Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch to her son Charles I. Bowditch, 7 March 1883

[From Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch in Micaville, North Carolina, to her son Charles in Urbana, Illinois. She talks about how much she misses him; describes an incident in which their three dogs attacked Henry Caraway; and brings Charles up to date on events at home.]

'83
Wednesday Eve'g March 7

My dear Charlie,

I cannot realize that I am sitting here writing to you. It seems like a dream that you are so far away! You don't know how much I miss you, nor can I sit down one moment without thinking of you constantly. Your old overcoat looks so natural that I keep it where I can see it often. I rather regret that you did not take it with you, for it is so much warmer than the one you have, and it might have done you some good service also.

Well Ga.1 went to town on Monday and brought me a Postal from you dated Chattanooga, also a letter for you from Urbana. So according to your direction I shall send it to you in this envelope.

Uncle John2 got his R. Road book this morn from Micaville, so I know from the date you are safely with Fred.3 Pa4 will go to town tomorrow and then I expect a letter telling me all about your trip, &c. Walter Gudger5 told Ga he took you to Johnson, so you see little by little we hear from you. I was so sorry that Mr. Woody6 disappointed you, for if you had not started, very likely you would have staid with us longer. I cannot get used to your absence. I find myself at night so disappointed and sad not to see you come home with Johnny,7 and on Sunday I am terribly lonesome.

I do not know that I have any news to tell you, save one wedding. Arista Young8 was married to a Holyfield9 that lived on the top of the Blue Ridge. All the Hilliards went.

Mr. Gibbs10 is about to sell or rent his mine to some Northern partners, who were up to look at it last week. John Gibbs11 has likewise lost his youngest child (a son),12 and his father10 & mother13 are now on Caney River.

Isaac is still here as queer as ever, and I think improves in appearance generally. He says Jack is the smartest dog he ever saw. I think he watches the dinner bucket very faithfully, and won't leave it to bury or eat his bread. Since you went away I find myself petting "Jim." Indeed I do think a great deal more of him because you loved him so much. He is full of life & mischief, running everything that he conveniently can.

Henry Caraway14 came slowly down from the woods to the kitchen last week about dinner time, and all three jumped upon him, and would have severely bitten him had Ga1 and myself not stormed so furiously at them. I never knew them up to such a trick before. Jack jumped at his hand, and Jim his foot, and Liou looked as if he was going to eat him up badly. I was frightened and so was he. I expected to see Pa whip them all but he did nothing. They all ought to have had a good whipping.

I hope you found Fred3 well. I expect he received my letter ere you got there, as I mailed it the morning after you left. Give much love to him and say that the only thing that reconciles me to your absence is that he has you with him.

I will send you a Bakersville paper soon. I sent Fred one a day or two since, but Pa did it up. I am afraid to take another sheet as I want to send your letter in the envelope. So good bye. Be a good boy and write me all your plans, and how you get along. I was sorry to find that you forgot the chestnuts, but that miserable Sheriff hurried you off too soon. We had no time to get things ready. Your music book I will also send you, and your yellow silk handkerchief too.

Good bye. Give Fred a good kiss for me and imagine you have one too.

From your loving

Mother

Tell Fred to write as often as he can & tell me if he does not think you look well.