KITTY BARRY INCOMPLETE UNDATED
BLACKWELL FAMILY
ALICE STONE BLACKWELLJuly -
Dear Kitty,
This week I did not get
your usual letter. I am
so bad a correspondent
myself, or have been for
the last several weeks, that
I have no right to complain
still it makes me a little
nervous, for you have
been so regular I fear
something has happened
to you. By the bye, I have
found out what your Christian name was;
Robert. Robert Kidd. I
like the name Robert
very well, and think I
shall call you so hence
forward. Except in the
matter of correspondence,
I am a most faithful

[*[I] with a red shawl[s over] wrapping his shoulders
below
which
is frost.
Mama
thinks
it is a
sign of
Lager beer.
I think
it the
figure
head of a
ship;*]lover.  Ask Mama if I am not forever making day hideous by a ballad about Captain Kidd, of which I know but one verse, and therefore sing that over and over, proclaiming to the household, that "My name is Captain Kidd As I sailed." 
Aunt Ellen and Aunt Millly's baby are expected to arrive here before very long, but I hardly think they will stay with us, as we are having a bad time with girls, and Mama does not know how to get along with any more people.
I have been in bathing several times and am quite proud of having swum to shore after Papa had 
[*but we call it Captain Kidd, and it is*]


treacherously decoyed me out of my depth, and abandoned me to my fate.
  Aunt Netties book, The Island neighbors, is out in paper covers, and we have a copy.  I have read it, and am now engaged in disputes with the rest of the family as to who the different characters represent. Papa declares that one described as "a staid, care taking child" is Florence, against which I protest, as not being exactly her character; and I have not satisfactorily decided on anyone but Edie, though I much suspect that Margaret, the heroine, is my betrothed. Yet she isn't
 [*joined out to visitors as my husband.*]like you at all in some things. But I protest that Florence is not Anne, for she is not in the least "old fashioned" and not particularly "staid". 
it is not at all a flattering portrait

July 23d.
since writing the first part of this letter, I have got a letter from you, reproaching me so pathetically with my not writing, that I have resolved to amend, and do better henceforward. 
In a day or two I expect to go to West Brookfield on a short visit. They are pulling the old house there all to pieces, and altering right and left.
The Spoffords are

expected to visit us this Summer, and Mama and Papa are discussing how Aunt Ellen, Aunt Emily, the nurse and baby, Florence, Gracie, and the two servant girls we must have to do the work for so many, are to be lodged, besides the various other individuals who have hinted that they would like to come; thirteenth cousins of Mama's, and people who knew Papa forty years ago.
Anna, Aunt Sara, and Emma, who came yesterday are going home tomorrow.
I sympathize in your dress-making and other distresses, and envy you your journey to Cornwall, hope you will enjoy it, and

hence I am sure, but the will call it the pirate.wish I could go with you.
We - that is Papa - have been making currant jelly, with damage of course to clothes and tempers.
Papa is really getting bald to my intense disgust; and he wears eye-glasses, also to my  wrath and dismay; but he is always making fun, and does not seem to care about it a bit. 
My own eyes give me a deal of trouble just now, and any dust or sunlight or reading sets them smarting. I don't think there is any more news, so goodbye. Oh yes, there is. Whenever we ride to Squantum we pass a house, in the yard of which is a wooden figure of a man with a black beard, 
By "they" I mean Papa and Mama. Thy Bride.

