I haven't a doubt but that you throw my letters into the waste-basket without reading them.
Hereafter I shall write only about work.
My re-examinations in Latin and geometry came last week. I passed them both and am now free from conditions.
Yours truly,
Lee Sungmin
2nd April
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I am a BEAST.
Please forget about that dreadful letter I sent you last week-I was feeling terribly lonely and miserable and sore-throaty the night I wrote. I didn't know it, but I was just sickening for tonsillitis and grippe and lots of things mixed. I'm in the infirmary now, and have been here for six days; this is the first time they would let me sit up and have a pen and paper. The head nurse is very bossy. But I've been thinking about it all the time and I shan't get well until you forgive me.
Here is a picture of the way I look, with a thermometer and a scarf around my neck.
Doesn't that arouse your sympathy? (But I do look very cute though, don’t I?) I am having sublingual gland swelling. And I've been studying physiology all the year without ever hearing of sublingual glands. How futile a thing is education!
I can't write any more; I get rather shaky when I sit up too long. Please forgive me for being impertinent and ungrateful. I was badly brought up.
Yours with love,
Lee Min
THE INFIRMARY
4th April
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,
Yesterday evening just towards dark, when I was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, the nurse appeared with a basket of fruits and long white box addressed to me. It was filled with the sweetest pink rosebuds I have ever seen. I didn’t even think that why would Daddy send a boy some flowers but I don’t mind at all! And much nicer still, it contained a card with a very polite message but it was written by your secretary as signed. But the message was from you! Someday, I want to see your handwriting too. I bet it really shows your character. Still, thank you, Daddy, a thousand times. Your flowers make the first real, true present I ever received in my life. If you want to know what a baby I am, while I was peeling the oranges, I cried because I was so happy. It was embarrassing but I thought I should tell you.
Now that I am sure you read my letters, I'll make them much more interesting, so they'll be worth keeping in a safe with red tape around them-only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up. I'd hate to think that you ever read it over.
Thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable Freshman cheerful. Probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don't know what it feels like to be alone. But I do.
Goodbye-I'll promise never to be horrid again, because now I know you're a real person; also I'll promise never to bother you with any more questions.
Are you a strict person?
Yours for ever,
Min
8th hour, Monday
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I hope you aren't the Trustee who sat on the toad? It went off-I was told-with quite a pop, so probably he was a fatter Trustee.
Do you remember the little dugout places with gratings over them by the laundry windows in the Park Jung Soo Home? Every spring when the hoptoad season opened we used to form a collection of toads and keep them in those window holes; and occasionally they would spill over into the laundry, causing a very pleasurable commotion on wash days. We were severely punished for our activities in this direction, but in spite of all discouragement the toads would collect.
And one day-well, I won't bore you with particulars-but somehow, one of the fattest, biggest, JUCIEST toads got into one of those big leather arm chairs in the Trustees' room, and that afternoon at the Trustees' meeting-But I dare say you were there and recall the rest?
Looking back dispassionately after a period of time, I will say that punishment was merited, and-if I remember rightly-adequate.
I don't know why I am in such a reminiscent mood except that spring and the reappearance of toads always awakens the old acquisitive instinct. The only thing that keeps me from starting a collection is the fact that no rule exists against it.
After chapel, Thursday
What do you think is my favourite book? Just now, I mean; I change every three days. There was this one book I read where the author was quite young when she wrote it. We were asked to read it so you can say I was a bit forced to. It’s entitled “Wuthering Heights”. I wonder, she had never been outside of Haworth churchyard. She had never known any men in her life; how COULD she imagine a man like Heathcliffe?
I couldn't do it, and I'm quite young and never outside the Park Jung Soo Asylum-I've had every chance in the world. Sometimes a dreadful fear comes over me that I'm not a genius. Will you be awfully disappointed, Daddy, if I don't turn out to be a great author? In the spring when everything is so beautiful and green and budding, I feel like turning my back on lessons, and running away to play with the weather. There are such lots of adventures out in the fields! It's much more entertaining to live books than to write them.
Ow ! ! ! ! ! !
That was a shriek which brought Hyukjae and Donghae and (for a disgusted moment) the Senior from across the hall. It was caused by a centipede like this: only worse. Just as I had finished the last sentence and was thinking what to say next-plump!-it fell off the ceiling and landed at my side. I tipped two cups off the tea table in trying to get away. Donghae whacked it with the back of my book-which now looks weird because of the stain-and killed the front end, but the rear fifty feet ran under the bureau and escaped.
