Letters of Condolence 1900
Here are some letters of condolence received at the time of my great-grandparents' deaths (two weeks apart) in 1900. Most of the senders' identities are not precisely known to me, since surnames are rarely used and there were no return addresses, but the texts provide a wealth of clues, as well as being intrinsically interesting. In editing them, I have retained the original spelling and punctuation as much as possible to keep the breathless, sometimes confused or distraught impression I received from many of them. Often, however, I have been forced to insert or delete breaks for the sake of clarity. I have included postmark information where the envelopes survive.
In order to appreciate this collection, which as yet represents only a fraction of what I have, it is important to know the events leading to their composition. Briefly, brothers David Ewart and Alexander ANDERSON emigrated (separately) from Scotland in the 1870s, settling by 1880 in Colfax County, Nebraska. They may already have known (though this seems unlikely) the Henry J. and Harriet 'Hattie' (MERRIAM) COFFIN family who had recently arrived from Boston. After a few years, the entire group moved north to Garfield County, where David and Alexander married Alice Louise and Margaret Josephine COFFIN, respectively. The former had one daughter, Louise, and the latter six children between 1890 and 1900. According to Alexander's daughter, Merriam 'Snerp' ANDERSON, she was sitting on his lap in the front room of their house (called 'River View') one day in October, 1900, when lightening came down the chimney, striking her father but leaving her unharmed. Within days Alexander, Margaret, and their daughter Dorothy fell ill. Alexander died first, followed by his wife (Dorothy recovered, but subsequently committed suicide). The cause of death was 'pneumonia and paralysis,' but the letters often mention typhus. After the death of her husband, Margaret and her children seem to have removed to David and Alice's home (known as 'Forks Hall') where the extended family could care for them. It is clear from the letters that Alice also experienced ill health at this time. The 'Harrie' mentioned in the letters is her brother, Henry Sr. having died in 1894.
The Edith and Sue who appear below are NOT Susie Lavinia and Edith Martha MERRIAM, daughters of Harriet's eldest brother Ephraim (ob. 1882), as I first thought. Susie Lavinia and Edith MERRIAM are listed in the 1900 census and other records as living with their eldest sister, Elinor (MERRIAM) WELD, wife of A. Spalding WELD and their family. I have not been able to ascertain who the authors of the letters signed by ‘Sue’ and ‘Edith’ are. Their ‘Aunt Rose,’ born in Maine, whose maiden name is still unknown to me, lived in Brooklyn and was the widow of Warren F. BROWN, a traveling salesman from either Scotland or Canada, and mother of Frederick and Warren. S[amuel] H[eaton] Gerow seems to have been a friend to David and Alexander, from New York, but not a family connection [UPDATE: The 1880 now available on familysearch.org shows David living with Gerow as a farm hand in Connecticut]. Other more or less identifiable people include James Albert BARKER, Sr. of Lexington (born in N.H., ca. 1828), who in 1854 married Sarah FURGUSON, born in N.H. ca. 1827, died 1900, and their son James Albert ‘Bert’ BARKER, Jr. James and Sarah’s niece Sarah POLSEY (born in MA in Nov., 1841) was married to Samuel SEABURY (born in Maine in Sept., 1840). Their children were Samuel, Grace F. (born Jan., 1873) and Marian P. (born Feb., 1874). E[lla] A. WETHERBEE (born ca. 1856 in MA; died 26 Feb., 1921) was the daughter of Doddridge and Martha J. WETHERBEE. This family had been neighbours of the COFFINs in 1870; she had brothers Henry (born ca. 1852) and George (born ca. 1859) and sister Addie (born ca. 1858). William and Ida WILSON and their daughter Sadie were living in Lost Creek Township, Platte Co., Nebraska and may have known the COFFINs and ANDERSONs from the period the latter had lived in neighbouring COLFAX Co., but seeing that William was born in Scotland in 1848, perhaps they knew David and Alexander from ‘the old country.’ The ‘Carrie’ who authored some of the letters below I have discovered to be Carrie (maiden name unknown) SKINNER, wife of Edward SKINNER and mother of Carrie and Hannah. The Ralph and Roy she alludes to are the sons of Edward’s brother Joseph. ‘Cousin Annie’ who wrote several of the longest and most interesting letters is still a mystery. Allusions to painting and some kind of exhibition/sale she hoped would be a success made it extremely tempting to believe this to be the Annie L. MERRIAM listed in several censuses and directories as a ‘painter’ and ‘crayon artist’ in Somerville, Massachusetts. The Annie below, however, clearly signs herself as ‘Annie H.’ and wrote from Roxbury; furthermore, she mentions ‘Frank’s room,’ and there is no indication whatever that the Annie MERRIAM of the censuses had anyone living with her at any period.
UPDATE!
As you may have seen from my home page, these letters DID help me find Henry COFFIN’s parents! The Alvena mentioned below turned out to be Alvena (COFFIN) ALEXANDER, daughter of Deacon Ambrose Snow COFFIN and Sarah Dyer SAWYER. Since she is always referred to as ‘Aunt,’ she was presumably Henry’s younger sister! Their sister signing herself ‘Jain’ is somewhat perplexing; I think there is a strong likelihood her real name was Sarah A. (COFFIN) LEWIS, wife of Charles and mother of Frank, of Waterville, Maine. Perhaps ‘Jain’ was a nickname?
