Abbot Letters to Hannah Rantoul

Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch to Hannah Rantoul, 4 August 1849

[From Elizabeth in Tarboro, North Carolina, to Hannah in Beverly. She says that "I dread my visit to Beverly" (due to the changes in her family after the deaths in 1848); describes her children Nathaniel and Georgiana; and talks about the death of Elizabeth (Woodberry) Story's son (Thorndike Marion Story, at age 7 months, 18 days).

Addressed to "Miss Hannah L Rantoul, Beverly, Mass." A separate notation by Hannah says "Mrs. Joseph H. Bowditch, Tarborough, N. C., Aug 5th, 1849." Postmarked "TARBOH N. C. Aug 5." The letter itself is undated, but from the contents, the postmark, and Hannah's notation, it was clearly written from Tarboro on Saturday 4 Aug 1849 (except for the last few lines added on Sunday), and mailed the next day. BHS ID# 948.001.1289.]

My dear sister H. – none of the less so because I have so long been silent, but excuse I have none to offer. It is just because it happened so, & I was a very neglectful, naughty being to let it happen so. But my dear sister, Ma¹ always kept me so well informed as to your welfair that I felt not so much what I was doing, as if there had been no hearing from you at all. But I trust you will forgive me when I assure you that I have thought of you almost daily since we parted, and have felt many times the blessing you would be to me could I daily be with you. I have wanted so much a dear female friend who would feel with me, and console me, since I parted from you.

O! dear H! What we have both felt since then, none can know but those that have been afflicted similarly. I dread my visit to Beverly. It will be I am afraid as much of a trial as I can bear. But I should not say so. I have too many dear friends to speak thus sadly. But I am ever anxious. If two or three weeks elapse, and I don't hear from Ma (I, who was never sad) am low spirited and feel as if I could not put myself about any thing, restless, going from one duty to another, without energy & almost without knowledge of what I am doing.

My two dear little birds,^{2, 3} however, are such blessings. They drive dull care away. I cannot long look dark when they are with their little prattle. Nat, my dear sister, you would love very dearly. He looks I think much like Pa,⁴ is very much like him too, generous, cheerful, and loving, a friend to all, & of all, and I think more affectionate than any little fellow I ever saw. He talks about his Grandma with as much love as if he have always been with her, and is now looking forward very anxiously to the Spring, when he will see them all. You will hardly know him as the little wee boy that was down to your house in his straw carriage. You loved him then, you will more when you see him. He is now old enough to sit and listen to what is said to him, and is very apt to talk too himself. You have seen the miniatures of the children taken by Charles Rand. Little Georgy's does not do her credit, for she could sit still only asleep. She is s lively pretty child, is teething this summer and is very thin, but ere you see her I am in hopes she will be in fine order for an introduction.

It is Fast day today, and although the night is lovely, the moon shining so brightly, I have left my usual seat in the porch and come into the parlor, determined I would end the day as well as it was in my power to do, and thus you will have a letter. But I fear from want of practice it will be very poor.

I received a letter from E. Story⁵ a few days ago and I feel very much for her. It seems as if she has been sorely afflicted like the rest of us. Her losses must have been great disappointments, but from all Ma said about her last child,⁶ should have judged that it would never have lived to grow up, and indeed E. tells me herself that the Dr. never gave her any encouragement about its living. She is much resigned and talks more cheerfully about it than I expected. When Martha⁷ wrote me of its death, I sat down immediately and wrote her a letter. I felt as I do towards you, that I had been neglectful, and I thought how kind and feelingly she wrote me in my affliction, and tho' late I would try and reform. She answered it the next mail appearing delighted that I had remembered her, and begging very hard for another letter soon. How happy I felt that night. Just so my dear H. will your answer to this make me feel. I wonder that we have not made each other so happy oftener. I wonder we should letter week after week pass away without one line, when the reception of a letter is so pleasurable.

Your kind father⁸ has not forgotten me. I received not ten days ago a paper from him, and I began at the beginning and read it all. It seemed like an old friend. Thank him for me. How is his health dear sister. Is he not a deal of consolation and comfort to you. You are a blessing to him that he could not live without.

Good night. It is nine o'clock. My little Georgy will be wanting me to retire, & I must wish you pleasant dreams till tomorrow morn'g when I intend to add yet a few lines to this poorly written letter.

It is Sunday morn'g, a lovely day it bids fair to be. Would I could go to church with you, but we have none with us today. I miss much the quiet Sunday of N. England. Jo Henry⁹ sends much love, and Nat too. He knows you well. Give Ma much love from – say to her all is well. Write soon & remember me also to Jane¹⁰ & family. Yrs truly E.

 

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

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