August 5. In the barn.
Dear Kitty
This letter is to be principally devoted to an account of our trip to Mount Holyoke, from which we returned yesterday. We started soon after breakfast on August 2, and rode until about dinner time, when we came to ___ Palmer, I think it was, where we had dinner at a hotel. I amused myself on the ride with a sensation story called Man and Wife, which Aunt Emily had brought with her.  When we left that hotel where we had dinner we rode until nearly night, when, after trying several houses we at last prevailed upon some people to take us in for the night. In the morning after breakfast, we started again. Imagine us, if you please, in a large fourseated carriage, Papa and Aunt E. on the front seat, Mama and me on the back, with poor Billy dragging us along. At last we came to the foot of Mount Holyoke, which after long sloping with reasonable gentleness a while, rose in a steep, almost perpendicular pitch 600 feet high. At the foot of this pitch stood a building marked "Feeding Stable", where we left Billy, and another building from which to the Prospect house, on top of the mountain and at the edge of the precipice, extends a long wooden box, with round holes cut in the sides, and several windows at the top. At the bottom where we were was a treadmill, worked by horses, by means of which we 
were drawn up through this wooden box to the top of the mountain.  Look at the beginning where I have tried to make a picture of the box, though it is so blotted I doubt if you can make it out.  I was much scared at the idea of going up this place, on the long steep slant over which the car moved, for when you looked up to the top it seemed so far away! But it had to be done, and down slid a funny little open car with two tiers of seats, each a little higher than the other, and each tier holding two, besides a lower tier for baggage.  We got in; they started up the horses on the treadmill, and after various signals we began to rise. I shut my eyes and clutched Aunt E. while we rode for about five minutes, and then were at the top in the ProspectHouse.  There was a telescope in one room, through which you could see what time it was on a lock away off ever so far.  The view was fine, but hazy, for it was a very hot day.  We had our dinner up there, and while we came down I kept my eyes open, and saw a car of people pass us on its way up.  We started for home, and on the way took a bath in the Connecticut river.  That is Papa and I did.  We stopped for the night at Belchertown. when I dressed in the morning I heard most extraordinary squalls, and thought it must be some unfortunate boy being whipped.  We went over to breakfast at the hotel, where we saw a poll parrot on a perch, and some one said she made that awful noise.  I suppose you have opened my packet; now for mercys sake don't show the ode to any one. I wish I had not told Grace of the $16.00, but it cant be helped now. Please excuse writing, as the white kitten is continually bothering me and climbing into my lap. Goodbye. Alice
P.S.
Write once a week and tell me all the news. 

August 25d West Brookfield.
Dear Kitty
Perhaps you think one of your foreign correspondents very faithless, but she has an excuse.  I wrote you a letter, directed it, and while waiting about stamps, and for some one else to "put in a word" the letter was lost.  I found I can send it, but I am resolved never to wait again for any one to "put in a word, unless there is some prospect of its being done.  There is no news at all. Florence is still at Henrietta I believe. We lead Billy out into the clover field twice a day, as his own pasture is poor in feed, and one of us holdshim while he eats. Yesterday, 
as he ate, I felt a pain 
in the calf of my leg, and 
looking down saw a bumble 
bee stinging me. I brushed 
him off, and came in, but 
the sting swelled up. There 
is a quite a drougth here, and 
the water nearly stopped 
running in the tank. The 
watering trough is also very 
low. Papa is at Rockaway 
with poor Grandma. I am 
gathering small soft feathers 
which the hens shed a great 
many of, to make a pillow 
for the coming baby. Yesterday 
being cool and shady, Maria
and I went off and on an excursion 
to Hemlock hill, 
where you and I went, and 
my cave is. We took our 
dinner and some books and 
papers, and climbing up, sat 
on the rocks above the

cattle trough. Pretty soon
after we got there the cattle
began to come from distant
parts of the pasture to get
water. They came singly and
in companies to the trough,
so that there was a crowd 
of them close beneath us.
The weaker cattle had to wait
till the last, when the others
had drunk the trough about
dry, and one poor beast
sucked at the bottom. I
should think for half an
hour, without getting much,
while another who was waiting
for her to be done, went off
in disgust at being obliged
to wait so long. The old cat
had five kittens, and deserted
them, so that they all had
to be killed. The maltese
kitten which you saw, was
getting very friendly with
Tip, and played with histail when. he wagged it, but
she died; from eating poisoned
flies it is supposed.  The 
white kitten lives and flour-
ishes.. I now do only part of
the work, and get one dollar
a week instead of two. I am 
the possesor of twenty one
dollars, forty two cents, and
feel like a millionaire, 
I am waiting for a letter 
from my foreign correspond
ent, and expect one any 
day, I made a little birch
bark letter case for Mamas
birthday, and intend to do
some more for Christmas
presents. I put fern work 
outside on the front, and 
fasten the pieces of bark
together with bows of green
ribbon. I am at present in
purgatory because of a new

waist, which is too tight but is to be worn 
one . - day on trial. It has already been worn 
one, and did not improve much on acquain-
tance. Mama says it was the petticoat, and 
so I am trying it today without a petticoat. 
Goodbye. Your Betrothed 