Waltham Sept. 16, 1900
My dear Alice:--
I am glad
to tell you about Aunt Sarah. She was
very dear to me, and I shall miss her very much. I don’t think she has been well since your mother came to Waltham
to visit me with Aunt Sarah and I was not at home, and one of the
neighbors girls went with them over to
my brothers and walked which was a long one, and Aunt Sarah seemed
exhausted when she got there, and I do not think she has been well
since. Your mother will remember it, I
am sure. She failed very gradually at
first, and then went rapidly. She was
in bed only two weeks. I saw her two
weeks before she passed away, she knew me at times and always called me Sarah,
and at one time she asked for Mr. Seabury, but I think she had forgotten my
girls entirely, for she thought I had four little boys, and after a while
forgot them. I should have been to see
her after that, but I was taken sick and was not able to go to see her. Bert thinks she knew him after she went to
bed and even after the Dr. thought she knew no one. Poor Uncle James, you would pity him, and I never saw anybody as
devoted and kind as he was to her for the last two yours or more that he has
taken care of her. And now he don’t
know hardly what to do. They have not
decided what to do this winter. They
have a nice housekeeper that was as kind to Aunt Sarah as a daughter would have
been. Bert is very much comforted that
his mother passed away so peacefully, went to sleep and passed into the other
world so quietly. She looked
beautifully, she had a smile on her face and looked as I have seen her hundreds
of times when she saw something funny or was pleased with some thing that
someone had said. She was dressed in a
black lace waist and was in a black casket, and was laid in Forest Hills. It was a very hot day and it was 18
miles from Lexington. Uncle James,
Bert, Mrs. Parker and myself were in the first carriage. The flowers were beautiful. A beautiful cluster of deep purple asters on
the bill. Bert wanted everything as bright
as it could be. Her old friends were
there, Mrs. Campbell, Dell Leighton, Mr. & Mrs. Blaisdell, Mrs. Hadley
& daughter and all the old friends that you would remember. Mr. Eliot of the chapel and Mr. Staples
conducted the services, and at a quartet which was fine. Poor Uncle James would go and lay his hand
on her forehead and look so sad. They
had been married 46 years. It is a long
time to live together as happily as they have.
I was there one day when the Dr. was there and he said it was hardening
and then softening of the brain. I was
there some time in the early summer or spring and she hunted & hunted for
your last letter, to read to me. She
always read them to me and was so pleased to do so, and to show me the pictures
of all your families and never tired of talking about you all. She nor Uncle James could find it. Uncle James said she put things away and hid
them so they could never find hardly any thing. I was there I think in the early summer and she begged for me to
take her home with me. But she did not
know me, and after I had gone she asked Uncle James who that great & grand
lady was, and she could not believe it was me, but when I went in about two
weeks after, she remembered what she had said to me, and said she did not know
me. I thought that was strange. Some times you could not help but laugh at
her funny sayings, and then you could cry it was so sad. Give ever so much love to your Mother, and I
would like to see her so much. We are
all about as usual. Mr. Seabury is very
feeble, gave up business a year ago, and only goes out on the piazza. Grace is teaching school, and Marion helps
me and sings in church, so you see we are all occupied. I hope you will write to me once in a while
so I can hear how you all are. Mrs. Parker
(Clara Webster) was at Lexing[ton] about two weeks and was a great help as Bert
was obliged to be in N. Y. on business.
I believe I have told you all. I
dined with Bert and his father last Sunday, and it seemed as though I must
see Aunt.
Love to all,
Sarah Seabury
[Postmarked Roxbury Station, Oct 29, 1900, 4 p.m.]
Roxbury, Oct. 26th, 1900
My dear cousin Alice, {10:30 p.m.}
With real sorrow in my heart I read your sad letter today and feel a reply is called for immediately. My heart in all sympathy is with you. Little did I know what trouble you was all in. I pity you all and wish I could help you. Poor dear little Margie what a loss for her & her little brood. Of course she does not begin to realize her situation as her husband was taken so suddenly. I cannot keep you all out of my mind a minute. It’s the saddest news I have had for many a long day. I wonder where she will go and what she will do, but in her trouble how fortunate she is in having such a mother, and only one in a thousand to have such a sister as you are, a mother also to her, & Harrie too will be so kind & thoughtful, will help her & look out for her interest. Then David is so kind hearted and good. He too is just the same as an own brother, so she is far from being alone & obliged to provide everything. But even with all these loving hearts and willing hands they are helpless to give back to her her husband & support and the question keep coming to me, what will poor little Margie do and all that little family to care for. Alice dear, it is dreadful. Then too I am worrying to know if she will have pneumonia and little Dorothy poor child. I hope the water is pure & all right you are using. Oftentimes typhoid fever is caused by impure water. Would not it be well to have it thoroughly investigated?
