In late September, 1851, Augusta Goodrich returned to Hartford, Connecticut at
the request of her dear Uncle Elizur Goodrich with whom she had lived while
attending a Ladies Seminary in the late 1840's. Elizur's wife, Mary, was in ill
health and in need of constant care. When she arrived in Hartford, she
quickly sent James Griffing a letter informing him of her relocation. In
response, James wrote the following:
Middletown,
Connecticut
October 2, 1851
Beloved
Augusta,
And so you are
back again at Hartford? You may be assured that it took me by surprise to
receive a letter postmarked so near Middletown and that in a handwriting I was
confident appeared somewhat natural. I am very glad that you have come down East
to spend the winter. I do believe you will enjoy yourself so much better than
away off at Owego [New York] where there is no place and scarcely any body but
home and its pleasant associations. After all if your beloved Aunt is to be
accompanied each hour with annoying pain, wasting disease, and a long list of
bodily infirmities and afflictions, it will subtract very much from your
enjoyment. It grieved my heart much to listen to a rehearsal of her daily
suffering and I should think from what you write that in all probability her
delicate frame will not be able long to withstand the impartial attacks of
disease. Besides those bright ones on High, who know how to appreciate true
worth, are intensely anxious to enjoy the pleasure of her society and welcome
her to her more appropriate abode. I do believe, dear A., that if possible you
will be led to witness in her sickness more clearly the supreme excellency and
utility of the Christian religion. You will see that it possesses a power, and
truthfulness, an energy and consolation unafforded by any other system or
through any other means ever devised. You will perceive that it contains an
efficacy to support, console, and satisfy in the severest hours of affliction
when earthly friends with their best efforts and kindest attention fail in
affording the least mental comfort. Then it is that its beauty and excellency
are most clearly seen and its reality defies all power of contradiction. At all
hours of life its possession causes every other consideration to dwindle toward
nothing when taken in the contrast. But when life’s hours are nearly measured
and the feeble pulse and languid system betoken a speedy departure from all the
associations of earth, substitute if you can from the best of earth a better,
happier, more desirable object than a hope of salvation through Christ. ‘Tis
this that makes the feeblest strong, that makes earthly friends and earthly
duties objects to attract them here, but makes heaven and its society a place
more desirable… Such I believe is the case with your Aunt Mary. And I am
confident that you will find the tediousness of your duties greatly relieved by
observing the unearthly calmness, the meek submission, which every hour will
allow you to witness.
But Chum
[Gorham Walton] says he must go to the [post] office soon and I want this to go up by
today’s mail. I would like much to see you but don’t know when I shall.
Today we have no literary exercises on account of the County Fair, as many of
the students desired to attend and hear the address. After the address, I
purpose to go up in Glastonbury [Connecticut] to spend the Sabbath as Cousin
Hancie [Abbey] promised to take me around and show me all the cousins. I wish
you could only be there Saturday. But I suppose you can’t. Neither will you
receive this in time. When shall you come down in Glastonbury? If you could only
tell, I would meet you there.
The
Trustees came in yesterday from Westchester [Connecticut] and employed me to
teach there in a [select] school, adjacent to the one I taught two winters
before. I shall average about 16 scholars. I commence teaching the 10th of
November. Did you bring that watch down with you? If so, will you be so kind as
to let Hancie have it sometime when she is there and I can get it from her
house. The watch I have at present goes too fast. Excuse greatest haste. Please
write me first of the week. Tell me about your Aunt and whether they have [ever]
received those things. I have not yet heard positively. My health is quite good.
Write any news from home you may receive. Until I hear from you, believe me
yours ever, -- J. S. Griffing
In the weeks to come, James was to engage in his school
activities as never before. Through the autumn months he practiced his public speaking in both
the debating and missionary societies, arguing the questions of the day. Some of the popular questions considered by the Philorhetorian Society
included;
"Is the Colonization Society
more worth of praise than the Abolition Society?""Would
the annihilation of distinctions in society be beneficial?"
"Is
a congress of Nations desirable?"
In
the last question, James argued the negative with his good friend Calvin
Harrington and must have been gratified when the Committee of Decision voted
against the affirmative arguments of George Pratt and Archibald C. Foss -- the Society President.