This dormitory, owing to its age and ivy-covered walls, is full of centipedes. They are dreadful creatures. I'd rather find a tiger under the bed.
Friday, 9.30 p.m.
Such a lot of troubles! I didn't hear the rising bell this morning, then I broke my shoestring while I was hurrying to change and ripped my pants apart! The horror! I was late for breakfast and also for first-hour recitation. I forgot to take any blotting paper and my fountain pen leaked. In trigonometry the Professor and I had a disagreement touching a little matter of logarithms. On looking it up, I find that she was right (I’m sorry). We had mutton stew and pie-plant for lunch-hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum. The post brought me nothing but bills (though I must say that I never do get anything else; my family are not the kind that write). In English class this afternoon we had an unexpected written lesson. This was it:
I asked no other thing,
No other was denied.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty merchant smiled.
Brazil? He twirled a button
Without a glance my way:
But, madam, is there nothing else
That we can show today?
That is a poem. I don't know who wrote it or what it means. It was simply printed out on the blackboard when we arrived and we were ordered to comment upon it. When I read the first verse I thought I had an idea-The Mighty Merchant was a divinity who distributes blessings in return for virtuous deeds-but when I got to the second verse and found him twirling a button, it seemed a blasphemous supposition, and I hastily changed my mind. The rest of the class was in the same predicament; and there we sat for three-quarters of an hour with blank paper and equally blank minds. Getting an education is an awfully wearing process!
But this didn't end the day. There's worse to come.
It rained so we couldn't play golf, but had to go to gymnasium instead. The boy next to me banged my elbow with an Indian club. I got home to find that the box with my new blue nautical pants had come, and the waist was so tight that I couldn't sit down. I seriously am thinking that I have gained weight. Friday is sweeping day, and the maid had mixed all the papers on my desk. We had tombstone for dessert (milk and gelatin flavoured with vanilla). We were kept in chapel twenty minutes later than usual to listen to a speech about men must never forget chivalry. And then-just as I was settling down with a sigh of well-earned relief to The Portrait of a Lady, a boy named Shindong, a dough-faced, deadly, unintermittently boy, who sits next to me in Latin because his name begins with S to ask if Monday's lesson commenced at paragraph 69 or 70, and stayed ONE HOUR. He has just gone.
Did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events? It isn't the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh-I really think that requires SPIRIT.
It's the kind of character that I am going to develop. I am going to pretend that all life is just a game which I must play as skilfully and fairly as I can. If I lose, I am going to shrug my shoulders and laugh-also if I win.
Anyway, I am going to be a sport. You will never hear me complain again, Daddy dear, because Donghae wears silk ties and centipedes drop off the wall.
Yours ever,
Min
Answer soon.
27th May
Daddy-Long-Legs,
DEAR SIR: I am in receipt of a letter from Mr Kim Heechul. He hopes that I am doing well in deportment and studies. Since I probably have no place to go this summer, he will let me come back to the asylum and work for my board until college opens.
I HATE THE PARK JUNGSOO HOME.
I'd rather die than go back.
Yours most truthfully,
Lee Sungmin
30th May
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Did you ever see this campus? (That is merely a rhetorical question. Don't let it annoy you.) It is a heavenly spot in May. All the shrubs are in blossom and the trees are the loveliest young green-even the old pines look fresh and new. The grass is dotted with yellow dandelions and hundreds of boys in preppy clothes. Everybody is joyous and carefree, for vacation's coming, and with that to look forward to, examinations don't count.
Isn't that a happy frame of mind to be in? And Daddy! I'm the happiest of all! Because I'm not in the asylum any more; and I'm not anybody's typewriter or bookkeeper (I should have been, you know, except for you).
I'm sorry now for all my past badnesses.
I'm sorry I was ever impertinent to Mr Kim Heechul.
I'm sorry I ever filled the sugar bowl with salt.
I'm sorry I ever made faces behind the Trustees' backs.
I'm going to be good and sweet and kind to everybody because I'm so happy. And this summer I'm going to write and write and write and begin to be a great author. Isn't that an exalted stand to take? Oh, I'm developing a beautiful character! It droops a bit under cold and frost, but it does grow fast when the sun shines.