I am really in no condition to write now. I have had company all the evening, staid until 9:30, and while they were here I felt no interest in their company for I had you all before me and wondering what you would do. But if it is not out of place, let me add this much even if I have to finish later on. Don’t you think it was really Providential my western trip was postponed? Supposing I had gone, I should been there in all your trouble and how very unfortunate it would have been. I had had a very strong forewarning of something that was dark and wondered what it was. First I thought, if it came at all it would befall me. But later on I got the news of brother Ned’s sickness & flew out there only to be told by the doctor he was very dangerously ill. Then I felt that was where my warning came in. Still I felt such a desire to go that I had told my landlord I should be out by the middle of Sept. or very latest Oct.1st. I began to pack some things, destroyed a number & still the gloom settled down harder and blacker than ever. I kept thinking to myself what should I do. I was nearly crazed by the awful spell that clung to me. I had a friend visiting me for about ten days & I told her my mind was in an awful state. I believed I would soon get awful news. She laughed at me and said I only felt a bit blue. "Put on your hat & go a while. You will feel better." But it made no difference. I was growing worse all the while and in a few days she went home. She had not been gone long before I felt I should hear from you. I thought some of you were sick and now in looking back I sensed Margie’s husbands sickness and death as it all happened, while my friend was here—isn’t it strange? And it is not the first time I have had forewarnings either. I thought I would mention it right here as it came to me so strong.
I don’t know what to say or how to express to you one and all my sincere sympathy for it seems to me it is such an awful shock. And I wonder where the end will be. When the first link is broken life never seems quite the same. The vacant chair or place never quite filled. Life is never the same. We see life in an entirely new & different light; Margie is to young, unaccustomed to sorrow, to be left with six little helpless children. I don’t know how she can bear it or stand it. As time goes on she will miss him more & more, but what would she do if she had not got you all to fly to in her anguish.
I guess Aunt Lu & Hattie will feel bad enough. It will be as much of a surprise to them as it was to me.
Good night dear and don’t get sick. When one is all nerved up and anxious and then take cold it usually ends in sickness, so do pray take a little rest to yourself as so much always depends on you.
I shall be worried to death until I hear from you for fear you will give out under the strain and David’s mind is so overtaxed he may not notice you are going beyond your strength. You have him and dear little Louise to live for & depend on you [to] say nothing of your mother. So believe dear, do take good care of yourself—the very name of pneumonia is enough to kill a body, even if they are only a little sick.
Sunday Evening
I have been busy all day as usual. I have my little front-side room all cleaned & Franks room, my kitchen closet and kitchen. Now this week I am in hopes to clean my front room & middle room, then finish by degrees the rest later on, as my time is limited. I want to paint this coming Friday, preparing for my sale to come off the middle or last of November if I can accomplish as much. Hattie knows how my rooms are situated so she can keep the inside track of what’s going on. I do wish you all could be here to see my table. I am in hopes it will be a success as I trust it may be my last.
Mrs. Somers has returned from Europe. Have not seen her or Frank. Aunt Abbie told me Eddie Whall is getting well fast (at home).
I keep think about you all last night. I was wondering if Margie would not go back to her own home, as you are not used to much noise and confusion. Should not you think it would be better all round & have a man’s wife to take charge of things. It will upset you so much to have so many and so much more to do. I don’t want to suggest anything unpleasant, but am so afraid you will give out on your mother & David too, poor man. Dear me, you have every bit of my sympathy & wish it would avail you much. Lots of loving sympathy to dear little Margie. Tell her it’s those that have rendered up a (good & trusting husband) are the ones that know how to pity & understand it all. She has my sincere love & sympathy in her trouble. May God in His Infinite Mercy give her strength & health to bear it all. Much love dear Alice to your mother & David & Harrie & to your dear girl the same wish. Heaven’s blessing.
Lovingly cousin,
Annie H.
Monday 3 p.m.
Going to office so will mail letter and paper. Hope you are all real well and having fine weather. It has rained here since Friday night and looks & feels gloomy enough. Don’t let anything happen to David. Keep well for mercy sake.
Cousin Annie
[Postmarked Jamaica Plain Station, Oct. 27, 1900, 4:30 p.m.]
My dear Alice,
I just received your letter telling of Mr. Anderson’s death and I hasten to tell you how sorry I am for you all, and especially for poor little Margie. I never can think of her in any way but as a girl, and she seems so young to have had such a great sorrow come into her life. How hard it is for her, and for you all. He must have been thought a great deal of, to have so many friends, and he must be greatly mourned.
I suppose Margie is so ill she hardly realizes what has happened, though that may have made her worse. But she is certainly fortunate in having such a mother and sister with her in her trouble and I don’t know what she would do without you.
I hope to hear that she is better when you write next. And with a great deal of love and sympathy for her from all of us, and hoping you will all keep well, with love to Aunt Hattie and yourself, thanking you for writing about it, I remain,
With love,
Susie
P.S. Please extend our sympathy to your husband, for it must be a great sorrow for him.
Ac???? Octr. 30th, 1900
Dear Friends,
We rec’d your letter, with the sad news of Alexes death. You have all our sincerest sympathy in the sad loss of one who was so beloved by you all. Margie and the bairns am sure will be well provided for and hope the mother will be restored to health again to raise the dear fatherless children. If ever there was an honest, sincere and kind man, Alex was one. Every one spake well of him and not an enemy.