Tuesday, December 27th, 
Somerville
Dear Kitty: 
Christmas is over, but I am 
still here, spending a week 
with Florence. She received 
the watch, and winds it 
with great satisfaction every
night. The baby, which I de-
manded to see nearly she 
first thing, is small, not as
ugly as the general run of
babies, with blue eyes, a 
thin coating of light brown
down on a very long head;
long from front to back, I
mean; and cunning little
chin, sticking out suddenly
from its face. About ten
or eleven oclock on Christmas
day Uncle George and AuntEmily arrivedthough some of them Mama wishes to buy at the great They let me hold her once, but she began to howl. pudding on Thanksgiving day, and Beloved Kabby,
I am in a state of great
vexation, having been 
unexpectredly taken out of
school for the present.
Mamma has got it into
her head that my health
is suffering and I having
unluckily caught a cold,
she this morning refused
to let me go in to the city,
and gave me a long lecture
on overwork. I hope to go
back after a week's absence,
and in fact have made
up my mind to raise a
tremendous row if I am
not considered sufficiently
[*for Mamma to "add a line", so there is no
telling when it will go.
I neednt have hurried so. I'll send you
another soon, I mean to that is.
Affy, Alice.'toned up' by that time. Mamma persists that I am limp and very nervous, and losing a little every week, and nothing I say can convince her to the contrary. Mamma is a very obstinate person, when she gets an idea into her head. I have been dosed with ginger tea, (nasty stuff!) which I only got down by drinking your health in it, duly turning toward the east like a pious Mohammedan.
Dec. 13th. I must end this letter in a hurry to send it off in Papa's if I can. This nasty cold still sticks to me, and once in a while I cough 

so long that the tears run down my cheeks and my eyes water. I feel as if I should turn inside out. This is the sixth day I have spent at home, and I am eager to go back to school when I can. I dream of it at night generally. I have got quite skillful at making mustard plasters, and have taken no end of nasty things.
Have you seen in the papers the affair of the Glastonbury cows? Mamma is very indignant and excited about it, and cried a deal, while Papa, who greatly disapproves of MissSmith's course, laughed,
and I took Mamma's
part vigorously, though
I feel no temptation to 
cry about it. You will
read about it in the Woman's
Journal I suppose. I 
have not seen Mamma
so much stirred up
within my memory,
and it is certainly a 
crying shame. In a 
tremendous hurry.
Love to everyone. Have
been trying fro several 
days to write a compo
but that isn't so 
easy with a mustard plaster
on. Papa's letter is to be delayedDear Kitty
Please sent the letter inside to Florence. Annie says the kittens have either got out of the box them selves or else the old cat has taken them out. Please write to me soon. It is raining and I have been spending the afternoon with the Hoopers, reading a story book. It was not raining when I went to school, so I did not wear any ribbons although my shoes were cloth, and my hat and scarf. I did not take any umbrela either and when twelve o'clock came didn't it pour! So I could not go home for my dinner untillafter school and I was quite hungry when I got home. Goodbye; Alice S. Blackwell

P.S. Pleas put Florences letter in an envelope. Alice S.B.

My last letter was from Danvers, where I spent the Sunday with Miss Putnam. The poor little thing has had a hard time of it, & looked sicker than I expected. She had a series of distresses in Phila. - a mild but persistent dysentery which kept her weak as a rat - then loss of voice - then dizzy spells & fainting fits, in which she would drop right over. Once she fainted on the stairs & fell, & thinks she hurt her back, which has troubled her ever since. But these several ailments came consecutively, one down 'tother come on. She never had more than one thing badly at once, she says. Then besides she suffered from lack of sleep.

[* chamber, with the sound of the waves of the Channel in her ears. Dear me, it seems as if I ought to]Once she went without sleep for nine days & nights at a stretch - enough to make any other girl crazy, but she is an exception to all rules. Another time she went eight days & nights without sleep, & had several shorter fits of wakefulness. And she says her sleeplessness didn't make her feel sick, tho' it scared her worse than any of her other symptoms, besides making her look wild-eyed & unnatural. She held out till the end of the term, & then gave up & came home. You heard, didn't you, how the boat was late, & she missed the Sunday morning train to Danvers, & had to spend the day (Christmas) camping in the R.R. station, with nothing to eat but candy & white grapes?