That's the way with everybody. I don't agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. The happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindliness. I have no faith in misanthropes. (Fine word! Just learned it.) You are not a misanthrope are you, Daddy?
I started to tell you about the campus. I wish you'd come for a little visit and let me walk you about and say:
'That is the library. This is the gas plant, Daddy dear. The Gothic building on your left is the gymnasium, and the Tudor Romanesque beside it is the new infirmary.'
Oh, I'm fine at showing people about. I've done it all my life at the asylum, and I've been doing it all day here. I have honestly.
And a Man, too!
That's a great experience. I never talked to a man before (except occasional Trustees, and they don't count). Pardon, Daddy, I don't mean to hurt your feelings when I abuse Trustees. I don't consider that you really belong among them. You just tumbled on to the Board by chance. The Trustee, as such, is fat and pompous and benevolent. He pats one on the head and wears a gold watch chain.
That looks like a June bug, but is meant to be a portrait of any
Trustee except you.
However-to resume:
I have been walking and talking and having tea with a man. And with a very superior man-with Mr. Cho Kyuhyun of the House of Donghae; his uncle, in short (in long, perhaps I ought to say; he's as tall as you.) Being in town on business, he decided to run out to the college and call on his nephew. He's Donghae’s father's youngest brother, but he doesn't know his uncle very intimately. It seems he glanced at Donghae when he was a baby, decided he didn't like her his nephew, and has never noticed him since.
Anyway, there he was, sitting in the reception room very proper with his hat and stick and gloves beside him; and Donghae and Hyukjae with seventh-hour recitations that they couldn't cut. So Donghae dashed into my room and begged me to walk Mr. Cho about the campus and then deliver his uncle to him when the seventh hour was over. I said I would, obligingly but unenthusiastically, because I don't care much for Cho family.
But he turned out to be a sweet lamb. He's a real human being-not a Cho at all. We had a beautiful time; I've longed for an uncle ever since. Do you mind pretending you're my uncle? I believe they're superior to grandmothers.
Mr. Cho reminded me a little of you, Daddy, as you were twenty years ago. You see I know you intimately, even if we haven't ever met!
He's tall and thinnish with a dark face all over lines, and the funniest underneath smile that never quite comes through but just wrinkles up the corners of his mouth. And he has a way of making you feel right off as though you'd known him a long time. He's very companionable.
We walked all over the campus from the quadrangle to the athletic grounds; then he said he felt weak and must have some tea. He proposed that we go to College Inn-it's just off the campus by the pine walk. I said we ought to go back for Donghae and Hyukjae, but he said he didn't like to have his newphew drink too much tea; it made them nervous. So we just ran away and had tea and muffins and marmalade and ice-cream and cake at a nice little table out on the balcony. The inn was quite conveniently empty, this being the end of the month and allowances low.
We had the jolliest time! But he had to run for his train the minute he got back and he barely saw Donghae at all. He was furious with me for taking him off; it seems he's an unusually rich and desirable uncle. It relieved my mind to find he was rich, for the tea and things cost sixty cents apiece.
This morning (it's Monday now) three boxes of chocolates came by express for Donghae and Hyukjae and me. What do you think of that? To be getting candy from a man!
In a way, I am starting to feel a little bit important.
I wish you'd come and have tea some day and let me see if I like you.
But wouldn't it be dreadful if I didn't? However, I know I should.
Bien! I make you my compliments.
'Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'
Min
PS. I looked in the glass this morning and found a perfectly new dimple that I'd never seen before. It's very curious. Where do you suppose it came from?
------
A/N part 2: To anyone who would want for me to leave them a spot for the next chap, please feel free to comment your name so I will be able to tag you up... thank you! :] Sorry if I am only able to say it now. I just learned how to tag people up using html codes... /gets shot.
Rating: G
Pairing: KyuMin,
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Summary: Sungmin thought he would be forever stuck in an orphanage until this certain man came and decided to send him to college. Inspired from the classic tale, Daddy Long Legs, Sungmin takes over the life of a young college boy who writes to his "sponsor" to talk about his experiences and the new things he's been encountering.
Part 1
Disclaimer: The story isn't own by me, though I did edit some part of the story. For the future chapters, the story would undergo some major shifting and I hope it would all be for the better :) For now, please enjoy!
