Abbot/Bowditch Family Letters

Nancy (Stickney) Abbot to her daughter Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch, Georgiana Abbot to her sister Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch, and George Abbot to his daughter Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch, 16 May 1845

[From Nancy (Stickney) Abbot in Beverly, Massachusetts, to her daughter Elizabeth (Abbot) Bowditch in Tarboro, North Carolina, about 1 1/2 months after Elizabeth's marriage to Joseph Henry Bowditch. The letter is actually in three parts. The first part, written by Nancy (Stickney) Abbot, asks about how she is doing, and her activities in her new home; says they miss her and hope she'll soon be living closer to them; talks a bit about Elizabeth's wedding festivities; and talks about various people and events in Beverly. The second part, by Elizabeth's sister Georgiana Abbot, talks about how they wonder what Elizabeth's new life is like in the South, and updates her about people and events in Beverly. The third part, by Elizabeth's father George Abbot, describes how much he misses her; gives her advice on adapting to her new home; and talks about various friends and family members.

Addressed to "Mrs. Joseph H. Bowditch, Tarborough, N. C." Separate notations near the address say "G. A. & Anna Abbot, May 1845," and "Beverly, May 16th, 1845."]

Beverly May 16th 1845

My dear Daughter,

I was very much ples'd to receive a good long letter from you, telling me of your good health and spirits, but not as particular as I wish you to be as it regards your health, wether you feel better than you did in the winter, if you have gained any flesh, &c. Do you use a plenty of exercise in the open air? Do the ladies not ride on horseback. I should think you might trust yourself on some of those horses that you describe without fear of falling backward.

Your things arrived safe. I am very glad to hear it. How do you like your bedstead and fixings, and indeed all your things. In fact is there anything that you wish you had thot of taking with you, or anything that you particularly want? If so, write us.

You mention the old piano, if you had it there how much you should practice. Your father¹ would have sent it on with your furniture should he have thought you would not have had a better one, and will even now if you should like it. He feels unwilling you should lose your musick entirely. Write and say if it shall be sent to you.

You do not complain of being homesick, or discontented, altho your manner of living is very different from what you have been accustomed to. I heartily wish I could transport some of my room to you. I could spare some without in[_____]ing myself at all. I expected to hear that you were busily employed in preparing for housekeeping. I understood by H.² letters that was your intention. Are there no handsome houses in the place.

By the way your father was talking with Mr. Heywood the other day. He was surprised that you were gone to Tarborough. He spent some days in the place, was there town meeting day. Thought you would not stay there long. I look forward to the time anxiously when you will be nearer us. Is there not a prospect of Jo. Henry's³ coming to New York. Do urge his trial to get established in business there. We can not reconcile ourselves to your being so far from us.

Has H. Dodge⁴ called upon you. This is about the time he is expected. I sent cake to all those you wrote for and a number of others that Sarah⁵ mentioned [__?__] Baily, Mrs. [__?__], and miss [__?__] and a number of others that I do not recollect. I very much wonder that she should overlook Mr. Gilman.⁶ I felt very sorry. How did your cut. Was it underdone as I immagined, and was there any of the frosting on when you received it?

Mr. Drew did very well. The lemonade was called very nice, and indeed every thing went off well, and every one seemed pleased, & that is all I wished.

As for Mrs. Rantoul,⁷ I can't tell for the life of me what displeased her. She has been very pleasant since. H. called here to enquire for you last Eve. She was quite pleas'd with your letter, and should send an answer today so you hear often from home.

You wish to know what we are doing? Just what you imagined, fixing over old clothes for the children. G.⁸ is upstairs at work, and I am writing in the sitting room with a coal fire. It has been very warm. Last Sunday & Monday the glass was up to 92°. That beats Tarboro.

I have not got anything new excepting a bonnet for G. It an open Madina with a wreath of green grape leaves and strings, very pretty indeed, cost about four dollars. How do you like yours, and do you wear the flower.

I work a little in the garden every day when I can spare time. John⁹ likewise has done a great deal in his vacation, and the garden just now looks quite neatly. I wish I could have some of your flowers and seed to plant. Have planted pomegranite, and we are as brown as tho we had made a voyage to the east Indies, but you know I don't mind that, there is nothing like employment.

Charles¹⁰ looks well. He takes leave of Gov. Davis today. What are his future plans we don't know. I presume he aspires to a captaincy now. Israel¹¹ comes to see us every eve, and is delighted that he can come home so often.