Please advise us of Margie’s condition, as we will be very anxious to hear how you all are.
With kindest regards from all,
Your Ac??? Friends,
W & Ida Wilson & Sadie
Waterville, Nov 1st, 1900
My dear Alice,
Your letter received telling the sad news of the death of Margie’s husband. So terrible. Poor little Margie. My heart aches for her. I cannot keep her out of my mind, sick in bed, too. Is she conscious or delirious? Oh so hard to lose a loved one, Alice. And so many little ones. I’m afraid her fever will go hard with her if she realizes her trouble & loss. We all feel deeply for her and you all. How can you get along with so many little ones. Poor dear. Be as careful of yourself as you can be, but that is easier said than done. How is your mother? I hope Margie will rally from that terrible fever. Your husband must feel the loss of his brother. They have been together so long. Well then I cannot keep you out of my mind. I never dreamed of such news as this. I want to hear. If you can, will you send a postal? I feel awfully bad.
Poor Frank does not gain as far as head and eyes are concerned. He picked up a bit while Aunt Alvena was here for she tended right out on him. And we went down to see Aunt B??. Stopped a week. Frank seemed to enjoy the trip and the excitement of it seemed to brace him up a bit. But now he is all down, does not get to sleep till six or seven o’clock in the morning and I am about worn out—and I have had a bad siege of it for the past year and I am dreading winter. So Uncle Charlie isn’t feeling well at all. Has indigestion and quite a bad cough, not only a cold. So things seem dreary and discouraging. Aunt Alvena’s knee gave out while here, and since she has been at home she has been in bed. Her Dr calls it water on the knee. Dear me, I hope she will get well and be all right. She will hear the sad news, for I have written to her about it. Poor Margie! She must be heart-broken.
I’m not good for anything, lame in every part of my body, from so many steps to take. I get all worn out. I cannot stand to do anything but get along the best I can. Charlie is good to help all he can, but he gets so tired. Oh Alice, I do want to see you so badly if I only could see you and I want to see dear Hattie too. Such a little visit she made. Hardly got our wits together and they were gone. But I’m so glad they have been here. Harry & David too. Oh so glad. I wish you all could come again. Tell me you will come, Alice—With oh so much love and sympathy for you all, from us all, I must say good bye. Poor little Margie, Aunt Jain pities her so. And you all. Love to Harry and family.
Yours lovingly,
Aunt Jain
with a line
[Postmarked Jamaica Plain Station, Nov. 3, 1900, 12:30 p.m.]
370 Arborway
Jamaica Plain
Nov. 2, 1900
My dear Hattie,
We were all so sad to hear the news from your home, a great loss to you all. Poor little Margie. I have always looked upon her as a little child, and now, to be left alone as it were, with the care of five little ones. I cannot realize it. Of course she has sympathy and kindness of each member of the family, but no one can fill the place of husband and father. Hope by this time Margie is quite well and all the children in health. Please write me about each one, so that I may know them. I now only feel I know the second girl. I always call her little Margie, she looks just as her mother did the last time I saw her. The summer was very hot everywhere. The girls, Ed and myself were in New Brunswick, so escaped most of the heat. Carrie and Ed went a month before I went with Nan. Edward came down once while I was there. He was busy building, could not stay. Ray only had two weeks vacation, Ralph, [who] was helping his Uncle Edward, was down for one week. We all got through the hot summer, feel quite well and strong now. Today is lovely, just like summer, concerts, clubs and in fact, every thing has commenced, so the girls’ time is all taken up. Have just finished house cleaning. Of course, you all have your hands full. Write me often, as I feel interest to know just how you are getting on. Wish I could step in and see you all. Rest assured you have our deepest sympathy. Do let me know from time to time how you are getting on. With love and best wishes for each one, very much for yourself,
Carrie
[Postmarked Nov. 10, 1900, 4 p.m.]
Ord, Neb.
Nov. 9-1900
Mr. D.E. Anderson, Burwell, Neb.
Friend Anderson,
Your letter informing me of the death of your brother was received.
I was truly sorry to learn of the death of one whom I held in so high esteem as a friend and citizen. The loss of one so near and dear is indeed a great trial; yet we have for our consolation the hope that we will one day meet again in a better and happier world.
Our best wishes and kindliest memories are with yourself and family. And trust that Mrs. Anderson will soon recover from her illness.