Towards the end of the Christmas vacation. Exact date unknown
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon-the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat, draped with a blanket and thought I should use the last light to write to you.
Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things-everything I have, you know-that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money?
I. A silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time.
II. Matthew Arnold's poems.
III. A hot water bottle.
IV. A steamer rug. (My tower is cold.)
V. Five hundred sheets of yellow manuscript paper. (I'm going to commence being an author pretty soon.)
VI. A dictionary of synonyms. (To enlarge the author's vocabulary.)
VII. (I don't much like to confess this last item, but I will.) A silk tie.
And now, Daddy, never say I don't tell all!
It was a very low motive, if you must know it, that prompted the silk tie. Cho Donghae comes into my room to do geometry, and he sits cross-legged on the couch and wears different silk ties every night. But just wait-as soon as he gets back from vacation I shall go in and sit on his couch while I am wearing my very special tie. You see, Daddy, the miserable creature that I am but at least I'm honest; and you knew already, from my asylum record, that I wasn't perfect, didn't you?
To recapitulate (that's the way the English instructor begins every other sentence), I am very much obliged for my seven presents. I'm pretending to myself that they came in a box from my family in California. The watch is from father, the rug from mother, the hot water bottle from grandmother who is always worrying for fear I shall catch cold in this climate-and the yellow paper from my little brother Sungjin. My sister gave me the silk tie, and Auntie the Matthew Arnold poems; Uncle Ryeowook (little Ryeowook is named after him) gave me the dictionary. He wanted to send chocolates, but I insisted on synonyms.
You don't object, do you, that I decided to play the part of a composite family?
And now, shall I tell you about my vacation, or are you only interested in my education as such? I hope you appreciate the delicate shade of meaning in 'as such'. It is the latest addition to my vocabulary.
The boy from Canada is named Henry Lau. I like him, but not so much as Lee Hyukjae; I shall never like any one so much as Hyukjae-except you. I must always like you the best of all, because you're my whole family rolled into one. Henry and I and two Sophomores have walked 'cross country every pleasant day and explored the whole neighbourhood, dressed in winter trousers, knit jackets and caps, and carrying shiny sticks to whack things with. Once we walked into town-four miles-and stopped at a restaurant where the college boys go for dinner. Broiled lobster (35 cents), and for dessert, buckwheat cakes and maple syrup (15 cents). Nourishing and cheap.
It was such a lark! Especially for me, because it was so awfully different from the asylum-I feel like an escaped convict every time I leave the campus. Before I thought, I started to tell the others what an experience I was having. It's awfully hard for me not to tell everything I know. I'm a very confiding soul by nature; if I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst.
We had a molasses candy pull last Friday evening, given by the house matron of Fergussen to the left-behinds in the other halls. There were twenty-two of us altogether, Freshmen and Sophomores and juniors and Seniors all united in amicable accord. The kitchen is huge, with copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall-the littlest casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler.
Four hundred boys live in Fergussen. The chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched out twenty-two other white caps and aprons-I can't imagine where he got so many-and we all turned ourselves into cooks.
It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlour, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. They accepted politely but hesitantly. We left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.
So you see, Daddy, my education progresses! I am not only turning to be a good man but a responsible one too! Who said women can only be the ones allowed in the kitchen?
Don't you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an author?
Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the boys again. My tower is just lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.
Eleven pages-poor Daddy, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a short little thank-you note-but when I get started I seem to have a ready pen.
Goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me-I should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations come in February.
Yours with love,
Min
PS. Maybe it isn't proper to send love? If it isn't, please excuse. But I must love somebody and there's only you and Mr Kim Heechul to choose between, so you see-you'll HAVE to put up with it, Daddy D'Artagnan, because I can't love him.
On the Eve
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
You should see the way this college is studying! We've forgotten we ever had a vacation. Fifty-seven irregular verbs have I introduced to my brain in the past four days-I'm only hoping they'll stay till after examinations.
Some of the girls sell their text-books when they're through with them, but I intend to keep mine. Then after I've graduated I shall have my whole education in a row in the bookcase, and when I need to use any detail, I can turn to it without the slightest hesitation. So much easier and more accurate than trying to keep it in your head.