In the Missionary Lyceum, James continued to offer his
services by opening the meetings with prayer, participating in debates, and when
attendance waned, volunteering with Harrington and Loomis to "solicit the
pledges of members to be present." Whenever
possible, the society invited speakers to address the members on the various
missionary efforts around the world. In one interesting meeting, the following minutes were
recorded:
October
20, 1851
The
regular exercises of this evening gave place to a very interesting and
instructive address by the Rev. Mr.
[Augustus Ward] Loomis, a late missionary to China, on the
subject of Missions in that land. The speaker, after discoursing at length on
the moral and social degradation of the Chinese and the means of operation for
their conversion to Christianity, closed his address with a very eloquent and
appropriate tribute to the memory of our lamented President [Stephen Olin].
W.
R. Clarke, President
C.D. Foss, Recording Secretary
A couple of weeks before leaving college to teach his select school in
Westchester, Connecticut, James addressed another letter to Augusta in her
temporary Hartford home:
[Middletown,
Connecticut]
Friday Eve, October 24, 1851
[Beloved
Augusta,]
My friend
John [Gifford]
Parsons has just been in my room and says he intends to go home [to Hartford] next Tuesday and
will carry up a line for me. Consequently, I will not send what I have written
until he goes. I have just been reading the proceedings of the trial at Owego
[New York]. I am almost sorry that I undertook it. It created a vast degree of
excitement, I presume. However, ‘ere this you have heard all about it. Your
Father I noticed was among the grand jury. The trial lasted five days. A
strenuous effort was made in the part of the defense to prove insanity but the
jury, after an hour’s consultation, brought in a verdict of “guilty.” The
defense succeeded in some way to obtain the grant of a new trial which takes
place in January. [1]
I received a
letter from [my] brother Henry tonight informing that all were usually well.
Mother remained with [my sister] Permelia for three weeks, which is a long while
for her to stay away from home. I wonder how she contented herself so long.
[Henry] spake of the death of his mother-in-law [and] said it was peaceful and
triumphant. Said nothing of great importance had happened in the region round
about.
And now dear
Augusta, how are you enjoying yourself this fall? I think it cannot be otherwise
than first rate among your old associates and friends. Or does the continued
feebleness of your Aunt [Mary] confine you so closely as to create anxiety and
continual weariness? I do hope that your own health may not be impaired in your
fidelity to the comfort and happiness of others. I would like very much to see
you this fall and have a good visit, but think perhaps it will not be
convenient until Spring as I expect the 10th of November to commence my school
and shall be necessarily very busy until that time. I would like also to go over
[the river] to [Portland to visit] Aunt Rachel [Taylor Goodrich] once more before I go, but shall not find time.
Does your
Sabbath School continue as interesting as ever – and also bible class? If your
Aunt gets well, shall you attend school there this winter? Are you acquainted
with Mr. [John] Parson’s people? Is Dr. [Joel] Hawes’ health good? Does he continue
his evening lectures to the young people? Have they made many additions to the
historical collection in the Athenaeum, &c, &c.?
Now
please Augusta, write me soon and give me all the news. I shall expect one
letter more before I go to Westchester. Perhaps you can send by Mr. [John
Gifford] Parsons as
he returns back on Saturday. If not convenient, please send by mail, only let me
hear from you often. Fill a good large sheet as you know how fond I am of long
letters (I.E. if you have time). Forget not to remember me to your Aunt [Mary]
and Uncle [Elizur]. And when at evening’s hour you bow to return thanks for
the unnumbered blessings of the day, Oh then breathe some devout wish for one
who will ever love you, and rest assured that you shall ever share the
heart’s best wishes of your friend, -- James
The
Wesleyan University attendance records indicate that James was excused from the
college "to teach" on November 7, 1851. Once again, James returned to
the community of Westchester on the banks of the Salmon River to teach a select
school. It was from this location that James penned a response to Augusta's
letter informing him of the death of her beloved Aunt Mary
Goodrich, wife of her Uncle Elizur.