Naturally, she was somewhat used up when she got home, She & the doctor both think that a period of complete rest will put her quite to rights again. Meanwhile she is, as she says, good for nothing, but perfectly comfortable as long as she doesn't try to do anything. She walked over to the P.O. with me Monday morning - would go, despite remonstrances. It is a short walk, but when she got home she had to drop into a chair & stay there, in a state of utter collapse - so pale & so helpless it was pitiful. Yet after dinner she would go to the
 station with me to see me off. I protested, but she promised to lie down all the rest of the afternoon, & I'm sadly afraid she has been lying down perforce ever since.

[* be there! Well, peace be with you all. No need to ask whether Aunt B. was glad to see you!  Good bye. Affy A.S.B.]She professed that she felt ever so
much better for my visit; but
I fear her imprudent walks with
me neutralized any good it may
have done. I've been sending her
seaside novels by post, for her
head isn't in a state to read heavy
things, + the novels of the Danvers
public library are always out.
     We shall watch out
with interest for the first letters
from the other side.  I'm curious
to know whether Gracie proved
a good sailor, + whether the noise
of the engine proved as bad as
you feared from your proximity,
+ whether, if so, you prevailed
upon the purse to give you
another room; + how Grace likes
England, etc. ad lib.
     Washburne spoke at our annual
meeting.  He is preaching at
Leverett, only a few miles from

As soon as the pictures were
taken.  I had to scurry into my
best dress, + then Mr. + Mrs.
Root, + Mrs. Ketchum, of M[?ich?],
+ Mrs. Chandler of Vermont,
arrived to dinner, in the
midst of the snow storm.
The Maine delegates + the
other Vermonters were invited,
but were too much 
used up to come, + the
pleasant faced little woman
from Pa. had to hurry back
on Monday to her school, +
wanted to spend the Sunday
with her friends.  Perhaps 
it was just as well, for
those who did come, with 
Floy + Edith + Ethel + ourselves
made a large table full; + in

then in opposition to Mr. Avery, + Floy saying nothing.  I didn't 
care.  After you have been case-hardened by a course under Prof. Bowne, all
that pseudoscientific talk slides off you like water off athe middle of dinner in 
walked Mr. Avery, smiling,
& reeking with tobacco as 
usual. He & Papa are practising
their diabolisms in 
the kitchen now. Mr. 
Avery this afternoon propounded 
a lot of his most atrocious 
theories before Mr. Root, who 
is a gentle person, [gr] given 
to peace & sweet reasonableness, 
& whose hair I thought 
I saw rising visibly while 
Mr. Avery expatiated on the 
advantages of lynch law, & 
military slaughter as a check on population.
The delegates have gone 
now, & a great peace has 
settled down upon the 
house. Flo has enjoyed 
her visit, & chatted a great 

deal with her sisters. I feel 
as if I hadn't seen much of 
her, somehow, [being] being myself so 
constantly on the rush. The 
expression will give Aunt B. 
goose flesh, but it represents 
a fact; slang generally does.
Your card of Nov. 29 
came last Monday. It is too 
bad that the house at High 
Wickham can't be rented. 
It is my private belief that 
most of the letters from 
Vernon that are sent to 
N.Y. never reach Mass., 
though one occasionally 
makes its way around to 
us. So you may [make a] give a
[a] brief bulletin of the latest 
Vernon news in each of your 
cards.  I'm sorry Burr 
remained so long. I fear it will 
end in your keeping both dogs.

[*duck's back ; but I think Mr. Avery has had a bad effect on Floy. She says he 
got her ideas all upset while he was down at M.V. Then Mr. Washburn has been 
trying to turn her right side up again ; he & his wife were at the*]

[*Bazaar, & invited Flo to visit them, & Flo & Edith went out there one 
day. I don't think Floy regrets that she didn't have him! I shouldn't [don't] mind.*] A very pleasant letter from Aunt Ey came the other day. She says: "The last new Blackwell is going to be a little [Black] black eyed Brownie like the others, not a fair child like Laurie. Emma suggests the name of Kenyon for him, but he still goes by the tile of Baby. Everything goes on very quietly here. Nannies school, her music lessons, & her two afternoons at a [gny] gymnasium - her capering class, as we call it, keeps her full occupied. - I was quite interested lately in some meetings held by the working girls of the city, to consider the ways & means of forming unions for their own advantage. At Dr. Daniels' request I [gv] gave