Cho Donghae dropped in this evening to pay a social call, and stayed a solid hour. He got started on the subject of family, and I COULDN'T make him stop. He wanted to know what my mother's maiden name was-did you ever hear such an impertinent question to ask of a person from a foundling asylum? I didn't have the courage to say I didn't know, so I just miserably plumped on the first name I could think of, and that was Kim. Then he wanted to know whether I belonged to the Kim clan in Massachusettes or in Virginia.
To cut it short, Donghae only came by to tell me his “important” family background. I am not sure myself if I would like having an influential one but when people always know you, won’t that be hard to deal with? How can you be yourself when there’s already an image stamped before you can even prove your worth?
I meant to write you a nice, cheerful, entertaining letter tonight, but I'm too sleepy-and scared. The Freshman's lot is not a happy one.
Yours, about to be examined,
Lee Min
Sunday
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,
I have some awful, awful, awful news to tell you, but I won't begin with it; I'll try to get you in a good humour first.
Lee Sungmin has commenced to be an author. A poem entitled, 'From my Tower', appears in the February Monthly-on the first page, which is a very great honour for a Freshman. My English instructor stopped me on the way out from chapel last night, and said it was a charming piece of work except for the sixth line, which had too many feet. I will send you a copy in case you care to read it.
Let me see if I can't think of something else pleasant- Oh, yes! I'm learning to skate, and can glide about quite respectably all by myself. Also I've learned how to slide down a rope from the roof of the gymnasium, and I can vault a bar three feet and six inches high-I hope shortly to pull up to four feet.
We had a very inspiring sermon this morning preached by the Bishop of Alabama. His text was: 'Judge not that ye be not judged.' It was about the necessity of overlooking mistakes in others, and not discouraging people by harsh judgments. I wish you might have heard it.
This is the sunniest, most blinding winter afternoon, with icicles dripping from the fir trees and all the world bending under a weight of snow-except me, and I'm bending under a weight of sorrow.
Now for the news-courage, Min!-you must tell.
Are you SURELY in a good humour? I failed in mathematics and Latin prose. I am tutoring in them, and will take another examination next month. I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but otherwise I don't care a bit because I've learned such a lot of things not mentioned in the catalogue. I've read seventeen novels and bushels of poetry-really necessary novels like Vanity Fair and Richard Feverel and Alice in Wonderland. Also Emerson's Essays and Lockhart's Life of Scott and the first volume of Gibbon's Roman Empire and half of Benvenuto Cellini's Life-wasn't he entertaining? He used to saunter out and casually kill a man before breakfast.
So you see, Daddy, I'm much more intelligent than if I'd just stuck to Latin. Will you forgive me this once if I promise never to fail again?
Yours in a sackcloth,
Min
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
This is an extra letter in the middle of the month because I'm rather lonely tonight. It's awfully stormy and the weather’s getting to me. All the lights are out on the campus, but I drank black coffee and I can't go to sleep.
I had a supper party this evening consisting of Hyukjae, Donghae and Henry Lau-and sardines and toasted muffins and salad and fudge and coffee. Donghae said he'd had a good time, but Hyukjae stayed to help wash the dishes.
I might, very usefully, put some time on Latin tonight but, there's no doubt about it, I'm a very languid Latin scholar. We've finished Livy and De Senectute and are now engaged with De Amicitia (pronounced Damn Icitia).
Should you mind, just for a little while, pretending you are my grandmother? Hyukjae has one and Donghae and Henry each two, and they were all comparing them tonight. I can't think of anything I'd rather have; it's such a respectable relationship. So, if you really don't object-When I went into town yesterday, I saw a pocket watch to which I am sure you will like. I am going to make you a present of it on your eighty-third birthday.
! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
That's the clock in the chapel tower striking twelve. I believe I am sleepy after all.
Good night, Granny.
I love you dearly.
Min
The Ides of March
Dear D.-L.-L.A.,
I am studying Latin prose composition. I have been studying it. I shall be studying it. I shall be about to have been studying it. My re-examination comes the 7th hour next Tuesday, and I am going to pass or BUST. So you may expect to hear from me next, whole and happy and free from conditions, or in fragments.
I will write a respectable letter when it's over. Tonight I have a pressing engagement with the Ablative Absolute.
Yours-in evident haste
L. S.
26th March
Mr. D.-L.-L. D'artagnan,
SIR: You never answer any questions; you never show the slightest interest in anything I do. You are probably the horridest one of all those horrid Trustees, and the reason you are educating me is, not because you care a bit about me, but from a sense of Duty.
