Abbot/Bowditch Family Letters

Ellen Abbot to her sister Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch, and Nancy (Stickney) Abbot to her daughter Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch, 21 September 1848

[From Ellen Abbot in Beverly, Massachusetts, to her sister Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch in Tarboro, North Carolina. The second part of this letter was written by her mother Nancy (Stickney) Abbot. She asks about Elizabeth's children, and talks about the activities of various family members and friends.

Addressed to "Mrs. Joseph H. Bowditch, Tarboro, N. C.," and postmarked "Beverly MS, Sep 25."]

Beverly September 21st 1848

My Dear sister,

As ma¹ thinks that I can write well enough to write to you I thought I would try. We are all well and hope that you and your family are the same. How does little Nat,² & Georgianna,³ do? I suppose he has grown to be quite a large boy, by this time. How I should like to see them. I wonder if he remembers us. Freddy⁴ is out in the street playing.

You wrote Martha⁵ quite a long letter. She was very glad, as it was the first one she ever received. She has a vacation now for three weeks. They had an examination last Wednesday. The scholars appeared very well indeed. Stanton Whitney⁶ & William Thorndike⁷ spoke pieces.

I went down to Eunice's to make a call. We went at half past two, and staid till half past six. We had a very pleasant time. We played with the dog, & hide & seek. The dog is a very handsome color, the color of a chinchilla.

Grandma⁸ & Grandpa⁹ are both well now. Grandma has had a very sick turn, but she is better now. She sends her love to you.

Charles Richard Bridge¹⁰ is dead. He died last evening with the typhus fever at 6 o'clock. His mother¹¹ was absent at the time he was taken. She had been making a visit in Albany, New York, all summer. They sent for her by telegraph, & she got here the next day.

Mrs. Frink¹² has been sick about all summer, is thought to be getting better. She walked out to the gate with help the other day.

Mrs. Rantoul¹³ is still living.

George¹⁴ is still at home. He has not got a chance to go to sea yet. He wrote you a few lines in Martha's letter to let you know he had not quite forgotten you, & perhaps I can prevail upon him to write in this, so you may see he has not forgotten how to write.

Israel¹⁵ has been very sick, but he soon got over it. He was threatened with a fever.

Mrs. Lamson¹⁶ sends her love to you. Mrs. Page¹⁷ & Mary Ann¹⁸ have been sick. Mrs. Susan Lovett¹⁹ has gone down to Brunswick to make a visit. Mrs. Chapman²⁰ of Woburn is dead, Mrs. Lovett's²¹ mother.

We read by the paper that John²² has been spoken with, on his way to Canton, the 24th of June.

Mrs. Meacom²³ is going to be a neighbor to us. She is moving down in Mr. John Picketts²⁴ house.

The last week has been very cold, cold enough to have a fire, & George¹⁴ is preparing our stove for winter.

We are learning [_____] to make paper flowers, & when we can make them well enough we intend to make you a bunch to send when we have a convenient opportunity.

With love from all to all,

I am your affectionate sister,

Ellen L. Abbot

[The rest of this letter was written by Elizabeth's mother Nancy (Stickney) Abbot.]

My dear Elizabeth,

You see that Ellen²⁵ is not willing to be out done by Martha.⁵ She would not be satisfied untill I gave her liberty to write you, and you have all the news, apparently in one breath.

I have just returned from C. H. Brige's¹⁰ funeral. None of his brothers, or sisters, were there, but Joshua.²⁶

We have been expecting a letter from you to George,¹⁴ as you mentioned you should write.

We have had a good deal of sickness here, but generally has not proved fatal.

How are those dear little ones. O how I should admire to see them. I would give almost any thing if I could come to you, and return again in a day, or two. But it is an impossibility for me to spend the winter, as you wish. My business needs my attention here, and more than that, the expense would be greater than I could afford, for the children, & I could not come without them. So I must be patient, untill I can see you all, which I trust will be some time hence, but when I dare not trust myself to think. But perhaps circumstances will bring us together before we are aware of it.

I shall be very lonely this winter, if George goes away. He has some prospect of it. Mr. Silsbee sent for him to come over to Salem on Monday.

I do not see Hannah²⁷ at all. She confines herself entirely to her mother,¹³ who is failing very gradually, I should think. I saw E. Story²⁸ pass with her husband²⁹ last eve. She expects to be sick in about two weeks.³⁰ Mrs. Pearson³¹ has taken a house in Hancock St. with Mrs. Townsend³² (Ellen Briton that was), and George³³ is with her.

About this time last year you left us, all well and happy, but now how changed. Those that cheered us with their company, and smiles, are gone forever, and I am left solitary and alone, to wander about the house from one dreary room to another, and think over and over again those dreadful scenes that I have passed through.³⁴

I don't see any prospect of my letting my house, as there don't seem to be any one who would give the rent that I should be obliged to ask for it.

Tell little Nat² if his little pigeons were here now, they would have cold toes methinks. I can see those little tiny fingers giving corn, one kernel at a time, and little Georgy³ making hands and feet fly when he comes near her. Tell them a good long story about their grandmother, how much she loves them, and how hard she would kiss and squeeze them if she could get near them.

Poor Georgiana's³⁵ things remain as when they were brought here. If there is anything that belonged to her of the clothing that you would like, write and I will reserve it for you. You [_____] exactly what she had; what she had after she was married I would not take. Enclosed I shall send you a lock of your father's,³⁶ and Georgiana's hair.

Sunday Sept 24th

I have been to church this morning, and heard Mr. Lothrop, a fine sermon. The text was "show us the father." And what was very odd and strange was to see Mr. Rantouls³⁷ seat and pew empty. Therefore I expect Mrs. Rantoul¹³ is worse, & I shall have to record her death in this letter. Therefore I shall not close untill tomorrow.

I am very glad to hear that your friends, Mrs. Owen³⁸ and Howel,³⁹ are doing well. Give my love to all, who are kind enough to enquire for me.

Did I ever acknowledge the receipt of Jo Henry's⁴⁰ Note, for I am sure I cannot tell. If not, he must excuse me, for I have had a great deal to attend to, which has caused me much anxiety, and will, untill all is settled, and I shall know how I can live for the future.

I have just heard that Mrs. Rantoul is no more. She died last night at 12 o'clk, a great to Hannah²⁷ & her father.³⁷ The old man looks pale and sad, much altered since his wife's sickness. Mrs. R. has been down stairs dressed in the usual dress and sitting at the window untill within a day or two. A remarkable family for keeping up untill death prostrates them.

I have nothing more to write at present, therefore I will bid you good bye. With a thousand kisses for the children an love to you all, subscribe myself your

affectionate mother,

A. A.

 

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

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