Westchester
[Connecticut]
December 18, 1851
Much loved
Augusta,
[Your Aunt
Mary] died peacefully and easily. Now she is at rest and we rejoice in tears for
her, just as would be expected of one so well prepared as was she, for so great
an exchange. Yet the thought that she has gone – gone from the society and
charge of her dear children; gone from the bosom and embrace from the company
and consolation of her dearly beloved husband, all of whom needed her so much;
gone from a large circle of relatives and friends most dearly prized by those
who knew her best; gone to mingle no more in their society here and to
administer no farther advice or words of comfort. It is this thought that fills
with grief the heart to overflowing and throws such a pall of sadness over a
multitude of weeping hearts. Oh how much her family, society, and the world
needed her here to assist in the great task of making the world happy and
better, but we are illy qualified to judge what would be for the best in these
matters. Without doubt, Heaven saw that its purposes and designs could be best
carried out in conveying her thither and acted accordingly. Consequently, we
will not, we cannot complain, but bow submissively and ascribe honor and praise
to that Being who has spared her to us so long and permitted us to witness the
power, the effects, and necessity of the principles of religion, deeply
implanted in the heart… She has left a world of sin, of pain, of sorrow, of
disappointments, for one of unending joy. [She has] left, dear friend, to join
the pure and spotless in the immediate presence of her Savior and although she
was deprived of the guardianship of those the dearest to her here on earth, yet
she can commend them to Christ, that Heavenly Guardian, who has promised to
befriend with peculiar regard the parentless. And could we be allowed our
heart’s desires, Oh who would be so heartless as to wish her back, a
participator in the sufferings she has escaped. Although gone, her heavenly
disposition, her unsullied reputation, her exemplary life, will live long in our
minds and lead us to emulate her virtues.
The news of
her death was truly painful to me. Speedily it brought to mind the pleasant
hours I had spent in her society, the kind advice at different times given, and
the parent-like regard exhibited toward one who had not the least claim upon her
kind and generous heart, all awakened in my bosom emotions not easily described.
I had promised myself that I should often again associate with her here although
perhaps not enjoying that degree of health that she did formerly. And, if
nothing more, I thought I could as much as in person thank her for her multitude
of kindnesses received at her hand for which I shall ever feel a deep
indebtedness. But all these have been denied me, and now her angel countenance
and sainted spirit beckon me to a participation in that Heaven where change and
sorrow, pain, and suffering, are eternally unknown… I do love to think and
talk about it and do hope the pain this affliction brings will lead me to be a
better man and more consistent Christian. I should have been glad to have heard
more of the particulars concerning her death, the feelings of the children, and
the apparently lone husband, the circumstances of the funeral, whether many of
the relatives were present, and what was the text at the funeral discourse? How
is your own health? And also her husband's? Shall you probably soon return to
Owego?
Sabbath Eve.
Here I am at home. The women have their knitting and sewing and are busily at
work, in the meantime visiting with a neighbor who has called in to spend the
evening, so that I shall be obliged to write surrounded by conversation, but I
will try and keep it out of the letter so far as I can. Sabbath always departs
on this Society at the going down of the sun, a custom handed down from the
Father and which they cling to with much greater tenacity than in any society I
was ever in. However, it’s just as well as all attend the same church and are
united in this observance. Yet I do believe in many New England villages a
grievous sin is committed by this practice, especially when there are several
denominations, some keeping Saturday nights and others not, as a general thing
neither are kept as they should be, [when] the young people of some families
break in upon the quiet and peace of others. I believe God requires one seventh
of our time to be appropriated specially in attending to the welfare of our
undying nature and that all communities should be agreed as to the time set
apart for this purpose.
A young
[19-year-old] lady [named Janette Loomis] was buried in this society, deeply lamented by a large circle of sisters and
greatly stricken parents. She was one of three sisters [born on the same day], two of whom side by side
are [now] sleeping whilst a third survivor of the same age [named Jane Loomis] is left to battle a while
longer with the storms of life. Her death [on December 11, 1851] furnishes another instance of the care
that should be used in dealing out medicine. It seems that she was subject to
bilious complaints and when thus attacked, was always soon relieved by certain
pills that she always took. Feeling symptoms of her old complaint, she sent to
the Physician for her favorite pills and he, not having any on hand, sent her
some of the old calomel blue pills and did not notify her of the change.