I wish I could send you a pot of baked beans. Can't you learn them to cook that yankee dish. They could be cooked in a dutch oven very well.

Mrs. Bowditch¹² and Sarah⁵ are well I believe. S. is in Salem. Mrs. Upton¹³ has been to Boston a day or two. Frank¹⁴ has not sail'd yet. N. Wyer¹⁵ is comfortable, and is likely to live this six months or longer, Abby M.¹⁶ the same I believe. I hear nothing different.

I think I have answered all your questions and shall expect you to answer all mine immediately, and write often to your Affectionate Mother.

You know my aversion to writing, and how long it is since I took a pen before.

[The following part of the letter is by Elizabeth's sister Georgiana, crossing over her mother's writing.]

My dear Sister,

Ma¹⁷ has at last been prevailed upon to write you, and now she wants me to cross it to cover the writing. She has told you about all that is going on with us. We don't have much of anything that is strange or unusual going on.

Your letter was a nice long one, and I am going to commence one on the large paper, and one of these days you will have to spend a whole day making it out. I was very much amused at your description of Southern manners, and can truly say I don't envy you your lot among the negroes. If I were you I should want to go to housekeeping immediately and adopt Northern habits, and live a little more like yourself. I would keep a pig too, and teach him to let his spare ribs grow. As for the potatoes, I should like a sweet one this moment. Have you made any blancmange yet.

Oh how I should like to make you a call, just to see if the idea that I have of Tarboro and it inhabitants is a true one. Of course every thing would strike me more ridiculously than it did you, as I have never seen anything southernified.

Everybody is inquiring for and about you, how you like and what kind of a place T. is. Mrs. Frink¹⁸ has been in two or three times, wished me to give much love to you and tell you how much she regretted not being here the 2nd of April. Her Aunt Tucker¹⁹ is nicely again.

I am in your room now, looking out of the window trying to catch a glimpse of Jo. Henry.³ I have been looking so long that my eyes ache, so I thought I would take my writing desk and write a few lines to see if six o'clock won't come sooner.

Pa still goes to Boston every day. The Carioca made another successful trip yesterday. John⁹ went up to Boston and went out in her. Every one that went was very much pleased with her sailing, 11 miles an hour against the wind. I believe she is about ready for sea. Look out for her up Tar river.

Freddy²⁰ often packs Libbey's trunk and writes you letters. His little rabbits died. He has three kittens which compensate him for their loss.

We haven't seen Sarah⁵ or Mrs. Bowditch¹² yet. Sarah is in Salem keeping house for Mrs. Upton,¹³ who is in Boston visiting at Mrs. Abbots.²¹

Mr. Coles has gone to Boston again. He was very anxious to alter the picture, but pa thought it was hardly worth the while, as perhaps he wouldn't better it.

Mr. Dole²² has an organ for his church, and Sarah Webber²³ is taking lessons to play on it. Mr. Johnson has left us, and a Mr. Young will commence playing for us in October. Mr. Thorndike and Miss Abbot will play until that time.

Our Sabbath School commenced last Sunday. Your scholars are scattered about, but I see nothing of Thomas Bridges.²⁴ He graduates when his teacher left I presume.

Mr. Richard Picket²⁵ is engaged to John Picket's wife's sister.

Mrs. Giddings²⁶ is moving, will get into her house this week. She has had very little done to the house.

Pa had a letter from Mr. Gould²⁷ yesterday. Said that he had heard from you once, and hopes to again soon.

Marianne is not well at all. Her lungs were very painful all day Sunday and in the night, and Monday she raised blood twice. She is very much frightened but hopes it was not from the lungs. She sends much love to you as they all do up there, and to Jo. Henry too.

Ma wrote you that I had a Madina bonnet. It is a "Neapolitan Open work" like Sarah's and Rebecca Foster's. I haven't worn it yet, fit only for a very warm day.

Freddy is looking over me, and in answer to my question "what shall I say to Libby for you" says "Tell Libby I want her to come home. I won't call her "booby" again if she will."

Nancy Wyer¹⁵ always inquires for you very affectionately, and always wants me to come in and tell her when I hear from you. She suffers a great deal some days. The warm weather is not so pleasant to her. Sarah is almost worn out, watchers are getting tired and it is not unusual that she is obliged to watch both day and night. The confinement does not affect her looks however.

Martha²⁸ practises her music every day, and improves I think. She has learned "Te tanta pal pita" and plays it very well with me. Ellen²⁹ commenced learning a few weeks ago. I expect they will be proficients before long.

