page_0004

Things have changed very much since you left. At
the fair ground, instead of tents, and "shows", and hundreds
of our prairie farmers walking, seeing and thinking, now
the last plank is gone, the birds and rabbits have
come back, and the wheat stands thick and green. I
walked out there alone, and sat down on the fence rails
and tried to realize how many hearts had beat high with
pleasure and hope, on that very spot, and how they had
gone by, down the stream of Time. Then I fell to
dreaming, how we were all sailing away over life's sea,
leaving the present, with the green fields and holidays
of youth; leaving it and losing it, save some random
mark upon the calendar of memory, that tells us how
we once were happy, and that 'tis past.

We have had quite an unexpected call
from Winter too; and the ground is quite white with
snow, and old Boreas whistles round the chimney
tops. Summer is really gone, and daylight is going so
I must tell you good bye for the present. I would be
pleased to hear from you often, should you take pleasure
in writing to me.

Your friend
Lizzie Fitch

[page turned, written in the left side margin]
My compliments to your father. Hope he is well.

Things have changed very much since you left. At
the fair ground, instead of tents, and "shows", and hundreds
of our prairie farmers walking, seeing and thinking, now
the last plank is gone, the birds and rabbits have
come back, and the wheat stands thick and green. I
walked out there alone, and sat down on the fence rails
and tried to realize how many hearts had beat high with
pleasure and hope, on that very spot, and how they had
gone by, down the stream of Time. Then I fell to
dreaming, how we were all sailing away over life's sea,
leaving the present, with the green fields and holidays
of youth; leaving it and losing it, save some random
mark upon the calendar of memory, that tells us how
we once were happy, and that 'tis past.

We have had quite an unexpected call
from Winter too; and the ground is quite white with
snow, and old Boreas whistles round the chimney
tops. Summer is really gone, and daylight is going so
I must tell you good bye for the present. I would be
pleased to hear from you often, should you take pleasure
in writing to me.

Your friend
Lizzie Fitch

[page turned, written in the margin]
My compliments to your father. Hope he is well.