Supposing all right, she took them but dieted for her own pills. She was after a
few days taken very sick, her tongue commenced swelling. Doctors were called,
but pronounced her beyond care. She had been living in Colchester the past
winter and, in a revival there, had experienced religion and joined the
Methodist Episcopal Church. She was prepared for the change and her last hours
were solemn and peaceful. She was just in the morning of life, when the world
multiplies so largely its charms, and holds out such strong inducements for the
young to cling to life. Yet how much better off when so early permitted to unite
in the Society of Heaven. [2]
I do not see
why I do not get a letter from home. I have not heard a word from there directly
since I came here. Cousin Hancie [Abbey] wrote yesterday that many were sick about there
with the Typhus fever, and when I hear of so much sickness and disease about, I
almost want a letter from home every day. Mother, of late, has been subject to
poor times and I am almost afraid she may be sick and suffer a great deal and I
know nothing about it. Should I hear of her sickness, I should be almost
inclined to start home immediately. Oh how long letters do seem to be coming
sometimes.
I boarded last
week with cousins of Miss Lucy Sellew's. They are quite clever, wealthy, pure
people and live in the nearest house to the schoolhouse. Should you see her, you
might tell her that Uncle Sophron [Usher]’s family are all well. [3] Hancie
[Abbey] spoke in her
letter as if she and her friend Lucy [Sellew] might come out this winter to visit their
cousins. Oh how fine that would be and then if you would come too, wouldn’t we
have a good visit. It is not far after one gets started.
I expect my chum, Mr.
Walton, will go into Hartford about Christmas. He has learned that one of his
old schoolmates – a young lady from Maine – is there visiting a sister who
resides there, and he thinks it would pay well to go in and make her a visit. I
have forgotten the name.
My school continues pleasant. It is small and easy to
manage, and I do not feel so completely worn out when night comes around as in
teaching in some places, so that I may have much time for reading and study
(I.E. in some families) and this winter is passing much as I would have it. Our
minister, Mr. [Spofford D.] Jewett, told me today that he was well acquainted with Uncle
William S. Pierson, M.D. of Windsor, Connecticut. From what he says of his
family, I think I shall enjoy a visit there very much. Should you happen in that
vicinity, I wish you would form the acquaintance of his family.
Please
write soon as you can after you receive this. Do you expect any of your people
down soon? How were things the last you heard from them? Who visits cousin
Hancie [Abbey]? I have been very anxious to know ever since I heard some conversation
one evening at her Uncle [Edwin] Bell’s [4] when I visited there. Now do tell me. If I
dared, I would ask her, but you may ask her next time you see her if she is
acquainted with Frank True. She gave some description of him in a letter to me.
Inquire the state of his health and let me know when you write. Please give me
all the news. Tell me just how time is passing along with you since the death of
your Aunt [Mary]. I think of you very often and should like to have a good visit
with you, but suppose I cannot until Spring. Yet be assured, my beloved A., that
you shall in the meantime share largely in the affections of your friend, -- J.
S. Griffing
Just before Christmas day, Augusta wrote James the following letter, providing
more details on her Aunt's death:
Hartford [Connecticut]
December 22, 1851
My dear James,
The rest are playing "Bushy" to amuse the children awhile
before bed time, but I am trying to write in the meantime. You know what it is
[like] to try to write when people are talking and laughing around you, so that
you will excuse the blunders. It
has been rather unpleasant today. Notwithstanding, [I] have been up [the] street
all the afternoon. Mrs. Beach is almost sick with a cold and a great many are
complaining in that way. Here, Aunt Lydia has been sick with [a cold] and Jamie
too, so that he has been at home more than a week. So far I have escaped, but do
not like to say much for fear I may take one too. But [I] do try to be careful. Uncle [Elizur] went to New York
[City] last Tuesday and came back Thursday. He was gone [during] those very cold
days and we could hardly keep warm. I suppose because no one could attend the
furnace as Uncle could, not that we did not keep coal enough on, for that was
the most we did. But soon as he came home, the weather moderated and of course
we got warm.
Hancie [Abbey] was up [from Portland,
Connecticut] Friday. [She] came here to dinner and I went out shopping with her
all the afternoon. I inquired after Mr. [Frank] True and she said he was well
[and] so I suppose he is. She came up with Mr. James Dayton and has been up with
him before, and report says they are to be married. You may infer what you
please, but do not write anything to her from me about it -- only that I told
[you] who she came with. I expect she will make me a visit before long as she
said she would come and stay a week. I wish you could meet her here. I think she
may come before long.
