That's Rarity.
Taylor Swift's newest album, Red, is coming out on the 22nd! EEEEEK! And some of the songs from said album are already released! (DOUBLE EEEEEEK!) So exciting. Sorry.
Okay, There's my news update.... What's next? Oh, right, the rant.
I just finished reading Mark of Athena (Rick Riordan) and GUESS WHAT? Instead of making the series a TRILOGY, like he SAID he was gonna make it, Riordan is writing it as a five book series! I love reading his stories, so that's all very well, but this means I can't find out what happens until 2014!!!! WHAT IS UP WITH THAT! He totally pulled a Christopher Poalini on us right there! THE NERVE!
Okay, rant = checked off... next is... Right, did I brag about this yet?
Another week of science papers, still all As! My Teacher Assistant is so great. I'm so happy, cuz I hate science, but at least I'll get a good grade at the end of the year, if all goes well.
Ooh, speaking of school, I did this history assignment where I got to write historical fiction! I'll post the story at the bottom of my post, don't feel obliged to read it or anything. It's a letter from this gal named Catherine Lambert to her sister Aimee. Catherine lives in Ville-Marie, which is what Montreal was called in the colonial time period.
School talk is finished... Funny story next.
Well, I don't have many funny stories to share right now, but I have some random things I'll share with you: My favorite pair of jeans are ripping in the knees. My friend missed Latin class this morning and still hasn't replied to my inquiries of WHY. (Seriously, WHY? Did you forget, or sleep in?) I just got a really cute camo jacket at Goodwill. I'm suffering from lack of sleep. And my brother has become a DocLockian and is in the deathgrip of watching too many television shows.
Well, I think that's it. Oh, one more thing. New favorite song is Begin Again by Taylor Swift.
~Found is out.
(Below is my letter)
The following letter is a
translated version of the original, sent from Catherine Lambert to her sister,
Aimee Vassal. The former begs forgiveness from her sister, who was opposed from
the start to the idea of Catherine’s voyage to Ville-Marie.
Dearest sister,
I fully understand that you were deeply aggrieved with me when I left France seven years ago. But can we not let the past be past? You must understand—I had no choice but to come here to Ville-Marie. And it really is not as bad as you believe it to be here—the settlers are friendly enough, and Pierre is truly amazing.
But I forget myself—I have not written since I left, and I failed to remember that you are not aware of all that has happened since I left for Ville-Marie in 1653. Dear Aimee, allow me to explain.
The voyage here was, I admit, fully as awful as you warned me it would be. I still shudder as I remember the cold, and the dreadful rocking of the ship. I could hardly sleep the whole voyage, so awful was the motion. I felt ill the entire way—it was windy and salty on the deck, and cramped and foul smelling below. I was glad indeed when we finally caught sight of land. How happy I was to be on firm, unmoving ground again!
When we reached Ville-Marie…and now I must re-open the sores I left you with. They called us “King’s girls,” you know, women sent by the king to marry the settlers and expand the colonies. And Aimee, you know I never would have left, but for Mama and Papa! How could I ask them to support me, as they had no money for my dowry? I couldn’t stay in France, and this seemed to me to be my only option. But as I began: when we arrived at Ville-Marie, we… Well, in fact, it was incredibly mortifying. We women met with several unmarried Frenchmen, and we introduced ourselves, I suppose. After asking many questions, we married the men. Oh, Aimee! When I look back on that day… You remember, when we were children, and your friend Isabelle was complaining to us about her eldest sister, Marguerite, who married for money? Isabelle was incredibly put out with her sister. “Imagine,” she had said, “the worldliness of it!” But dear Aimee, I feel like what I did could not have been much less worldly than Marguerite’s match. How Isabelle would have scorned me!
But I digress. I married a man by the name of Pierre Lambert. Oh, I was—and am—so lucky, to be married to Pierre. I fear it is rather unladylike of me to say so. It might be uncouth to say I love him, but how can I say otherwise? The Lord has blessed me, sister. And how fortunate! When I think of how unhappy I could have been, had I married a man of doubtful character or uncertain principle! But Pierre is as honest and goodhearted as our own Papa!
