The Tar Baby and the Tomahawk: Race and Ethnic Images in American Children's Literature, 1880-1939

My Dear Frost:

I am almost as bad as you are about writing letters. The fact is, I have been waiting with impatience that package of sketches which, [?] a month ago you were to send to-morrow. My dear Mr. Man, your head is red and so is mine, and, on this account there is much to be forgiven. Need I tell you that I am delighted with the illustrations? The only fault I find with them—and it is an irremediable—(is that a sure-enough word? It looks might funny.)—one, is that they are too few by a couple of dozen. They are simply perfect. The humor of the lion looking in the spring and shining his tushes stays with me; and [?]de big black gal is a gem. Bless God! She's de gal her own se'f, done come out'n de cotton-patch en got dar on de paper right 'fo' yo' eyes.— I send with this a picture of my own, which I have named "Rough on Rats."— In my Editorial about you I made one curious omission—I said nothing about your Western characters in
Miss French's stories. A mighty slick gal, that Miss French.— Of course, I should like to spend a week or two with you, and see the wife and those notorious boys, and Frank Stockton. But how can I? I'm the slave of the Editorial grind. I like Frank Stockton. There's no nonsense about his writings— that is to say, there is nonsense about and in his writings, but no nonsense about his style, which reads like the talk of a clever, friendly man talking before a cozy fire, and while waiting for the taters to be pulled out of the ashes and the simmin beer to be brought in.— Now, then, when are you going to send these preliminary sketches? Or did you change your mind? My regards to [?] Mrs. Frost, and the boys, and a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you all!

Faithfully yours:
Joel Chandler Harris