I don't know a single thing about you. I don't even know your name.
It is very uninspiring writing to a Thing. I haven't a doubt but that you throw my letters into the waste-basket without reading them.
Hereafter I shall write only about work.
My re-examinations in Latin and geometry came last week. I passed them both and am now free from conditions.
Yours truly,
Lee Sungmin
2nd April
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I am a BEAST.
Please forget about that dreadful letter I sent you last week-I was feeling terribly lonely and miserable and sore-throaty the night I wrote. I didn't know it, but I was just sickening for tonsillitis and grippe and lots of things mixed. I'm in the infirmary now, and have been here for six days; this is the first time they would let me sit up and have a pen and paper. The head nurse is very bossy. But I've been thinking about it all the time and I shan't get well until you forgive me.
Here is a picture of the way I look, with a thermometer and a scarf around my neck.
Doesn't that arouse your sympathy? (But I do look very cute though, don’t I?) I am having sublingual gland swelling. And I've been studying physiology all the year without ever hearing of sublingual glands. How futile a thing is education!
I can't write any more; I get rather shaky when I sit up too long. Please forgive me for being impertinent and ungrateful. I was badly brought up.
Yours with love,
Lee Min
THE INFIRMARY
4th April
Dearest Daddy-Long-Legs,
Yesterday evening just towards dark, when I was sitting up in bed looking out at the rain and feeling awfully bored with life in a great institution, the nurse appeared with a basket of fruits and long white box addressed to me. It was filled with the sweetest pink rosebuds I have ever seen. I didn’t even think that why would Daddy send a boy some flowers but I don’t mind at all! And much nicer still, it contained a card with a very polite message but it was written by your secretary as signed. But the message was from you! Someday, I want to see your handwriting too. I bet it really shows your character. Still, thank you, Daddy, a thousand times. Your flowers make the first real, true present I ever received in my life. If you want to know what a baby I am, while I was peeling the oranges, I cried because I was so happy. It was embarrassing but I thought I should tell you.
Now that I am sure you read my letters, I'll make them much more interesting, so they'll be worth keeping in a safe with red tape around them-only please take out that dreadful one and burn it up. I'd hate to think that you ever read it over.
Thank you for making a very sick, cross, miserable Freshman cheerful. Probably you have lots of loving family and friends, and you don't know what it feels like to be alone. But I do.
Goodbye-I'll promise never to be horrid again, because now I know you're a real person; also I'll promise never to bother you with any more questions.
Are you a strict person?
Yours for ever,
Min
8th hour, Monday
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
I hope you aren't the Trustee who sat on the toad? It went off-I was told-with quite a pop, so probably he was a fatter Trustee.
Do you remember the little dugout places with gratings over them by the laundry windows in the Park Jung Soo Home? Every spring when the hoptoad season opened we used to form a collection of toads and keep them in those window holes; and occasionally they would spill over into the laundry, causing a very pleasurable commotion on wash days. We were severely punished for our activities in this direction, but in spite of all discouragement the toads would collect.
And one day-well, I won't bore you with particulars-but somehow, one of the fattest, biggest, JUCIEST toads got into one of those big leather arm chairs in the Trustees' room, and that afternoon at the Trustees' meeting-But I dare say you were there and recall the rest?
Looking back dispassionately after a period of time, I will say that punishment was merited, and-if I remember rightly-adequate.
I don't know why I am in such a reminiscent mood except that spring and the reappearance of toads always awakens the old acquisitive instinct. The only thing that keeps me from starting a collection is the fact that no rule exists against it.
After chapel, Thursday
What do you think is my favourite book? Just now, I mean; I change every three days. There was this one book I read where the author was quite young when she wrote it. We were asked to read it so you can say I was a bit forced to. It’s entitled “Wuthering Heights”. I wonder, she had never been outside of Haworth churchyard. She had never known any men in her life; how COULD she imagine a man like Heathcliffe?
I couldn't do it, and I'm quite young and never outside the Park Jung Soo Asylum-I've had every chance in the world. Sometimes a dreadful fear comes over me that I'm not a genius. Will you be awfully disappointed, Daddy, if I don't turn out to be a great author? In the spring when everything is so beautiful and green and budding, I feel like turning my back on lessons, and running away to play with the weather. There are such lots of adventures out in the fields! It's much more entertaining to live books than to write them.
Ow ! ! ! ! ! !