Yours Sincerely,
Mr. And Mrs. J. W. Gregory
Roxbury, Nov. 11th, 1900
My own dear little cousin Alice,
I rec’d such a sad, sad letter yesterday morning from you I hardly know what to say. After the news of Alex, and as you said Margie had had a chill, I was then fearful of pneumonia but would not all myself to think of it. Aunt Hattie has just gone from here. It’s the first time I have seen her for over (two months) I read your letters to her and she was as much shocked as I was, the last words were as she went out was—give my love to them & I only wish they lived nearer so we could help them. She feels as I do that it is a dreadful thing. I thought when her husband died it was bad as it could be & now to have her taken--it’s just a little too much & I wonder what you will do, poor little Margie. I wonder if she had any idea what her sickness was or if she knew she would not recover. I cannot tell you how hard my heart aches for you all. It has made me almost sick—I am so powerless to do too on account of the distance between us and I feel if I was near I might aid you if only a little. All I can seem to do is in a feeble way express to you my full sympathy and that is so little to offer is do the awful news as unfitted me altogether for any one thing. I thought when you wrote of Alex death could anything been worse and now to have Margie taken it is really unbearable. Poor child she suffered mentally as much as physically. Undoubtedly her life was a short one indeed I hope and trust you will all be repaid for the love and kindness you always have shown to both of them. I cannot realize her death at all. I have painted in my (mind) such bright pictures of your houses and lives and now come to take two out of one of the hardest places to fill in (the children I mean). Why Alice I am nearly sick myself. You did not say anything about little Dorothy so I feel she must be better and I sincerely hope she is. Aunt Hattie asked me how old Margie was. I told her I thought she might be 27 or 28 but did not know but when I thought of her six little ones later on I supposed she must be older than that. Poor girl. She has got through early at any rate and yet it would not be well to wish her back. I cannot realize at all what I have here written. I can’t write—I am completely broken up. As I sit writing I have the picture you sent me long ago. I guess it was before you was each of you married. Hattie, Margie & yourself in it—you have a b??y’s in your hands. I have looked at under the magnifying glass so many times yet cannot bear in mind I shall never see her agin. Last night I read your to one of my (opposite neighbors) of long ago when I lived in Marcella St. & showed them the picture. I only a few days after David’s brother died I told them of your misfortune & they were exceedingly sorry for you both. I hope to hear sson as you feel any heart or courage so to do, as I want to know just how you are getting along and about the children—do I understand Margie died in her own home, or with you? How is your mother and David?
Alice dear I have no news and I have no heart to write what little I have written does not amount to anything but I felt you ought to know how sad we all feel for you all. Frank can’t get through talking about it. He feels real bad. You know he is big-hearted and sincere, means what he says—
Aunt Hattie says (Joe Gardner) (Hattie Gibsons) husband is very sick—hardly think he will live the winter through (enlargement of the heart).
_________________________________________________________________
It looks like snow so I will mail this now & it will get an early start—Love to Hattie dear. Tell her to try to be brave for the little ones sake as well as yours and her own. I know it is a hard & heavy cross to bear, but perhaps the reward will come in the crown she will yet wear. Love to Harrie and David too, with best wishes and sincere sympathy: To you dear Alice a kind devoted mother, sister, wife & daughter, God’s own blessing with a rich reward on earth and in heaven. You cannot go unrewarded—Margie knew her friends were tried & true, but she realizes them better now. Good night dearest Alice.
Lovingly cousin,
Annie
[Postmarked Boston, Nov. 11, 1900, 5:30 p.m.]
My dear Alice,
Sue being away from home, I have opened your letter, which has just arrived, for as far as you all are concerned, our interests are the same. I cannot begin to tell you how shocked I am at Margie’s death and how much I sympathize with you all. Of course I cannot realize that she grew up and married and to me she will always seem a little girl. And now she has gone, to wait what will be a very short time to her, until those she loved so much join her. How thankful you must be that she was with you. How does dear Aunt Hattie stand all this. I hope she is as well as when she was here. It was such a pleasure to us all that she came. Is it possible that Margie had six children? Or did I read it wrongly? What will you do with them all. I know that you will do anything that is wise and kind, but it is so hard to know just what is best. I thought there were only three. How you will miss her and her husband, you were all so much together. Aunt Hattie said that he was always bright and happy and the world needs all it can have of such people. Sue is in New York. Last Sunday we had a telegram from Aunt Rose saying that her husband had died suddenly and asking Sue to come. So she went on the next day, reasoning that it was what Morton would have done. Aunt Rose is sick a great deal and had no one to help her except the Middletons. So Sue went and did every thing she could for her. I expect her home sometime next week. Aunt Rose has two sons, as you know, who will do what they can for her. But Fred is married and Warren is only eighteen. I am afraid it is going to be hard for her as Mr. Brown did not leave anything, tho’ at one time they were quite well to do. I wish I could do something for her and to help you out as to Margie’s children. I may be able to later, but at present, McKinley prosperity hasn’t touched us, real estate being the last thing to come up. But it looks better than it did, and if things turn out well, I should regard it as a privilege to be able to do my little if you needed it. Do let me know what you are going to do and how you all are, especially Aunt Hattie. Your letters are always interesting and we are glad to know anything that you will tell us. I am so sorry for you all, Alice. It seems to me that this is the hardest time that you have had. Sue will write you just as soon as she gets home. I shall not send the letter to her as she is going through so much with Aunt Rose. I am so thankful that Margie passed away unconscious of suffering and of the pain of parting. There is something to be thankful for in that blessing. With love to you all
Your affectionate Cousin,
Elmer
Nov. 10th, 1900
[Postmarked Boston, Nov. 12, 1900, 12:30 p.m.]
Dear Aunt Hattie,
I cannot begin to tell you how much we all sympathize with you in your sorrow. It seems as if you had almost too much to bear. When we heard of the death of Margie’s husband, we were very much shocked. And now poor little Margie herself has left you. I always think of her as the child I last saw so many years ago. And it is difficult to realise that she has left six little ones to grow up without her care. What will they all do? It is so sad for them and for you too, dear Aunt Hattie. You must all have been so happy out there together. And now to think of one of those homes broken up. It almost seems as though Margie could not stay here without her husband. She found him so soon.