Well, after we were married, he took me back to his house. The government, who paid for us women, the “King’s girls,” to be sent out here, was so good as to provide me with a dowry of sorts.
I was so lonesome that first night, Aimee. I missed you all terribly, without my family and friends about me, married to a man of whom I knew nothing!
But that was then, dear Aimee, and this is now. And now, though you did not know this, you are the aunt of three little children. Yes! I am the proud mother of Pierre, Aimee, and Jean. I know it is wrong to sing praises of one’s children, but I truly do think that mine are as wonderful a family as ever there was.
Aimee, I am so happy here, despite being without you and my dear parents. It is a difficult life, but love and family makes it so much easier. Please forgive me for disappointing you, and accept my olive branch. I do miss you all terribly! Please write, Aimee! Until you do, I remain as always,
Your loving sister,
Catherine Marie Vassal Lambert
Dearest sister,
I fully understand that you were deeply aggrieved with me when I left France seven years ago. But can we not let the past be past? You must understand—I had no choice but to come here to Ville-Marie. And it really is not as bad as you believe it to be here—the settlers are friendly enough, and Pierre is truly amazing.
But I forget myself—I have not written since I left, and I failed to remember that you are not aware of all that has happened since I left for Ville-Marie in 1653. Dear Aimee, allow me to explain.
The voyage here was, I admit, fully as awful as you warned me it would be. I still shudder as I remember the cold, and the dreadful rocking of the ship. I could hardly sleep the whole voyage, so awful was the motion. I felt ill the entire way—it was windy and salty on the deck, and cramped and foul smelling below. I was glad indeed when we finally caught sight of land. How happy I was to be on firm, unmoving ground again!
When we reached Ville-Marie…and now I must re-open the sores I left you with. They called us “King’s girls,” you know, women sent by the king to marry the settlers and expand the colonies. And Aimee, you know I never would have left, but for Mama and Papa! How could I ask them to support me, as they had no money for my dowry? I couldn’t stay in France, and this seemed to me to be my only option. But as I began: when we arrived at Ville-Marie, we… Well, in fact, it was incredibly mortifying. We women met with several unmarried Frenchmen, and we introduced ourselves, I suppose. After asking many questions, we married the men. Oh, Aimee! When I look back on that day… You remember, when we were children, and your friend Isabelle was complaining to us about her eldest sister, Marguerite, who married for money? Isabelle was incredibly put out with her sister. “Imagine,” she had said, “the worldliness of it!” But dear Aimee, I feel like what I did could not have been much less worldly than Marguerite’s match. How Isabelle would have scorned me!
But I digress. I married a man by the name of Pierre Lambert. Oh, I was—and am—so lucky, to be married to Pierre. I fear it is rather unladylike of me to say so. It might be uncouth to say I love him, but how can I say otherwise? The Lord has blessed me, sister. And how fortunate! When I think of how unhappy I could have been, had I married a man of doubtful character or uncertain principle! But Pierre is as honest and goodhearted as our own Papa!
Well, after we were married, he took me back to his house. The government, who paid for us women, the “King’s girls,” to be sent out here, was so good as to provide me with a dowry of sorts.
I was so lonesome that first night, Aimee. I missed you all terribly, without my family and friends about me, married to a man of whom I knew nothing!
But that was then, dear Aimee, and this is now. And now, though you did not know this, you are the aunt of three little children. Yes! I am the proud mother of Pierre, Aimee, and Jean. I know it is wrong to sing praises of one’s children, but I truly do think that mine are as wonderful a family as ever there was.
Aimee, I am so happy here, despite being without you and my dear parents. It is a difficult life, but love and family makes it so much easier. Please forgive me for disappointing you, and accept my olive branch. I do miss you all terribly! Please write, Aimee! Until you do, I remain as always,
Your loving sister,
Catherine Marie Vassal Lambert
(If you read all of this.... WOW.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you did her hair!
ReplyDeleteRarity...I've been waiting for her! *sorry*
ReplyDeleteBeautiful essay (much better than mine for this assignment which chronicled the graphic cruelty of the Iriquos Indians...hehe) You really have a lot of talent.
MaryCatherine, did you do a Spanish explorer?
DeleteIt was called "A Story of Courage", about the French. I take it you have done this same assignment as well?
Delete