That was a shriek which brought Hyukjae and Donghae and (for a disgusted moment) the Senior from across the hall. It was caused by a centipede like this: only worse. Just as I had finished the last sentence and was thinking what to say next-plump!-it fell off the ceiling and landed at my side. I tipped two cups off the tea table in trying to get away. Donghae whacked it with the back of my book-which now looks weird because of the stain-and killed the front end, but the rear fifty feet ran under the bureau and escaped.
This dormitory, owing to its age and ivy-covered walls, is full of centipedes. They are dreadful creatures. I'd rather find a tiger under the bed.
Friday, 9.30 p.m.
Such a lot of troubles! I didn't hear the rising bell this morning, then I broke my shoestring while I was hurrying to change and ripped my pants apart! The horror! I was late for breakfast and also for first-hour recitation. I forgot to take any blotting paper and my fountain pen leaked. In trigonometry the Professor and I had a disagreement touching a little matter of logarithms. On looking it up, I find that she was right (I’m sorry). We had mutton stew and pie-plant for lunch-hate 'em both; they taste like the asylum. The post brought me nothing but bills (though I must say that I never do get anything else; my family are not the kind that write). In English class this afternoon we had an unexpected written lesson. This was it:
I asked no other thing,
No other was denied.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty merchant smiled.
Brazil? He twirled a button
Without a glance my way:
But, madam, is there nothing else
That we can show today?
That is a poem. I don't know who wrote it or what it means. It was simply printed out on the blackboard when we arrived and we were ordered to comment upon it. When I read the first verse I thought I had an idea-The Mighty Merchant was a divinity who distributes blessings in return for virtuous deeds-but when I got to the second verse and found him twirling a button, it seemed a blasphemous supposition, and I hastily changed my mind. The rest of the class was in the same predicament; and there we sat for three-quarters of an hour with blank paper and equally blank minds. Getting an education is an awfully wearing process!
But this didn't end the day. There's worse to come.
It rained so we couldn't play golf, but had to go to gymnasium instead. The boy next to me banged my elbow with an Indian club. I got home to find that the box with my new blue nautical pants had come, and the waist was so tight that I couldn't sit down. I seriously am thinking that I have gained weight. Friday is sweeping day, and the maid had mixed all the papers on my desk. We had tombstone for dessert (milk and gelatin flavoured with vanilla). We were kept in chapel twenty minutes later than usual to listen to a speech about men must never forget chivalry. And then-just as I was settling down with a sigh of well-earned relief to The Portrait of a Lady, a boy named Shindong, a dough-faced, deadly, unintermittently boy, who sits next to me in Latin because his name begins with S to ask if Monday's lesson commenced at paragraph 69 or 70, and stayed ONE HOUR. He has just gone.
Did you ever hear of such a discouraging series of events? It isn't the big troubles in life that require character. Anybody can rise to a crisis and face a crushing tragedy with courage, but to meet the petty hazards of the day with a laugh-I really think that requires SPIRIT.
It's the kind of character that I am going to develop. I am going to pretend that all life is just a game which I must play as skilfully and fairly as I can. If I lose, I am going to shrug my shoulders and laugh-also if I win.
Anyway, I am going to be a sport. You will never hear me complain again, Daddy dear, because Donghae wears silk ties and centipedes drop off the wall.
Yours ever,
Min
Answer soon.
27th May
Daddy-Long-Legs,
DEAR SIR: I am in receipt of a letter from Mr Kim Heechul. He hopes that I am doing well in deportment and studies. Since I probably have no place to go this summer, he will let me come back to the asylum and work for my board until college opens.
I HATE THE PARK JUNGSOO HOME.
I'd rather die than go back.
Yours most truthfully,
Lee Sungmin
30th May
Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,
Did you ever see this campus? (That is merely a rhetorical question. Don't let it annoy you.) It is a heavenly spot in May. All the shrubs are in blossom and the trees are the loveliest young green-even the old pines look fresh and new. The grass is dotted with yellow dandelions and hundreds of boys in preppy clothes. Everybody is joyous and carefree, for vacation's coming, and with that to look forward to, examinations don't count.
Isn't that a happy frame of mind to be in? And Daddy! I'm the happiest of all! Because I'm not in the asylum any more; and I'm not anybody's typewriter or bookkeeper (I should have been, you know, except for you).