Poor Aunt Rose is sadly afflicted too, in the loss of her husband and I am so sorry for her. Sue wrote he died very suddenly, but until she gets home we shall not know the particulars.
I wish I could see you and tell you how much I feel for you. For writing is so unsatisfactory. But I want at least to tell you that you have my heartfelt sympathy and love. You and Alice, both. You must be careful and not do too much and so get run down. For you and Alice must have had a great deal of care and worry the last few weeks and you must have so much to think about and plan for now. I wish I were there to help you.
With much love and with many thoughts of you all in these your dark days.
Yours affectionately,
Edith
November 12, 1900
Jamaica Plain
Nov. 12th, 1900
My Dear Alice:--
Your very sad note of Nov. 6th received Saturday and really there are no words that can express to you and the rest of the family how very sad our hearts are for you all. It always seems as if you all were a part of our family. We thought so much of each other and I see by your writing so soon that you still continue to do so. Now dear Alice, we all send much love and sympathy and only wish we were near enough to run in and see you all.
We thought our own sorrow very great, almost unbearable, but the thought of Mother and father taken so suddenly and so many little ones left, it really is too sad for anything.
Dear little Margie.
I am glad as you say “that she did not realize her suffering” and the parting but we know the children will be well cared with so loving a grandmother, aunt and uncles. How nice you and Margie married brothers, as the children will seem so very near to you both. I do hope some time in the future, when you get the time and are more rested than at present, you will write me how you have planned to divide the family, as I presume you and Harry will take them into your families, also their names and ages if this is not too much to ask. We cannot imagine dear little Margie as having such a large family. I think when your mother was here she had four. Just think it was March. I had such sad news for you and little did we think you would have it repeated doubly in your family so soon. It really is too sad for anything and right here let me thank you for that nice note of sympathy. I have been meaning to write you ever since. Dear Henry was only confined to his bed two weeks, although he had been failing quite a little the past year. Seven years ago he had the grippe and it left him very poorly. He had bronchitis and asthma ever afterwards, and was take with the Grippe this last sickness and went into consumption. He suffered a good deal during the two weeks but he passed away very quietly. He left a wife and little boy Chester, 9 yrs. Old, the 7th of Oct. His wife will continue housekeeping just the same. She has her mother with her.
We are all quite well at the present, except Addie is troubled with the rheumatism in her knees and mother has a lame arm. We were all poorly after dead Henry’s death and had the Dr. several weeks, but hope to be better now.
I do hope your health will be good for the extra work thrown upon you. I shall write the boys as they are always so interested in you all and you know their sympathy will be with you all. Especially your dear mother. It must be very hard for her as Margie was the baby of the family and as I understand it rather delicate. But of course her dear children will help take up her mind. Now with the best love and sympathy of all the Wetherbee family, to each and all of your families, I remain as ever very truly your friend
E. A. Wetherbee
10 Biltmore St.
J.P.
Mr. Partridge and Cora called Saturday afternoon and wanted to be remember to all with love and sympathy.
A.
[Postmarked Bangor & Bos. R. P. O. Nov. 13]
Waterville, Nov. 13th, 1900
My dear Alice and Hattie,
Our hearts were made very sad to learn of the death of dear little Margie. I cannot realize that she too has gone. And my heart turns now to the living with such sorrow in your poor hearts. Oh it is hard. Nothing so terrible to me as death. They were not separated long were they. I suppose the children are too young to realize their loss, the younger ones especially. Dorothy and Merriam are quite little girls but I do not know their ages. I hope you and Mother won’t get sick. I worry much about you. Your family is pretty large now and children make a lot of steps. Poor little fatherless and motherless ones, how I pity them. Poor Margie. It must have been so nice for her to be with you. I cannot write much for my head is trembling not a little. I lie awake so much worrying for poor Frank is so bad he lies awake all night long getting to sleep between six and seven. Sometimes I feel afraid he will never be any better, such a terrible day as he had yesterday. I thought I would go crazy—Has Harry’s wife gotten over her sickness? How often you are all in my thoughts. How often we speak of you and we all think so much of you all.
Has your mother gotten a letter from Aunt Alvena? She wrote she was going to write. She has been sick in bed ever since she got home from here, having a bad time with her knee, going on five weeks. When here, she was always talking of writing to you and Hattie, but she does hate to write so and so keeps putting it off. She will feel badly to know of Margie’s death. I sent your letters to her to read. She will send them back to me. She was so anxious to hear about Margie and so shocked to hear of her husband’s death. She wrote she hoped poor Margie would live.
Write me a line won’t you. I feel so anxious about you and Hattie. It’s hard for you all, your husband to lose a dear brother and you and Harry to lose a loved sister, and dear Hattie her youngest, her baby. Oh, it’s hard. We all send so much love and sympathy to you all. How is little Louise? I hope you won’t get sick any of you. Be careful won’t you and take the best care of yourselves.
Your loving Aunt Jain and Uncle Charlie
[Postmarked Brooklyn, NY, Nov. 13 1900, 5 p.m.]