[* Flo's coming back to Unitarianism; Aunt Nettie's daughter never really belonged in the Methodist fold; but it will be a pity if Mr. Avery makes her what he calls himself a "Nothingarian." He is a good fellow, [but] and]Office of
The Woman's Journal,
No. 3, Park Street
Boston, 189_

how anybody can care for them.
     Mrs. Lawrence is in Cambridge,
but is going
home in a few days. We found
her upstairs in her bedroom by an open fire; + 
after supper we all congregated
there, as it was the only warm
place in the house, except the
kitchen.  This betwixt and between
season, when the days are
alternatively hot + cold, is very
trying, because one does not 
want the furnace on the warm
day, while on the alternate
cold one you shiver without
it.  We are going to light ours
to-day, [so] because Aunts Ellen
+ Eliza are coming, + we want 
to have the house thoroughly
warm for Aunt Eliza.  (Incidentally,
the Armenian minister's 
wife -- a nice young American
woman -- says the doctor at the 
State almshouse at Tewksbury told 
her that 33 Armenians had died 
there, first & last, & every one of them 
of consumption--because they don't 
know how to adapt their clothing 
to our sudden changes of temperature.) 
That is a digression. To resume : 
You ought to have seen the 
family group in Aunt Sarah's room 
yesterday evening ; Aunt Sarah & Papa 
sitting before the glowing grate, she 
fast asleep & he napping ; Emma 
preparing to read aloud to the youngsters 
(except Frances, who had been put to 
bed earlier) ; Uncle G. pervading space 
& benevolently beaming ; Anna crouched 
on her grandmother's bed, her little 
[han] hindquarters elevated in the 
air, & her head bent over Howard, 
who was stretched at full length on 
the sofa at the foot of the bed, with 
a broad grin of satisfaction on his 
face, while he patted his stomach 
enticingly as an invitation to 
me to sit on it--and take the 
consequences! Whenever I see him 
spread out on his back in that way, 

Office of
The Women's Journal,
No. 3 Park Street.
Boston,.........189__
the devil tempts me to go and 
sit down on him ; & when I tell 
him so, 
he always bids me come on, & 
intimates that he should defend 
himself with vigor & punish me 
severely!  Emma & the children 
had been that afternoon to see 
Hermann the magician, and were 
full of praises of the entertainment. 
In fact, when we arrived, Anna 
was in tears and seclusion because 
she wanted to go to see him again 
that evening, & the elders did 
not think it best. However, 
she emerged for supper, with 
her nose a little reddened, & 
behaved very well during the 
meal ; & when we departed she 
was hanging around her father's 
neck in the [ball] hall, with 
her dark pigtail down her back,perfectly reconciled.  By the way, Howard
has been given the student's quarters
upstairs, + Uncle G. has taken the
vast chilly library for his "den," as
he informed us. It is a fine room,
but too big to be cosey.  However, they
will light the furnace, before long,
+ that will take the chill off.  There
are oceans of books -- most of them
too solid to be to my taste.
     I enclose a nice letter from
Floy.  It made me want to go right
down to M.V.  But it will probably 
be some time before we can get away.
     Thursday evening was "ladies'
night" at the Starr King Club -- a little
club connected with our church -- +
Mr. Goodridge had invited me to discuss
woman suffrage with them; so when
we got home, after the paper had gone
to press, I prevaricatingly told Papa
that [here] there was "a sort of church
sociable" down at the vestry, + went off
+ left him to spend his evening alone.
But it would have paralyzed me to have
him there.  There were about three bona
fide opponents, who argued with conviction,
+ others who asked questions to help on
the discussion.  It went off quite well.  It
is the first speaking I have done since
I got home, + I don't speak again till


verge of nervous collapse
when she went there, + worry
+ loss of sleep have caused
a complete breakdown.  Emma
+ I met Aunt Emily at the 
train on her arrival from York
the other day, + [took] went with
her to the South Station, where
we all had lunch; + while we
were eating it, poor Reynold
came in to find me, + told 
me that Lizzie was almost
crazy, + he wanted her to
come over to Pope's Hill +
rest up for a few days.  He 
says she has been made
worse by being alone all
day long, + that Mrs. Barrows
knows just how to cheer 
her up.  Mrs. Barrows is suffering
from a bronchial attack, + we
are changing girls, + Aunt Ey
is making her visit, so it
was not just the most convenient
time, but of course
Lizzie had to come, under