I received a letter from home last week. All were
well. Did you see at our house last summer Erastus Miller [5], a very fleshy man? If
not, presume you heard us speak of him. They wrote that he died in Pennsylvania
very suddenly in a fit last month. I was sorry to hear [of] it and thought of
many things that I said about him, and many more that I thought
of him [but] did not like to say, for he was not, to me, always a very
agreeable visitor, (or others either). In a letter they wrote some time ago,
they had just received a letter from [Rev.] Mr. [Thomas H.] Pearne from San
Francisco. His wife was sick and their little treasure, he wrote, was dead.
I wish you could have been here two weeks ago
last Friday and today. I know it would have given you great satisfaction to see
a Christian, such a Christian, as Aunt Mary [Goodrich] die. No pen or tongue can
describe the great peace with which she gave all up and closed her eyes on earth
to open but in heaven, for we are confident that her home is there. She had been
failing very fast for weeks, and for more than three weeks, we all knew that she
could not live. And she had made preparations in regards to her clothes &c.,
and sending little messages to particular friends and many other things that no
one but herself would have thought of -- all the while talking cheerfully of her
departure. At first I could not say a word, but by degrees, I controlled my
feelings and could talk calmly with her. But sometimes, when no one saw us, we
would mingle our tears together -- but she did not often give way to tears. She
did not expect to see Thanksgiving, but she was very comfortable that day. The
Wednesday night before she died was a very distressing one to her, but the next
day she was better and Thursday night she slept considerable. An experienced
watcher was with her and I slept below as one could not wait on her alone, even
to feed her. [The watcher] went home about six and I was with Aunt Mary alone.
She appeared very uneasy and could not take her usual quantity of nourishment or
brandy. I tried by rubbing to quiet her to sleep, but she commenced coughing and
nearly strangled and lost her breath. I called Uncle [Elizur] and Aunt Lydia,
and they sent for [her mother,] Mrs. Beach and the doctor. Both were here in
less than 20 minutes and the doctor said she was dying. She suffered a great
deal from distress for breath, but no pain. In an hour or so, she was revived
and took nourishment and brandy quite often.
She spoke often and said considerable. Said she was going home. She was
very sleepy and just before going to sleep said, "Lo - he - giveth his
beloved sleep" with great difficulty. I sat behind her several hours
holding her up to make her more comfortable, and she died within my arms leaning
on me -- just as I wished she might. It was such a privilege.
A little while before she died, her mother
asked if she knew her. "Yes, mother, I know it is you. But cannot see
good" [she replied]. Before that, drawing [her son] Freddy to her, she
kissed him and called him her "dear boy." She appeared to be going to
sleep and breathed shorter and shorter until her breath stopped without a
struggle, so differently from what she expected. Just before she died, her
father came in and made a short prayer, but she was not conscious. And as we
laid her back on the bed, Dr. [Joel] Hawes came in and he made a prayer. She did not look
natural, and no one knew her, but she looked peaceful.
On Saturday morning, [Aunt
Mary] was opened, which was her request. The doctor said it was [just] as he
expected. Her lungs were studded with tubercles [and] also her liver. The
membrane of her stomach [was] thickened and a large piece of fatty substance was
on one side of the heart. Part of her lungs, when cut into, appeared like
gristle.
She was put into the coffin that same
afternoon. The funeral was appointed at two o'clock. The morning was very
unpleasant. But in the afternoon, [though] quite pleasant overhead, [was] very
muddy. But the rooms were full. Mrs. Knapp [Mary's sister,] could not very well
come, but Mr. Knapp was here, and a fine man he is. One of her brothers was not
able to be here as it overcame him so much to see her that they were fearful he
would lose his reason. The rest were all here and her grandmother too. Her body
was followed to the last resting place by weeping friends. About 12 carriages
went up [to the graveyard] -- only three persons from Glastonbury were up, they
not knowing the time. Oh how lovely it seemed to come back [home] again, and the
time has seemed so long since. I [almost] forgot, today a prayer was made at
the grave. Mr. Knapp came back with us and
comforted us much. I do not wish her back, but oh! I miss her so much. Her sweet
face, her kind advice, and loving words -- but I know she is happy and I will
not mourn her as lost to us, but only gone before to make heaven a still dearer
place to gain.
Aunt Lydia and myself will stay here awhile
and when you can find time to come, shall be happy to see you. Christmas and New
Years are both close by and the children, like all of them, begin to talk of
presents.