My dear Hattie,
Jaine wrote me a few days a go of the sad loss of Margie’s husband and also of her illness. And last night was very much shocked to hear of her death. I can not tell you how very very sorry we feel for you all. And such a dreadful disease too. I know what it is, for not long a go Blanche had an attack of it. So I can sympathise with what you have gone through. I have thought of you all so often and have intended writing. And now that this great loss has come for you to bear, I felt that I wanted you to know how much I feel for you all. And to think of leaving all those dear little children, it does seem so sad. I came home from Jaine’s just five weeks a go, and have not taken a step in all that time. I fell while down there, which caused water on the knee. It is such a long tedious thing to get over. But I am improving slowly now, so feel quite encouraged. Well, Hattie, do write to me soon and let me know how you are all getting on. Blanche and Gussie join me in sympathy and love to you all.
Yours lovingly,
Alvena
Tuesday, November thirteenth
[Postmarked Jamaica Plain Station, Nov. 14, 1900, 7:30 p.m.]
Arborway
Nov. 14, 1900
My dear Hattie,
It really was a great shock to us all to hear of Margie’s death, Uncle Edward said when you wrote telling of Mr. Anderson’s death and also that Margie was ill that he feared Margie would hardly escape the same sickness. To think of those six little ones is so sad. I cannot get it off my mind. Please write me the name and age of each one. I knew there were five of Margie’s children, but cannot place the sixth one. Give me a description of each one, as I wish to feel acquainted with them all. I now know the two oldest girls in a way, but cannot see any of them distinctly, as I would like to. I shall send you a barrel by Thanksgiving I hope. Am sorry I cannot see you all, distance is so great, but we will write often, so I can know just how you are getting on in every way. Write me freely, please. You will certainly have my sympathy. I shall feel interested in all you do. The farm must be of some value, having a house on it, quite a comfortable home for some one. It is much easier to bring up children in the West than here, where there are so many temptations. We are having pleasant, sunny days but they are so short. Shall write you when I send the barrel, so you can be looking for it. After my next letter will get it off as soon as I can. There may be some useful things in it for winter. My friend Mrs. Murdock will not come to Boston this year. Has gone to British Columbia for the winter with friends. We are all quite well, busy as usual. I was in Boston yesterday. The weather is quite cool, but not severely cold. We had a slight flurry of snow last week, which did not cover the ground. Hope this will find you all well. Try and rest as much as you all can. With ever so much love.
Carrie
P.S. Please write soon, love to all
Carrie
[Postmarked Patterson, NY, Nov. 15, 1900, 7 p.m.]
Locust Glen 11th Mo. 11th 1890 [sic—should be ‘1900’]
D Anderson & Family
Dear Friends,
It would be difficult for me to express in words the deep sympathy we all felt for you when we received the letter from Alice telling of the loss of your brother and our esteemed friend Alexander.
Two or three members of our family were impressed with serious forebodings of the welfare of David for a couple of weeks before the letter came, and you were often the subject of conversation at our family gathering at meal time, but it did not occur to us that Alice & family were the real sufferers and you the sympathising alleviators to the full extent of your mental and physical abilities. When Irving brought the letter home we were all outside except Phebe. Handing it to her he said "a letter from Alice." She said "Oh, Irving! It seems to me that they are in trouble. I fear to open it." But it was soon opened and the sad information it contained quickly made known to the rest of our family.
That evening little could be thought of or talked about except the trying ordeal you had passed through and were still undergoing by the anxiety you felt for the welfare of the sick ones under your care. I thought to write to you very soon when the first letter came, but felt assured that you would realize our deep silent sympathy in this trying time that has come to you. We all had serious doubts of Alex wife ever getting any better, and these were confirmed when the second letter came from A- telling of their short separation in this world.
But perhaps ere this they are united in spirit, in that future life to which every passing moment brings us nearer. I think it seldom happens that husband & wife lose a brother & sister within so short a time, that have been so intimately associated for as long a time before and after marriage as you have been, so but few can fully understand how many tender cords have been broken, and how largely the vacancy created in a brothers and sisters home will be realized in your own. We hope that you will not be impaired in health by the severe mental and physical strain occasioned by the events of the past few weeks, and that you will be enabled to have health and strength sufficient to contend successfully with the added cares and responsibilities that will devolve upon you until some arrangement is made for Brother’s and Sister’s children. We shall feel very anxious about you and the children until we hear that you are all in fairly good health. With those not very strong physically it often takes some time to regain their normal condition after passing through such trying ordeals as have come to you.
Phebe had a longer trial with Hay Fever this fall than usual, owing to the lateness of frost and was more reduced in strength which she regains very slowly; [she] has been about the house nearly three weeks, but gets tired with every little extra exertion or excitement. Daniel & Charles have not felt quite as well this fall as usual, both have had to give up doing their usual work for a few days, C- first and when he got better D- was taken very much in the same way; and is just beginning to get up and do light work now, but is not feeling at all well. We have had a very warm and dry summer and fall with an occasional sudden change to cold for two or three days at a time.