I'm sorry now for all my past badnesses.
I'm sorry I was ever impertinent to Mr Kim Heechul.
I'm sorry I ever filled the sugar bowl with salt.
I'm sorry I ever made faces behind the Trustees' backs.
I'm going to be good and sweet and kind to everybody because I'm so happy. And this summer I'm going to write and write and write and begin to be a great author. Isn't that an exalted stand to take? Oh, I'm developing a beautiful character! It droops a bit under cold and frost, but it does grow fast when the sun shines.
That's the way with everybody. I don't agree with the theory that adversity and sorrow and disappointment develop moral strength. The happy people are the ones who are bubbling over with kindliness. I have no faith in misanthropes. (Fine word! Just learned it.) You are not a misanthrope are you, Daddy?
I started to tell you about the campus. I wish you'd come for a little visit and let me walk you about and say:
'That is the library. This is the gas plant, Daddy dear. The Gothic building on your left is the gymnasium, and the Tudor Romanesque beside it is the new infirmary.'
Oh, I'm fine at showing people about. I've done it all my life at the asylum, and I've been doing it all day here. I have honestly.
And a Man, too!
That's a great experience. I never talked to a man before (except occasional Trustees, and they don't count). Pardon, Daddy, I don't mean to hurt your feelings when I abuse Trustees. I don't consider that you really belong among them. You just tumbled on to the Board by chance. The Trustee, as such, is fat and pompous and benevolent. He pats one on the head and wears a gold watch chain.
That looks like a June bug, but is meant to be a portrait of any
Trustee except you.
However-to resume:
I have been walking and talking and having tea with a man. And with a very superior man-with Mr. Cho Kyuhyun of the House of Donghae; his uncle, in short (in long, perhaps I ought to say; he's as tall as you.) Being in town on business, he decided to run out to the college and call on his nephew. He's Donghae’s father's youngest brother, but he doesn't know his uncle very intimately. It seems he glanced at Donghae when he was a baby, decided he didn't like her his nephew, and has never noticed him since.
Anyway, there he was, sitting in the reception room very proper with his hat and stick and gloves beside him; and Donghae and Hyukjae with seventh-hour recitations that they couldn't cut. So Donghae dashed into my room and begged me to walk Mr. Cho about the campus and then deliver his uncle to him when the seventh hour was over. I said I would, obligingly but unenthusiastically, because I don't care much for Cho family.
But he turned out to be a sweet lamb. He's a real human being-not a Cho at all. We had a beautiful time; I've longed for an uncle ever since. Do you mind pretending you're my uncle? I believe they're superior to grandmothers.
Mr. Cho reminded me a little of you, Daddy, as you were twenty years ago. You see I know you intimately, even if we haven't ever met!
He's tall and thinnish with a dark face all over lines, and the funniest underneath smile that never quite comes through but just wrinkles up the corners of his mouth. And he has a way of making you feel right off as though you'd known him a long time. He's very companionable.
We walked all over the campus from the quadrangle to the athletic grounds; then he said he felt weak and must have some tea. He proposed that we go to College Inn-it's just off the campus by the pine walk. I said we ought to go back for Donghae and Hyukjae, but he said he didn't like to have his newphew drink too much tea; it made them nervous. So we just ran away and had tea and muffins and marmalade and ice-cream and cake at a nice little table out on the balcony. The inn was quite conveniently empty, this being the end of the month and allowances low.
We had the jolliest time! But he had to run for his train the minute he got back and he barely saw Donghae at all. He was furious with me for taking him off; it seems he's an unusually rich and desirable uncle. It relieved my mind to find he was rich, for the tea and things cost sixty cents apiece.
This morning (it's Monday now) three boxes of chocolates came by express for Donghae and Hyukjae and me. What do you think of that? To be getting candy from a man!
In a way, I am starting to feel a little bit important.
I wish you'd come and have tea some day and let me see if I like you.
But wouldn't it be dreadful if I didn't? However, I know I should.
Bien! I make you my compliments.
'Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'
Min
PS. I looked in the glass this morning and found a perfectly new dimple that I'd never seen before. It's very curious. Where do you suppose it came from?
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A/N part 2: To anyone who would want for me to leave them a spot for the next chap, please feel free to comment your name so I will be able to tag you up... thank you! :] Sorry if I am only able to say it now. I just learned how to tag people up using html codes... /gets shot.