TO MRS. GATTY.

[Aldershot.] February 23, 1870.

MY DARLING MOTHER,

I was by no means sensible of your iniquities in not acknowledging my poor Neck,[35] for I had entirely forgotten his very existence!  Only I was thinking it was a long time since I heard from you—­and hoping you were not ill.  I am very glad you like the Legend—­I was doubtful, and rather anxious to hear till I forgot all about it.  The “Necks” are Scandinavian in locality, and that desire for immortal life which is their distinguishing characteristic is very touching.  There is one lovely little (real) Legend in Keightley.  The bairns of a Pastor play with a Neck one day, and falling into disputes they taunt him that he will never be saved—­on which he flings away his harp and weeps bitterly.  When the boys tell their father he reproves them for their want of charity, and sends them back to unsay what they had said.  So they run back and say, “Dear Neck, do not grieve so; for our father says that your Redeemer liveth also,” on which the Neck was filled with joy, and sat on a wave and played till the sun went down.  He appeared like a boy with long fair hair and a red cap.  They also appear in the form of a little old man wringing out his beard into the water.  I ventured to give my Neck both shapes according to his age.  All the rest is de moi-meme....

[Footnote 35:  The Neck in “Old-fashioned Fairy Tales.”]

[Aldershot.] March 22, 1870.

MY DARLING MOTHER,

I am so very much pleased that you think better of Benjy[36] now.  As I have plenty of time, I mean to go through it, and soften Benjy down a bit.  He is an awful boy, and I think I can make him less repulsive.  The fact is the story was written in fragments, and I was anxious to show that it was not a little boyish roughness that I meant to make a fuss and “point a moral” about—­nor did I want to go into fine-drawn questions about the cruelties of sport, and when I came to join the bits into a whole and copy out, I found I had overproved my point and made Benjy a fearful brute.  But there are some hideously cruel boys, and I do think a certain devilish type of cruelty is generally combined with a certain lowness and meanness of general style—­even in born gentlemen—­and though quite curable, I would like to hear what the boys think of it, if it would not bore them to read it.  But I certainly shall soften Benjy down—­and will attend to all your hints—­and put in the “Mare’s Nest” (many thanks!).  Tell D. I do not know how I could alter about Rough—­unless I take out his death altogether—­but beg her to observe that he was not the least neglected as to food, etc.; what he died of was joy after his anxiety....

[Footnote 36:  Included in “Lob Lie-by-the-Fire, and other Tales,” vol. vii.]