The provenance (orgin) of these seven letters is not altogether certain. Says Jackson:
I do not feel wholly sure that my Kitty wrote these letters herself. They always came inside the letters written to me by my mama, or other friends, and I never caught Kitty writing at any time when I was at home; but the printing was pretty bad, and they were signed by Kitty’s name; and my mama always looked very mysterious when I asked about them, as if there were some very great secret about it all; so that until I grew to be a big girl, I never doubted but that Kitty printed them all alone by herself, after dark.
They were written when I was a very little girl, and was away from home with my father on a journey. We made this journey in our own carriage, and it was one of the pleasantest things that ever happened to me. My clothes and my father’s were packed in a little leather valise which was hung by straps…
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From Letter 1
My Dear Helen:
That is what your mother calls you, I know, for I jumped up on writing-table just now, and looked, while she was out of the room; and I am sure I have as much right to call you so as she has, for if you were my own little kitty, and looked just like me, I could not love you any more than I do. How many good naps I have had in your lap! and how many nice bits of meat you have saved for me out of your own dinner! Oh, I’ll never let a rat, or a mouse, touch any thing of yours so long as I live.
I felt very unhappy after you drove off yesterday, and did not know what to do with myself. I went into the barn, and thought I would take a nap on the hay, for I do think going to sleep is one of the very best things for people who are unhappy; but it seemed so lonely without old Charlie stamping in his stall that I could not bear it, so I went into the garden, and lay down under the damask rose- bush, and caught flies. There is a kind of fly round that bush which I like better than any other I ever ate…
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