10. Nellie's Letters, September-October 17, 1865

Frosty Retreat. Friday a.m. Sept 8th/65

My Dear Friend --

Your good long letter of July 30th was not received until last night, and I confess I had looked impatiently for it's arrival every day for the past two weeks. Of course there is no need of my answering it so soon but I happen to feel in the mood this morning, and that is the only law I know this summer.

It's too late for you to have a piece of the wedding cake. I thought at the time of sending you some but concluded it was not expedient to do so for various reasons -- one being that rich cake is apt to make boys sick, when there is no

person of experience near to say how much 'twill do for them to eat you know I wouldn't cause a pain near the region of your heart for the world!

Thank you -- but I think perhaps you had better not send any precious stones by Express. Who knows what wonders that Miss Grace with the "large, firm, lustrous black eyes, and such an exquisite mouth!" may work upon that susceptible heart of yours?

My nondescript eyes, and barely passable mouth, would suffer so much in a comparison that I hope you won't be tempted to draw one. -- She has just the complexion you ought to mate with, while I have not. -- Hadn't you better transfer your affection? I'll try and console myself by hunting up a pair of black eyes -- you know I always did admire them, so I couldn't blame you if you liked them better. -- am I not self-sacrificing?

Add and Flo have been here on a short visit as they returned from their tour. Flo looks younger and prettier than she has for a long time. Devoting herself to enjoying life evidently agrees with her. They have

now gone to New Haven to "settle down, but are going to board at present.

Byron is in Wiscasset visiting his "lady fair", I'll deliver your messages when I write to them. Ain't you afraid Hattie's kiss may get brushed away if I keep it where she so inconsiderately left it? -- I can't help getting kissed sometimes, and who knows whether my property is taken or that I have in charge? A year is a long time to keep a kiss sweet without having it pickled. -- Oh! A happy thought! I'll get Mrs Frost to salt the bothersome thing down with her cucumbers then you can get it of her if I am not here just as well. What a relief!

How can you say my life has been "all sunshine and gladness"? Do you forget Harry that I have no father, no mother, no home? And could I have lost them all -- thru of the dearest earthly blessings -- without intense heart suffering? If you witnessed the hours of grief which sometimes come to me even now as the thoughts of my happy childhood and loving parents sweep over me you would think I had my share of darkness

and gloom. Time has softened my woe and in a manner brought resignation, but it will never entirely heal the wound left in my childish heart.

You know how free of care and pain it was when you wished me joy on my sixteenth birthday, and yet one short year made of the careless child a thoughtful woman. Yes -- vastly different is the history of our lives, but I believe mine has known as much of pain as yours, despite it's seeming calmness. With all my careless and nonsensical talk, I never forget for a moment that I have the care of two little sisters and that I am responsible for their future character. Harry it troubles me to decide whether I I could conscientiously go away and leave those little ones. You know I have been their sister-mother for nearly four years, and beside their being attached to me in an unusual degree, I feel that they are just at the age when they need my care the most. -- I can't think it out, so I trust it to time as I have so many

5.

other matters that bother me.

Cousin May finished her visit and went back nearly a month ago, and the days have been much longer to me since then although in reality growing shorter. Autumn is coming with her bright hued robes. Already the leaves are beginning to turn; the birds sing less and the crickets chirp more, as if to improve the moments given them before the chilling winds come. The farmers talk of harvesting, and one by one the festoons of apples are hung above the kitchen stove.

The spinning wheel hums monotonously and knitting needles fly -- "Time and tide wait for no men", interupts Mrs F__ to her worthy spouse who is not remarkably "spry" in his movements, and so aptly it comes into my train of thought that I wrote it almost involuntarily. The crow of a youthful chanticleer whose voice is not yet clear, reminds me of the time when they were young and I believe I was writing to you at the time and told you of the downy flock, well they are so big now I have to look