I shall commence my next letter on large paper. Don't know how long it will take me to fill it, for you know I have not a very feeble imagination, and begin to think that Mrs. Pearsons³⁰ was right in saying "I had but one idea in my head."

Do write soon. We would like to hear from you once a week. Why can't we. Good bye dear sister.

Yours affectionately, G.

Ma sends much love to Jo. Henry, so do I. Accept much from yourself from both of us.

[The following part of the letter was written by Elizabeth's father George Abbot.]

Friday Ev'ng May 16th/45

My Dear Daughter,

Your mother¹⁷ & Georgiana,⁸ you observe, have written & crossed the two foregoing pages, and embraced so much matter I fear they have left me little to say that will be interesting. Therefore you must take the will in excuse should I fail.

There is one thing however that interests me very much, and is exceedingly painful. That is the absence of my dear daughter, and I don't know as I ever can be reconciled to it. I miss you very much Elizabeth indeed, and were it not that the knowledge that your own happiness depended upon your absence, I should be exceedingly unhappy myself. But as fate has decreed it so, I bow submissively, hopeing the time is not far distant when we shall again ha[_____] happiness, not only to have you with us temporarily, bu[_____] so near us that we shall be able to enjoy a considerable share of your society.

I am pleased to find from the tenor of your letter to your mother that you are in good spirits and health, and I sincerely believe that you have every thing in your husband³ to ensure your happiness. A few deprivations you will doubtless experience, scenes & society very different to what you have been accustomed to, which may, or may not, be agreeable, but which you will soon get accustomed to, and be familiar with, and in a short time find even agreeable, if now otherwise. It is wisely so ordered. The human mind will accustom itself to almost any vicissitude and deprivation, and particularly so if promoted by affection.

I shall endeavour if possible in the course of the season to fulfill my promise, or intimation, of visiting you. You must write us often, and advise us of your health. You know it was a great inducement with me, in consenting to your leaving us, the improvement of what I began to fear was a decline [_____] health. You must be sure & take much exercise and avoid as much as possible the damp evening air, particularly the [__?__] part of the evening, which is generally most prejudicial in all climates not subject to high frosts.

You will perhaps say Pa is getting sentimental, and feel if I write such nonsense, if "few and far between" my letters will be most agreeable.

While I am writing, Charles Lamson¹⁰ & Georgiana are in the room whispering away "for a truth." I invited Charles to cross my page, but he declines saying that he wrote & rewrote, and altered his letters so often before he gets one to please him that a single page will hardly suffice. He will write you soon. Has left the Gov. Davis, she is going to New Orleans.

Freddy²⁰ is also here, plaguing me dredfully, wants paper to write Libby himself.

Georgiana wrote you of the sad death of Warren.³¹ It was terrible, and he in a sad state to leave the world, poor fellow. James wrote me yesterday. He wished me to administer on his property. I have consented, but my labours will be light, for the poor fellow I learn had run out all his property almost entirely.

I saw Mrs. Pearson³⁰ [_____] day or two since. She expects a letter from you. I hope you have [_____]n her. If not pray do so soon. She is quite anxious to hear from you.

Re[_____] me affectionately to your husband, and believe what you know, I am si[_____] your affectionate father

G. Abbot

P.S. Speaking of "Warrens" death reminds me of a dreadful accident that took place the day before yesterday in Boston. Perhaps your husband was acquainted with Mr. George A. Goddard,³² son of Wm. Goddard. He had purchased a new horse, and in going out of Boston thro Northhampton Street, he took fright at a steam saw mill run, threw Mr. G. out on the pavement & killed him instantly. The physicians say he probably did not breathe after the stroke. In high health & spirits, after his daily labours, returning to a fond wife & family of children, to be taken away so suddenly is terrible indeed.

Your old friend "Josiah," his father tells me, has given up the steam boat business and is an agent for the "company" doing very well. I am glad to hear it, he is a fine fellow.

Supposing you would like to hear what is passing in our neighborhood, I have subscribed for a Salem paper to send you. I hope you will receive it regularly, as the mails will permit, and find agreeable interest in reading them.

The "Carioca" is about ready for sea. We have had two "trial trips" down Boston harbour. She behaves admirably, "is very fast" going with steam alone 10½ to 11 miles "nautical" per hour. Will probably sail for Rio de Janeiro in all the next week.

As before very affectionately.

 

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

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