It’s difficult to describe how incredibly popular The Pansy magazine was. As the editor, Isabella received hundreds of letters every month from parents and children. Sometimes they wrote in response to a question Isabella posed in an article or story. Sometimes children wrote stories of their own and sent them to Isabella for her feedback.
Other times children confided their problems to Isabella and asked for her advice; others simply wrote to tell Isabella about their day.
In 1891 a little girl named Ida White wrote a letter about her family and home life that Isabella found so charming, she published the entire letter in The Pansy magazine for all her readers to see. Here is Ida’s letter.
Dear Pansy:
My hair has grown out in curls about three inches long all about my face and neck.
We have a little baby at our house, which we call Blue-eyed Pansy. His name is George Washington.
Both of my little brothers are tongue-tied, and have two toes on the same foot, grown together. They are as much alike as twins could be, only one is nine years, and the other three months old. Mamma took him to church last Sunday and he squealed; she took him out in the hall, and he squealed there; then she took him out in the yard, and gave him a roll on the grass. He cannot talk, but he has heard the word “look” so much, that he tries to say it, or seems to.
We have a little dog named “Tip.” He is about the size (and my sister thinks he is almost as sweet) as a pound of yellow sugar. We have four little kittens; their names are Adams, Lincoln, Jefferson, and Grant. We live on a farm in a two-story house, a mile and a half west of the village. We have two hundred little chickens.
A little oriole built its nest on a tree in our front yard; then a cuckoo stole the nest, and they brought up their families together. We have pansies blooming on the north side of the house. We have flowers from March till frost; and plenty of beautiful little hummingbirds, and innumerable bumble-bees.
I have an uncle living in California that mamma and I never saw; when he comes to see us, I will tell you about California. I would like to go to New York, and to Niagara Falls, and to see the ocean.
I think it is real good and kind of you to read other people’s children’s scratching, and give them a chance to write; and I love you for it. I hope your Ray will live till he is a man, for I think he will be a good and benevolent gentleman. You may publish my letter if you want to.
Good-by, Ida White.
In the last paragraph of her letter, Ida mentioned Isabella’s son “Ray.” At the time, Raymond Alden was three years old and the apple of Isabella’s eye. She often shared little stories in the magazine about his antics and mentioned him when she replied to children’s letters (“No, we haven’t any dog; but our Ray, whenever we ask him what he would like to have for a birthday present, says, “A big, black dog.”).
By all accounts, Ida’s wish came true, for Raymond Alden grew up to be a well-loved, well-respected and extremely “benevolent gentleman.”
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