Edward W. Axson to Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre

I have long had it in mind to write to you, in fact ever since your return from Europe when we learned of your illness in Rome. But somehow I seem to have gotten out of the way of writing letters. It is a bad habit to get into, for we have to rely on our relatives and friends to keep us in touch with things, and unfortunately neither friends nor relatives seems to feel under obligation to write letters unless they receive an occasional reply. I resolved that I would celebrate your birthday by writing the long deferred letter. So you may thank your birthday that I have finally taken the necessary brace. And speaking of birthdays how many of them have you been having recently—let's see, this one makes it “Sweet Sixteen” doesnt it, I am not certain for I have really lost count. Whatever it is though Florence and I and the Boy all send you a great deal of love and wish you many happy returns of the day.
I suppose the plan is still that you shall enter college this fall and Margaret will have the pleasure of taking you to Baltimore and starting you in. I hope she and her Sophomore friends wont rub it in too hard on the little scared freshman. How did Margaret like her first year at college? If one can judge by the size of their “Fresh Fire” last winter hers must be an A1 class, and you will have trouble downing them.
I suppose you are having a delightfully cool summer in Canada. We have had some hot weather here but most of the summer has been quite comfortable—and the nights are invariably cool. Our house is up on a hill overlooking the river, so we get any breeze that is stirring, and with its wide verandah and hallway it is just the kind of house for summer. Master Edward Stockton is walking now and he makes voyages of discovery all about it. The front porch has a railing and a baby gate so it is just the place for him (except that everything he can make go through or over the railing lands in the grass). But he has learned how to open the screen doors now and the other day he slipped away and went out to the end of the back porch where there is no railing at all—and there his mother found him laughing and calling to her in triumph. He started up stairs one day and was half way up before he was discovered. He can scamper about quite fast now, though his progress is often interrupted by a forward plunge or a backward sit down. He hops up though and goes ahead—never thinking of stopping to cry. He had a number of imitations which he would give with great glee—like the “dog”, the “kitty” and the “rooster”, but since he became a man and learned to navigate for himself he has rather put away such childish occupations. He still joins in with the twelve oclock whistler though—a trick he picked up himself. He doesnt talk any yet but seems to understand nearly everything you say to him. He is not always angelic though and occasionally has to be told he must not do certain things—e.
G. break up cracker crumbs and scatter them broadcast over the floors. He has two ways of receiving a reproof like that. One is to scowl at you like a thunder cloud—as much as to say “I'm going to do that thing just as much as I want to.” The other is to put up the most pitiful mouth you ever saw, pull you within reach and lay his head on your shoulder. It is hard to say which plan is more destructive of discipline. I wish you could see him chasing his two long suffering kittens about trying to pick them up by the tail or the head, or to gouge out an eye, or some such pleasantry. All of which I hope will prove to your entire satisfaction that he is by all odds the finest boy in Dixie. Q.E.D.
Well I must close. I hope you will not treat me as badly as I have you. I should like to have a long letter telling me all the family news, what you did and saw on your trip, what you are doing with yourselves this summer &c &c. You would have interesting material for two or three epistles. Floris and the baby both join me in a heart full of love for you and all the dear ones. How I wish you could all all come to Georgia and make us a visit. We have a big house here and although it is only partly furnished I guess we could make out somehow—when Cousin Ed and Mr Randolph and their families came up we stowed away seven—besides the negro driver. Once more wishing you many happy returns and with lots of love for all—