Good night &
pleasant sleep to you. Yours truly, -- J. Augusta
In return, James penned the following letter from Westchester:
Westchester [Connecticut]
Monday after Christmas, December 29, 1851
Beloved
Augusta,
I wish no
better Christmas present than the reception of a letter from yourself. I spent
my Christmas in the schoolhouse with my scholars. We had just as pleasant a time
as could be expected under the circumstances, all striving to improve it to the
best possible advantage. Did your people write anything concerning our folks? I
don’t know hardly what to think of it. I have not received a single line
directly from home since I have been in Westchester. I hear, however, that Mr.
Ransom’s people have left the Methodist church and joined the Episcopalians. I
suppose therefore has not had his second trial yet. Miss Elena Dodge, [my]
Brother Henry’s first wife’s sister, has been married to Mr. [John W.] Piersall of
Appalachia.
My time is
very much taken up evenings in trying to go ahead with my studies, as I desire
to enter my class where I left, and shall be obliged to be out about half a
term. Yet I find it very difficult whilst boarding around from house to house.
At the place where I am boarding now, there is more or less company in [the
house] every evening and I almost grow discouraged trying to study. And as for
writing letters, I prefer the spare time I can get at the schoolhouse. I’m
sure you can testify to the advantages that place affords for writing letters,
especially if you are troubled for ideas. The noisy children will stand ready to
drive them into both ears so that you cannot attribute it to myself wholly that
my letters have proved too interesting. Yet my opportunities are far better than
I deserve. Oh how apt are we to complain if everything does not move just to
suit us, instead of uplifting our hearts in the most fervent gratitude for the
multiplicity of favors God is pleased to shower so continually upon us…
Wed. What
delightful weather we have had since Sabbath and that right in midwinter. It
seems so strange at this season to have no snow upon the ground and to have all
the scholars playing ball and engaged in the sports of summer. Hardly a sleigh
has ventured out yet this winter here but I suppose in our section [of upstate
New York] they are having first rate sleighing. How has it been in Hartford?
What have the young people found to interest themselves? Have you attended any
of the lectures before the young men’s lyceum? We have a lyceum started here
in Westchester but the people do not take much interest in it and we are obliged
to debate before almost empty houses without it is about once a month when we
have an oration delivered by some one of the members. We were to have one this
evening but it has commenced raining and I don’t think it will hardly pay to
go over. I am sorry for I wished to mail four letters – one for Hancie
[Abbey]. It is
about 2 miles over to the [post] office and I had always rather go and carry my
own letters.
My school
continues yet very agreeable and pleasant. For the first time this winter, I had
occasion to speak to one of the older girls [in my school about an inappropriate
act that she had committed]. Big tears rolled down her cheeks [after I spoke to
her] and she grieved a long time and exhibited much sorrow, and in fact, it made
me feel almost as bad as it did her. Whether she grieved on account of the act,
or reproof, or both, I know not yet. It appeared [however, to be] the genuine
sorrow which
worketh reformation. It’s so very different from other schools I have taught
where large girls would generally cause me the most perplexity and trouble, and
I believe it’s the universal testimony of schoolteachers. Why is this? Is it
because they are naturally more contrary, or ugly, or careless, or mischievous,
or rude, or lazy, or indolent, or uncivil, or boisterous than the boys? Or is it
because they possess a little more of disposition to exhibit all these traits
upon particular occasions and, if possible, hector and tease the teacher? Or is
it because the teacher is bashful and will not, or does not, like to reprove
their conduct? As you are acquainted with their disposition so much better than
myself, I wish you would enlighten me upon the subject.
Thursday,
January 1, 1852. A happy, happy New Year. May it be happier than any in your
past. I wonder how it finds you in mind and body? Does it find you enabled to
say, “My God is reconciled, His pardoning voice I hear. He owns me for his
child, I can no longer fear.”
…Give me all your latest news from home when
you write and until I see you, believe that I shall remain yours. I don’t
think it will be very convenient for me to come there until my school closes
without there is a probability of your going home. Say so if there is and I’ll
try and come. The Lord bless you abundantly, -- James
A couple of weeks later, Augusta wrote back:
Hartford
[Connecticut]
January 19, 1852
My dear James,
I cannot say
how many lines I may write tonight for I have spent most of the evening playing
with and doing little things for [Uncle Elizur’s] children. I intended to
finish but it is so late that there will be hardly time.
