July 22, 1882.
My darling Carrie,
I was so pleased to receive your good long letter last evening altho’ you might not credit it if I should tell you that I got it from the office at half past seven and did not read it until after eleven. But as I was coming up from the office I met Fred Dawson and he stayed quite late. Yesterday I went up to [Wa...iet?] with him. It takes three quarters of an hour to go with a fair wind but we were two hours and a half going and two
Many thanks for the [...]. I was terribly excited about it as you may imagine. There is a chance that Sylvester may not
The fascinator came this noon. I am so pleased with it. Many thanks, my dear. I only hope it may render me fascinating. By the way a [youth?] took me to be [twenty?] seven the other day. I haven’t yet decided whether to regard it as a compliment or the reverse.
I am greatly pleased to come into dear little [...annie’s?] good graces and hope that a [nearer?] ac --
Supper is ready and as I am going rowing at six I must leave this until tomorrow afternoon if I am good and go to church to till morning if I prefer to be a back-slider.
Saturday 12 P.M.
I haven’t heard a word about Mrs. B’s sickness - only the bare unvarnished statement of her death.
I was perfectly amazed at what you wrote about Ella Vassar. I think Susan Colman deserves unlimited praise for keeping her knowledge to herself. I don’t wonder now that she was cynical and sarcastic, and made so
I am a bright lobster color; you would be really ashamed to claim
Do you know the Bicycle is an unknown beast here. The first one has yet to make an appearance. Some of the ancient inhabitants will doubtless be amazed by one of them.
I did have an elegant row last evening. The sun was obscured just enough to be pleasant and the ocean was like a mill-
I heard last night that Laura Glenn is here. I had not seen her round any where and she is usually see-able when she is here. I don’t think the family can have come for she told me they were too poor even to go to Nantucket this summer
I have had several nice letters from [F...lli…?] but the last one I did not answer for a week, as I was almost frantic with the toothache and was at the dentist’s that week. I fear that she had left Colonel [Rawkin’s?] and that it failed to reach her. Not a word have I heard from [Sallie?], and I did
Last week I received the sweetest letter from Miss Drake. I think she is a lovely girl, and I know she is a smart one. Should not be at all surprised if she should be salutatorian of her class as you were in ‘82. Carrie, my dear, I have set my heart on that and if I am disappointed, I don’t know what I shall do. You know yourself that you can do it
In August my Aunt David’s grandson is coming from Chicago to
Do you know Bessie [Wing?] won’t so much as look me. “[...mmy?] [mum?],” as she calls Mabel takes her whole attention and she scarcely cares for her Mother when Mabel is with her.
Did you see my black dress I got at [...hins’?] It is all made and I like
[If?] I don’t hear from Dr. Caldwell by the first of August I am going to send to
Mother, Mabel, and Aunt Mary all send their love. Mother is suffering terribly with rheumatism in her back. She can scarcely walk and can’t stoop the least bit.
I hope your Father will
Would you believe it Fred [Sa…?] left here Saturday/yesterday/morning and wrote to me on the steamer so I got it at night. Should you call that a case of “mash?” I met him four years ago when he was here. His Aunt lives on this street and Mother is intimate with her and also knows his
Mother has called several times and advised me to go to bed, and I am growing sleepy, so I think I must take her advice.
Write very soon to your loving friend,