Abbot Letters to Hannah Rantoul

Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch to Hannah Rantoul, 6 December 1845

[From Elizabeth in Tarboro, North Carolina, to Hannah in Beverly. Elizabeth was five 1/2 months pregnant with her first child Nathaniel (born 18 March 1846). She mentions that she and her husband will soon be moving into their own house; describes the perhaps absent-minded Mr. Brooks of the Male Academy at Tarboro; and talks about a new black cook.

Addressed to "Miss Hannah L Rantoul, Beverly, Mass." A separate notation by Hannah says "Mrs. Joseph H. Bowditch, Tarborough, N. C., Dec. 6th, 1845." Postmarked "TARBOH N. C. Dec 7." A wax seal is still attached, resulting in a missing word or two. BHS ID# 948.001.1280.]

Tarborough, Dec 6th, 1845

My dear H,

I wrote E.¹ last week and also Mother,² and now I am ready to answer your good one. Thanksgiving with you has passed, a rainy disagreeable day without, but that little troubles one who has all his friends about him within. I would have accepted your invite to dine, had it been convenient. I did not even receive my pudding from you!! Strange you should have neglected a dear friend because she was far off.

You were on your way to hear the Poems, as you dropped my letter in the office. G'a³ writes me that it was good, from the sedate down to the sentimental. I expected that about this time J. F.⁴ would have felt very sentimental and romantic. G'a also thought his voice was an indication of much fatigue at the last, and shew plainly that he was very feeble. Think you he has carried Anna⁵ down to "Moonlight Rock," and told her of his early loves?

I am sorry you have such unfavorable weather for your Charitable Society.⁶ You have met only twice. There will not be much need of a secretary. Has any one yet ventured to accept it. Indeed my dear H. you pay me a great compliment in your last. Jo. Henry⁷ is pleased to think you still keep up the old fashion of societies, but whether or not he would be willing to have me a member, and attend regularly as I used to do, can't say.

Is Nancy Burroughs⁸ still living, and have you yet made her a call?

I thought last week that we were going to have a real snow storm. It looked much like it for a day or two, but when it did come it was rain. It is now quite cool. We have seen some ice, but with you ere this it is right cold and [__?__]. The climate is much different so far.

Today is Jo. Henry's birth day, twenty seven years old. What an old couple we are. We don't feel so at all though. When I come to be settled in my house and become a matron, then perhaps, I shall feel differently.

I shall soon be there now. Mr. Williams will finish moving on Monday, and the workmen go in to repair the house immediately. I want to have my Christmas dinner there if possible. You must think of me on that day, for I shall probably not write you again till after that time. Will you not want to peep in and see me presiding at my own table with so large a family about me. It will not be 15 but 2, and perhaps three, for if I get there shall certainly ask Mr. Chapman,⁹ a Yankee friend, to join us. He is a cunning little old bachelor, not much larger than Mr. Turner of Balt. By the way, do you recollect the night we went on board the Navy vessel at our wharf? I saw his wife. She is just as tall as he is, and the way they trotted off, being caught in a shower, was very amusing.

I must put this away, and finish tomorrow. Good night dear H.

Sunday 7th. Tomorrow has come, and with it a cold clear day. Cold for the "balmy south" I mean, but warm for Yankee land.

The past week we have had several peeps at Jane's¹⁰ Crab Apples. They always taste mouish [?]. I don't know but she meant for me to keep them to begin housekeeping with. There will be none by that time. I am famous for good things, and can't like many keep such to look at.

Is Mr. Preston¹¹ at housekeeping now, and is his wife¹² well again? I was glad to hear of Sarah Jane's¹³ good fortune. I hope she may now be more successful. Is Elizabeth's¹⁴ health restored? I hear that Mary Page¹⁵ has been quite sick.

Do you belong to the Watcher Society. I have forgotten. You spoke in your last of going up to show Mary Howe¹⁶ how to make a warm water cricket. Please learn me too. If you can come on, and do it better, you will be most welcome. If that is impossible, describe to me how it is done.

You do not forget the description of the Tarborough examination at the Male Academy, that I gave you last spring I suppose. Mr. Brooks¹⁷ the teacher, his dress, and light colored gloves, so smart and important. Well he has taken it into his cranium to come here to board, and yesterday was all day fitting up his old bachelors room comfortably. This morn'g I was much amused. When he came in to breakfast he still had on gloves, not light kid, but colored woolen ones. I could not help watching him, as he sat opposite me, to see if he really eat his breakfast in them. His coffee was handed him. He took it, his bread, and still his gloves came not off. I was ready to laugh, when he slyly puts his hands into his lap, and pulls them off. Whether it was absence of mind, or whether his little fingers were cold, I know not. He is very much in love, and not long since gave a party that he might dance with his "angel." Poor man! She will not encourage his attentions, and I imagine from all his fixings and little things, he has resolved to make himself comfortable and [____] without a wife. I had no business to laugh at the man, for [____] is not by any means a poor looking ignoramus, but a large, stout, good looking person, with much politeness, and a good teacher. But I was so amused the first time I saw him rubbing the chalk off of the black board with light kids on, and then making such a fuss blowing it off, that he always makes me laugh, let me see him where I will. I must make much of his presence for in a week or two we shall have left Mrs. Pender¹⁸ for our own home.

I have got my dear H. a great, big, black looking cook, as ever you saw, a real good upright woman, so it is said. When she whips me, which she might do, were she disposed, with one little finger, I shall feel sheepish enough, will I not? She will think she has a strange mistress, and one that has curious ways, for every thing will be done in Yankee style, and it will be something of a change for her I reckon. She is a willing good woman, and has been living the last year with my ideal of a woman, Mrs. Owen,¹⁹ from whom I have the highest recommendations concerning her. I wish you could know her. She is a delightful companion. I love to go there, and every pleasant day do so.

My dear H., when your letter was handed me I thought I had a new correspondent, for I immediately recognized your father's²⁰ writing, and did not know (he being a justice of the peace) but that he had summoned me to court for some kind of a witness, perhaps to gain some information concerning that York family I took so much interest in some time since. But I soon discovered my mistake upon opening it, and concluded that he directed it, as you were putting on your bonnet & cloak to accompany him to hear that poem. Was I not right?

Well my dear H., in conclusion let me modestly speak of myself. My health at this time will be of interest to you. I never was so well in my life. And would you believe me I would tell you, never more fleshy. But you all think because I came to B'y looking so puny that I had deceived you in the summer, a natural conclusion, but it was so.

Thank your father for his papers he so kindly sends me. Give much love to all your family, not forgetting Jane. I shall write Ga a short note, and bid you good bye for a week or two. Write me in due season, and believe me

Ever your friend, E.

 

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

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