How are you
this cold weather, or is it warmer with you [in Westchester] than it is here? It
has been very cold indeed here – colder than for some years before – and now
for two days, or part of two, it has been snowing and blowing so hard that I
have been satisfied with only looking out. Aunt Lydia went to Glastonbury
Thursday afternoon and we expected her back today but it was so stormy and cold,
I suppose she concluded it was more comfortable indoors. And I agree with her,
although I like cold weather. I feel so much better – it invigorates. Aunt
Lydia thought of going on Monday last & so I wrote a note to Hancie to send
by her as Hancie said she would come up when she went down, but she did not go.
I thought when Hancie came we would both write you a letter, but now I am writing
alone. I have watched and watched for her, but all in vain and now will try to
give it up, but I did not recon so much on her coming, but she did not get the
word I suppose in time to come last week & today it has been too unpleasant.
But still I would look out when I thought a sleigh might be coming here.
Uncle
[Elizur]
is very busy now, as all the rest, as they are taking an inventory [at the dry
good’s store], which is a fortnight’s work. He says he is well but does not
look or appear very well. The children are very well. Freddy goes regularly to
school and Jamie is regularly at home. Dear little fellow, he is one of the best
children I ever saw – very affectionate and tender-hearted. You cannot help
but love him. I never saw such children as he is. He talks of his dying, very
often, something like this, “When I die, Cutie, shall you cut off some of my
hair?” “Yes Jamie, if I am
here.” “Well, will father cut off some then and send to you, if you are home
[in Owego]?” &c. I suppose he though of that from seeing Aunt Mary’s
hair that we cut off. Aunt Mary said she did not think he would live many years.
It is not two months since her death but it seems a long, long time since I saw
her. And then to think she will never return. It sometimes overcomes me and I
feel like murmuring against it. But I know and feel it is all for the best and
cannot wish her here to suffer as she had done for the past six years. Her work
is finished and she is receiving her reward.
I am expecting
a letter from home and will not send this I think until one comes. In the last,
they wrote that Mr. D. Taylor and Mr. Fox had been to Auburn [New York] for Mr.
Tappan [and had] taken him to Mr. Taylor’s where he lived three days. They
wrote no particulars of his death, which I should very much like to hear.
Mr. Catlin’s
sawmill burnt in December & about 15,000 dollars worth of lumber, half
belonging to Mr. Ely. But rather think not so much was burnt. Mr. [Ezra] Warren Reeves,
they also wrote, was married [on the 16th of December] to Miss [Caroline
Augusta] Slosson.
Uncle
[Elizur]
has come [home] and it is late. I will leave this for some other time.
Thursday
morning. I received a long letter from home last night, but not any particular
news. My sister Rachel had been on a visit to Guilford for a few weeks and she
gave an account of it. Our people had been sick with colds and neither Pa nor Ma
were well when they wrote, but were getting better. Charles Nealy was very sick
and has been for some time. He says he has the consumption, but the doctor calls
it rheumatism. I think from what they say that Charles is right. He was a great
swearer, hardly ever speaking without using an oath, but [my sister] Sarah says
he is changed [and] that he does not swear but talks of dying calmly. I do hope
it is true and that he has changed.
Louisa
Goodrich had been sick but was getting better. They wrote that a short time
before the mail train coming from the west, ran off the track in sight of our
house – two passenger cars and a baggage car. One passenger car turned bottom
upwards. One man had an arm and another a leg broken. Others [were] not
seriously injured but dreadfully frightened. Fanny Luca from Pipe Creek was in
[the passenger car] coming up to see Charles Nealy. One of the irons broke on
the brake caused it.
Yesterday
morning Hancie [Abbey] came, having received my note only the day before, but she did
not come to stay. And don’t you think I was disappointed. And where do you
think she was going? Only to New York when I expected she would have been here
Saturday. But it cannot be helped now. But she is coming up when she comes back.
She stayed about an hour and then I went up to the Hotel where Mrs. Meiggs, the
lady she was going with, had stopped. She will be gone about two weeks. Do
you ever see the “New York Journal of Commerce” – a daily paper? If you
do, just look at the marriages that will be in it next week commencing Monday.
Perhaps you may see one before the week is out that you may be acquainted with.