the circumstances; + Reynold brought her over.  The
poor girl looks like a ghost.  She has entered on holidays; & there is a consumptive
who sleeps out on the veranda
under their veranda & coughs a
great deal, & a very disagreeable
family has moved in below.
The man smokes very
poor tobacco constantly, &
they keep their back door open,
so that the smell of their
cooking (very oniony) and of
their tobacco, mingled, comes 
up & pervades the Rogers'
rooms. So does their cat.
And the man sleeps right
under Lizzie's bedroom
& snores fearfully - Reynold
says he never heard such
a snorer - and poor Lizzie
can't sleep. She was on the

[*the change of life, & I suppose she is likely to
have trouble with her nerves for the next
few 
years.
Reynold &
Meyrie
are 
keeping
bachelors.]lost the use of her limbs -
can't walk more than
a few steps, & has to be
wheeled about - can't
get in & out of a
bathtub; seems
unable to coordinate
her legs. Will sometimes
talk rationally for a
good while, & then suddenly forget
the name of her interlocutor
& all about it.
I remember now the other
thing they thought she
might have - premature
hardening of the arteries.
At  first they thought
[*be depended on. Your off cousin,
Alice Stone Blackwellit might be softening of
the brain, or a tumor
on the brain; but it has 
increased too rapidly
to be that.  It is very sad.
But instead of being
keen & impatient & rather
irritable, as she used, she
is now quiet, placid
& content.  Dr. Wakefield
was expecting a visit from
her this A.M. when I
was there to have my
nose treated.  Poor dear little
Dr. Putnam Jacobi.  She was
very kind to me, & I liked
her.  Dr. W. says she will
be a great loss - that the

women needed her & she could alwaystimes since I came up here
of what some old woman
says in one of Mrs. Oliphant's
novels, when laying stress
upon the importance of
getting up a good dinner
for her young master -
"A man hasn't got sense
like a woman, but there
is no denying that he
has more taste of his
mouth." The way these
boys eat is delightful to
see, they do enjoy it so!
And there was something
the same pleasure in
seeing Mrs. Barrows
dance the Virginia Reel,
she did it with such
vim.As I lay in bed this morning 
thinking of of the birthday,
I had thoughts of giving
73 kisses to my pillow,
I wanted to kiss Mamma
so much; but decided to
wait till I see her,
& give them to her in person.
Yesterday came Mamma's
note with enclosures from
Mrs. Garrett & Mrs. Campbell &
Ada Watson.  I had written
to Mrs. Callanan (whose
letter to me was forwarded
here), giving our views.  It
is a foolish business, but
harmless - not like the 
old Train & Woodhull performances.  
I guess they wont
find many State societies
ready to give $100. for
such a purpose.  The cheek

of asking Iowa!
I hope Mamma will
make Ada Watson a pretty
liberal offer.  She is uncommonly 
efficient, and a
capable woman who gives
her whole time ought not
to get so much less than a
capable man can command
in almost any position.
A note also came yesterday 
from Papa, enclosing
a story, which I have
attended to.  I left Papa
only one controversial
article - "Women in Literature
& Art," from the Chicago
Elite News.  There is no 
hurry about it. Poor
little Laura Johns!
I hope she won't break down.It is too bad Sarah should have been
away just when there was so much
going on.  I hope Papa will succeed
in finding a purchaser for Clara's 
green house.
     We do have meat, Mamma
dear.   We have had roast beef,
+ lamb stew, + sundry good
things.  I don't feel the need
of applying to my dried beef
very often, except for the
sake of salt.  But I chipped
some off yesterday + gave it
to Allen, when he came out
of the water + began to eat
crackers.  They are all voracious
when they have just bathed;
+ they lie out on the wharf in
their bathing dresses, + bask in
the sun + munch oat-meal
crackers.  The beef was received 
with joy; + presently a small
crowd of [?lathy?] + leggy boys
raced by me like a flash,
[anno] announcing with their