Abbot Letters to Hannah Rantoul

Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch to Hannah Rantoul, 21 October 1848

[From Elizabeth in Tarboro, North Carolina, to Hannah in Beverly. She sympathizes with Hannah over the death of Hannah's mother Joanna (Lovett) Rantoul a month earlier, on 23 Sep 1848; notes that her son Nathaniel had been sick with "White fever" and that they had feared he would die; and describes her new baby Georgiana, born 21 May 1848.

Addressed to "Miss Hannah L Rantoul, Beverly, Mass." A separate notation by Hannah says "Mrs. Joseph H. Bowditch, Tarborough, N. C., Oct 21st, 1848." Postmarked "TARBOH N. C. Oct 21." A wax seal is still attached, resulting in a missing word or two. BHS ID# 948.001.1288.]

Tarborough, October 21st 1848

My dear sister,

I can now for the first time sit down to write you, but before I have been unable, for whenever I thought of you my sympathy for you was so great that it seemed impossible for me to write you upon so painful a subject. My dear H. you know how much I feel for you in the loss of a parent,¹ such parents as you and myself were blessed with! And I know exactly how full of trouble you must be, and would I could for one evening or afternoon sit down and talk with you, we should both be relieved to pour out our feelings to each other.

How little did we think last summer that we should both feel so desolate ere another year had passed by. But my dear H. they are happier, and both have gone to meet their other children in Heaven. Why should we wish them back? It is only selfishness on our part, they have greater bliss above. Your Mother was spared to you much longer than I expected. I heard from you frequently, and imagined your watching and anxiety, but it was hard until all was over to write you, and it is hard now. Tears will fall rapidly as I write. My dear father² & Georgiana³ come before my mind too vividly. Sleeping or waking it is the same. Often I dream of them, of conversations that I have had, and when I awake and find all a dream, and the painful reality is forced upon me, it seems that the wound is deeper than ever, and it is then it seems to me that I most realize their loss.

Within a few weeks too, I have been much distressed. Nat⁴ had what is called here the "White fever," and for some days we despaired of his life. What anxiety and terrible suspense was that! I could not look upon any of his clothes, his books, his little chair, without feeling as if I would willingly go too if he must be taken. He is a very gentle child my dear sister (such as one as you would love) & he would lie there, and if I asked him where he felt sick, he would simply answer "I don't know Ma." He is now well, & I have returned many thanks to his maker for his recovery. I think he is better than ever in his life, beginning to look rosy and fat and as full of life as a young kitten.

My other dear little "Sis,"⁵ as he calls her, is remarkably healthy. She is a much larger child than Nat, and though she has blue eyes, light hair, & a fair skin like him, bears not the slightest resemblance. She is ever laughing, and always awake, excepting at night.

My dear H. remember me kindly to your father.⁶ Thank him for the papers he frequently sends me. They are very acceptable, and I like the reading of them much. O! my dear sister, what a blessing you are to your father. How sad and lonely would his home be without you! And what a satisfaction to him, to have one so gentle watching and attending to all his little wants in his old age. You must feel much care now that you have all to attend to. You feel much better for this employment and care, you can bear your loss much better. I know you love to think of your Mother, and there are not many times that she is out of your thoughts, but you would mourn too much if you had nothing to do but to mourn & grieve for her.

My dear H. I wish you would go down and see Ma⁷ right often. She loves you dearly, and she my dear sister feels much for you. She wrote me very feelingly of your loss, and says "I know what the poor girl must feel!" Begin my dear sister and write me often. I will also you. Tell me all about your Mother's last sickness, and if she died suddenly at last to you. Write me of everything that interests you. Write me also of my mother. Be a [____] sister of mine, and look upon my mother as you[____] talk with her freely upon her losses. She would feel relieved I know. I have felt much anxiety about her, and do still, for she has been sorely tried, but she says she is sustained wonderfully from above. She must feel lonely indeed, though she says she endeavors to think all is for the best, and be as cheerful as she can. I do want to see her so much that I dare not think of it at all.

And now my dear girl, I have not expressed to you half I feel. My pen cannot talk as I would were I with you. But I do wish you would write me very often, and I will you. Let us become regular correspondents again, after all the changes that have taken place. Let us talk freely of our losses, and let us be sisters indeed to each other. Write me soon. Accept of much sympathy and regard from Jo. Henry,⁸ & believe me your true sister E.

 

Copyright Charles Towne. Usage of this work is licensed under Creative Commons BY-NC 4.0
Compiler: Charles Towne

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