We appreciate the many letters and gifts received that have not been acknowledged, but will write of them and other things another time. All join in sympathy and love, truly
S. H. Gerow
[enclosed sheet]
Oh friends, dear friends, we think of you through the day and dream of you while we sleep; fearing least [sic] you fail to gain rest and give care to yourselves. You who are so needful to your bereaved mother, your cherished child, and the helpless orphaned ones who are almost your own. You who are moving under the shadow of a great, solemn change, a change that has brought to you such sorrow as you had never know before. Your journey through this present life now seems to you strangely drear, but its continuance will be a comfort and a blessing to those who may still be left to share it.
Samuel’s letter, written several days ago, has been waiting for some one to find time to go to Patterson. Irving goes this morning and is nearly ready.
In the love that is ever with you, farewell.
Locust Glen, Eleventh month 15 – 1900
[Postmarked Waltham, Dec. 10, 1900, 7 a.m.]
Waltham Dec. 9, 1900
My dear Alice:-
We mourn with you. I was shocked when I received word from Bert of your great loss. It seems terrible to me for those dear little children to lose both father and Mother. What will become of them; can you keep them all? I wish you could, but of course you could not take six. Are there any little boys? All I seem to remember is little Merriam. I never can think of Margie as only the shy little girl that would stand beside her Mother. I can see her now in my mind standing by he Mother’s side with her long curls and her hair was beautiful. How old was Margie? How I sympathize with your dear Mother, for I know something about giving up a loved child, an infant. But when one is grown up and has so much to live for, it seems terrible. Her sorrow is great. I cannot understand God’s ways, why that little mother was taken, and had so much work to do for the dear babies.
You must be all tired out. Mr. Seabury is slowly failing. He cannot walk without help now, as he had a fall which has made him very lame. Grace is teaching and seems very well, except a little tired, as it is almost the end of the term. Marian is our right hand man, she can do so much for her father. She is singing in church, and does most of the cooking and her time is about all occupied. I have to go to bed every once in two or three months for a week to rest. I don’t think I am good for much. Dr. says nothing ails me, but I need rest. I went to Lexington a week ago yesterday and found Uncle James very nicely, and Bert had gone to N.Y. They have a life size picture of Aunt Sarah, which I think is the finest picture I ever saw. She looks so handsome. It is beautiful. Do let me hear from you as often as you feel you can spare time to write. I shall always feel interested in the dear children, and your Louise. Give ever so much love to your Mother and Harry, and Remember me to your husband. I feel that I know him. I have heard Aunt Sarah speak of him in such high terms. With love, and sympathy from all,
Sarah Seabury
Jan 12 – 1901
Dear Alice,
How my heart goes out to you. Your letter was the most heart breaking one I have received for a long time, and I was so shocked also, as I had not heard a word of it. I don’t see how you are ever going to be able to care for so many, but I think strength is usually given to us at such times and I am sure I hope it will be to you and husband. Poor things. What would they do without you. And what a sad death your sister’s was. Wish I was near you so I could help you on the sewing anyway. How hard is for your Mother Also. I don’t remember how many children your sister-in-law had. Twins will be quite a care, I should think, but nothing to what you have. I am sorry you are not strong and have headaches. I have them very seldom now-a-days. And am actually gaining, for I weigh 108 ½ pounds more than I ever did. I commenced to gain while I was away. How I did enjoy it and seeing old friends. I shall be very much pleased to get your pictures. How sad for Mabel Cornwall to lose her husband so soon after being married and in that way. Small Pox seems to be raging in small towns out West. Mrs. Wells happened in on me last Monday on her way to her Mother Wells’. They broke up housekeeping last September and Mrs. Wells went to her son. The son wrote to Mrs. Munde [?] that she had paralysis and could hardly talk, so Mrs. Wells packed up and came right on and had a few hours here, so we made the most of it. She is going to stop on her way home. Her mother knew here, she writes, but would forget in the middle of a sentence what she was saying. Mrs. Wells will stay till she is better or a change comes. It will be hard to see her live in that condition. Now my dear girl you have my sister’s sympathy and wish I could do something to help you. If there is let me know. I am so glad you had that pleasant trip in the Fall. You will have that to think of. Such things do one so much good. Write whenever and never mind a pencil. Only to glad to hear. Remember me to your husband & mother. Your loving friend,
Anna Newsmen [?]
Here is a short paper written by young Margaret Josephine COFFIN, containing her memories of her hometown. It must have been done in the early 1880s in Colfax County, Nebraska, whither they had removed in about 1876.
Composition about Boston
Boston is a large and beautiful city. There are a great many stores in it and a large Common. I liked to go acrost it in summer there were so many large shade trees and a beautiful Pond with a fountain in the center. Around the Pond is seats for people to sit upon. In warm weather they have music and Punch and Judy. West of the Pond is the soldiers monument. I rember going to see it and thought it was very beautiful. Just acrost the street was the Public Garden, and in the summer it has beautiful gardens filled with choice flowers of all kinds. It also has several fountains. There is a large Pond that has summer velocipede boats for five cents you can have a nice sail around the Pond. There are a great many swans on the Pond. The children would feed them from the bank. Boston also has a great many beautiful Parks and Churches, a natural history building and a Public Library. We lived in the suburbs three miles from the business part called Jamaica Plain.
Margie
173 words