Library Collections: Document: Full Text

I fear my writing is not very nice, but I hope you can read it without much trouble.

What do you hear about Tommy? I wish Miss Bull would write and tell me about him. I enclose the check which you sent for me to endorse.

I hope you are having a pleasant vacation. Little sister sends you a kiss and we all send our love. From your own loving little girl, with many kisses and hugs.

HELEN A. KELLER.

Such thoughts as are expressed in this letter can only grow in the soil of pure and large sensibilities.

When I was about to send my manuscript to the printer, I received as a birthday present the following story, with the accompanying brief note. The story gives tangible proof of Helen's extraordinary imagination, as well as of the originality of her thoughts and ideas, the vividness of her descriptions, the elegance of her style and the tenderness of her feelings.

TUSCUMBIA, ALA., Nov. 4, 1891.

MY DEAR MR. ANAGNOS: -- I shall send you to-day a little story which I wrote for your birthday gift. I shall think of you often on the seventh, and wish that I could give you a birthday kiss. Mother and father and teacher send love and best wishes for many happy returns of the day.

Lovingly, your own HELEN.

NOTE.

Since this report was printed I have received evidence through the Goodson Gazelle of Staunton, Va., that the story by Helen Keller, entitled "King Frost," is an adaptation, if not a reproduction, of "Frost Fairies," which occurs in a little volume, "Birdie and his Fairy Friends," by Margaret T. Canby, published in 1873. I have made careful inquiry of her parents, her teacher and those who are accustomed to converse with her, and have ascertained, that Mrs. Sophia C. Hopkins had the volume in her possession in 1888, when Helen and her teacher were visiting her at her home in Brewster, Mass. In the month of August of that year the state of Miss Sullivan's health was such as to render it necessary for her to be away from her pupil for awhile in search of rest. During the time of this separation, Helen was left in charge of Mrs. Hopkins, who often entertained her by reading to her, and, though Mrs. Hopkins does not recollect this particular story, I presume it was included among the selections. No one can regret the mistake more than I.

M. ANAGNOS.

THE FROST KING.

King Frost lives in a beautiful palace, far to the north, in the land of perpetual snow. The palace, which is magnificent beyond description, was built centuries ago, in the reign of King Glacier. At a little distance from the palace we might easily mistake it for a mountain whose peaks were mounting heavenward to receive the last kiss of the departing day. But on nearer approach we should discover our error. What we had supposed to be peaks were in reality a thousand glittering spires. Nothing could be more beautiful than the architecture of this ice-palace. The walls are curiously constructed of massive blocks of ice which terminate in cliff-like towers. The entrance to the palace is at the end of an arched recess, and it is guarded night and day by twelve soldierly looking white bears.

But, children, you must make King Frost a visit the very first opportunity you have, and see for yourselves this wonderful palace. The old king will welcome you kindly, for he loves children, and it is his chief delight to give them pleasure.

You must know that King Frost, like all other kings, has great treasures of gold and precious stones; but as he is a generous old monarch he endeavors to make right use of his riches. So wherever he goes he does many wonderful works: he builds bridges over every stream, as transparent as glass, but often as strong as iron; he shakes the forest trees until the ripe nuts fall into the laps of laughing children; he puts the flowers to sleep with one touch of his hand; then, lest we should mourn for their bright faces, he paints the leaves with gold and crimson and emerald, and when his task is done the trees are beautiful enough to comfort us for the flight of summer. I will tell you how King Frost happened to think of painting the leaves, for it is a strange story.

One day, while King Frost was surveying his vast wealth and thinking what good he could do with it, he suddenly bethought him of his jolly old neighbor, Santa Claus. "I will send my treasures to Santa Claus," said the king to himself; "he is the very man to dispose of them satisfactorily, for he knows where the poor and the unhappy live, and his kind old heart is always full of benevolent plans for their relief." So he called together the merry little fairies of his household, and, showing them the jars and vases containing his treasures, he bade them carry them to the palace of Santa Claus as quickly as they could. The fairies promised obedience, and were off in a twinkling, dragging the heavy jars and vases along after them as well as they could, now and then grumbling a little at having such a hard task, for they were idle fairies, and loved to play better than to work. After a while they came to a great forest, and, being tired and hungry, they thought they would rest a little and look for nuts before continuing their journey. But, thinking their treasure might be stolen from them, they hid the jars among the thick green leaves of the various trees until they were sure that no one could find them. Then they began to wander merrily about, searching for nuts, climbing trees, peeping curiously into the empty bird's nests and playing hide-and-seek from behind the trees. Now these naughty fairies were so busy and so merry over their frolic that they forgot all about their errand and their master's command to go quickly; but soon they found to their dismay why they had been bidden to hasten, for, although they had, as they supposed, hidden the treasures carefully, yet the bright eyes of King Sun had spied out the jars among the trees, and, as he and King Frost could never agree as to what was the best way of benefiting the world, he was very glad of a good opportunity of playing a joke upon his rather sharp rival. King Sun laughed softly to himself when the delicate jars began to melt and break. At length every jar and vase was cracked or broken, and the precious stones they contained were melting too, and running in little streams over the trees and bushes of the forest.