Please say nothing about what I have written as none but five or six know
anything about it. They will be published in Glastonbury next Sabbath
(probably). They intend to go from there to Washington [on their wedding tour] but may not. Now do not
on any account mention it. It is very sudden. She was going down on a visit,
also to get some dresses, and as Aunt Rachel [Taylor Goodrich] does not want to see her married,
they thought that would be a good opportunity. Aunt R. wishes it, and has always
wanted she should marry him. I cannot bear to think of it. [6]
But my paper is full
and it is nearly dinnertime and so will close, but have not said all I intended.
Ever yours, -- Augusta
Footnotes:
Rev.
Augustus Ward Loomis (1803-1897) and his wife Mary Ann were Presbyterian
missionaries to Chekiang Province, China (1845-1849), Indian Territory (1852),
and to the Chinese in San Francisco (1865-1867). His papers are archived in the
Cornell University Library at Ithaca, New York.
Rev. Augustus Ward Loomis, circa 1865.
Cornell University Archives
Hartford's Atheneum
is America's oldest public art museum, established in 1842 by Hartford art
patron Daniel Wadsworth. Shortly after its establishment, Wadsworth expanded the
art collection to include other historical artifacts.
[1]
Trial of John Metcalf Thurston, Convicted of the Murder of Anson Garrison, in
the Court of Oyer and Terminer, of Tioga Co., October Term, 1851. Owego, NY:
Beebe, 1851. 74 pp. Thurston split his brother-in-law's head open with an axe in
February 1851 following a domestic dispute between his sister and the
victim. The defense was "homicidal insanity," and several of the defendant's
relatives and former servants were called to attest to his peculiar moods and
masturbatory habits. Noted alienists (forensic psychiatrists) John S. Butler and
Charles H. Nichols testified for the defense.
John
Metcalf Thurston was, at the time of the October trial, the 30-year-old son of David
(1868-1858) and Fanny [Darling] Thurston (1788-1860). According to the 1850
census, John Thurston lived with his parents and worked as a cabinetmaker in
Owego, but married and established a home for himself and wife in November of
that same year. His younger sister, Mary Almeda Thurston (1823-1891) married Anson
Garrison, an Owego foundry worker, in 1843 and the couple had a 6 year-old daughter
called "Libbie" at the time of Anson's murder. He also had an older sister named
Nancy Darling Thurston who was mentioned in James Griffing's January 31, 1850
letter to Augusta Goodrich as taking over the department of young ladies in the
Owego Academy.
[2]
Janette Loomis was one of three daughters born to Elias and Matilda Loomis on 24
January 1833. One of the triplets died as an infant. Janette died from what
appears to be an accidental overdose of mercury poisoning (calomel). Her mother had died in 1849 and her
father had remarried Rachel Adams, so it was Elias and Rachel who were the
"greatly stricken parents" when Janette died in December 1851. She is
buried in the Westchester Cemetery along with her parents and other Loomis
family relatives.
Fallen grave marker of Janette Loomis in
Westchester Cemetery
Photo courtesy of Frank Grimes
[3]
Sophron Usher was born 29 Jan 1792 and died 8 Dec 1873. He married Abigail Lord
on 8 Nov 1826. She was born 14 Sep 1801 and died 10 Dec 1886. Sophron was the
son of Dr. Robert Usher and Anna Cone. Abigail was the daughter of Elisha Lord
and Beersheba Sellew of Glastonbury, CT.
[4]
Hancie Abbey's uncle was Edwin Bell, born December 26, 1811; the son of George
Bell and Anne Crosby. Edwin married Prudence Miller Abbey, younger sister of
Hancie's father, Anson Abbey. Prudence died 19 February 1851at age 39 and Edwin
remarried on 13 September 1852 to Harriett A. Abbey.
According to the
Portland Historical Society, Edwin Bell's residence was at 487 William Street in
Portland, CT. The tax assessor's cards seem to indicate the house was built
prior to 1840 but stylistically it appears to date to about 1850.
[5]
Erastus Miller (1791-1851), was the son of William Miller and Ester Kilburn [Kilbourne].
Ester Kilbourne (born 8 May 1760), was the daughter of Joseph Kilbourne and Mary
Hollister of Glastonbury, CT. Erastus' older sister Harriet married Israel
Goodrich. Erastus never married.
[6]
Hancie Abbey married James R. Dayton at Trinity Church Parish in New York City
on January 29, 1852.
