Blackwell Family
Alice Stone Blackwell

General Correspondence

1880-1881
Putnam, Eliza OE O Putnam
1880

Dear Alice:
I am very sorry
not to see you this summer, but
hope for better fortune by and by. 
Next Monday I suppose I am to 
leave for Bernardston to teach the
young sisters how to school. 
Powers Institute is, I imagine, a
sort of country academy which in 
its more prosperous days employed
three or four teachers and fitted
good sized classes for college. I was 
engaged to teach Latin, Greek and
French; but within a few days have
learned that the classes will be 
smaller than was expected, and, 
consequently, I shall be the only
lady teacher employed. The Principal 
of this school, Mr Jackson, willaccordingly teach most of the
older classes himself, and I shall
do miscellaneous work ranging from
Swinton's Language Lessons to Greek grammar
possibly. I am somewhat riled, 
and if I could get any thing else
to do, wouldn't go.
This summer has been a most vexatious
one. I have interviewed committee
men and school principals, I have written
letters by the score, and have done
violence in a thousand ways to my own
feelings and disposition. I do believe
I would go into a shoe shop rather
than spend another summer like it. 
The result of my research is just this, 
Public schools won't take young inexperienced
teachers, seminaries etc 
won't take Universalists. I have 
lost three places for just Universalism.
At two of them I was acknowledged 
to be the best qualified of
any applicant; at the last so much
so that the principal was
in favor of taking me but the 


trustees would not agree. In this
last school they have engaged a
teacher of Latin who has read none
of the authors required for the
last year and a half of the course:
her orthodoxy weighs more than her
lack of Latin. Mr Jackson didn't
find Universalism an objection because
he is apparently destitute of any religion.
He says he goes to the Methodist
meeting, his mother goes to the Unitarian
Church and if, I don't object, he
wishes I would attend the congregationalist 
church so as to conciliate the
greatest number of people possible.
It makes so little difference to him
that maybe his mother and I can
effect a [?scoop?]. I am slightly tinged
with blue you may observe, and it
is too bad to upset my blue ink upon
you. But I have have absolutely
no one to talk to and shall feel
better to free my mind once.
I am not very well and may be that
will account for a little of the spleen.
For four years past my mother'shealth has been so poor that to
all intents and purposes I have
had to be head of the family, and
have had one problem to solve harder
than any in calculus; namely how
to keep house, pay taxes etc., and support
two students in college for about $400
a year. If I were strong and well,
it would never have troubled me so
much; but the continual strain and
worry every day and almost every
hour has been almost more than
I would bear. I have had to learn
to dress on about $10 a year and to estimate
the cost of things in general by the
time it would take to hunt them
out of the attic and make them
over. And this summer I am tired
out completely. I want to do two or
three years more work either in
languages and philology or in biology.
I am not quite sure which at
John Hopkin's University if they [?] take
women [?] abroad. And I have hoped
against hope that I should be able
to earn something this year toward
that end. At Bernardston I shall
just about be able to pay my bills
and that is all - I am a good
deal discouraged; but hope something
better may turn up before long. I haven't
engaged at Bernardston for the year 


and can leave at any time. 
If I thought I would possibly
get pupils enough in Boston to
pay my way, I should come back
to B.n,  to study after Thanksgiving.
I wish I knew of anything else a
poor girl could do beside teaching
I am really ashamed of myself
to write to you after this fashion
If I were a little younger, I
might have had a good cry and
felt the better for it.
Please write to me often. I am
not a good correspondent, but will
try to become one for I value
your friendship too much to want
it to drop now that our school
days are over I don't want to
be quite forgotten for I like you
exceeding much and you have
been one of my chief comforts the
last two years. 
Very affectionately
Eliza Putnam1880


E O Putnam
1880

Dear Alice;
By this time I suppose
B.U. has had its machinery well
oiled, a fire quiet under the boiler,
and its wheels well started. On
Wednesday and Thursday I was fairly
homesick, thinking on the gathering
of the clans. Give my love to all
the girls, I wish I had time to
write to every one. I owe Miss
Sanford a letter and hope pay
the [class] soon. Miss Prosser and
Miss Price I meant to write to, but
there is a certain warm country
paved as to its streets with good
intentions, you know. And Miss
Abbot, I almost think I promised
to write to her.
Well, look hard at Prof. Bowne
for me, and report any startling
coinage of his, goof, bad, or indifferent.
What a shame it is that onecan't stay a school girl forever,
but must needs grow up, graduate,
and go to work.
Bernardston pursues the even
tenor of its way, undisturbed by
any breath from the world
outside. I hear a vague rumor
of bad news from Maine, but
in the dearth of papers, am left
wholly to conjecture. Bernardston
library takes no papers at all,
daily or weekly; but it does
take a single copy each of Harper's and
Scribner's magazines. I hope to
get a peep at them sometime.
Powers Institute is a building,
and I did intent to board in it,
was expected to do so at least;
but, if slang be allowable from
a backwoods woman, it was no-go.
The rooms were enough to frighten
the boldest, unfinished, encarpeted,
dirty and not fragrant.
I am boarding at present with a dear good woman
whom I like very much.


But -  there always is a but - [yo]
in this world - she lives upstairs
and has four children - My room
is just big enough to hold a
bed, a tiny table and one chair -
I keep my books under the
table and under the bed, and
when I have company, we
sit on the floor - I get along
comfortably enough except when
I am tired. Then it is almost
unbearable for my room opens
out of the sitting room, and is
only separated by a thin partition
from the kitchen. Four romping
children and three other boarders
make a confused and noisy 
household.  I read and study
in my recitation room till
tea time, take a long walk after
tea, and go to bed early.
School hours are from 9 a.m.
till 12 - and from 12 till 4 p.m.
I am glad to say that Saturday
is a holiday.
There are worse places on Earth
than Bernardston. I have
bewitched a small boy, a
homely little fellow thirteen orfourteen years old, [?with?] a very
convenient state of devotion.
He is in the entering class and
studies as life depended on perfect
lessons. Better yet he brings me
flowers and grapes and apples
every day, apples that "truly and
honestly" weigh a pound apiece.
I haven't one scholar who is
really bright and the poor creatures
have had so little training that
the reasoning faculty seems 
almost entirely dormant.
They can memorize but not
think - I have been struggling
a week to make fractions
comprehensible to the entering class,
and have succeeded with only
one member, the above mentioned
small boy. They average fifteen
years of age, and yet can't seem 
to realize that a half is larger
than a fourth. As a last resort
I recommended them to watch
the pie when it was cut for
dinner. On the other hand
they are nearly all good
students, honest, hardworking,
faithful. I have no trouble
at all so far as discipline goes-
they govern themselves.

I wonder if I have already 
told you of the enthusiastic
post mistress who annoys the
town's people [?] by closing the
office every day at two to sit
note book in hand, attentive to
my classes; or of the important
trustee who visited me one
afternoon and notified me in
very bad English that he didn't
approve of these ere newfangled
ways of teaching. Little things
take on a deal of importance
in my monotonous life and so
I am apt to tell of the same
one over and over again.
On Friday afternoons, during
[grammar drills?] you can find
me listening to a literary
programme also, rhetoricals,
compositions etc. This is the
model on which all P.I. compositions
are built. Subject,
trees, or birds or flowers, etc,
"There are many kinds of trees
(or birds etc-) of which the
most common [common] are
pine, oak, walnut - etc.
Pine is used for - ; oak is used
for - etc. The invariableEnding is as follows: "I have mentioned
only a few of the most common
kinds, but I fear to tire you with
a long composition". I have been
proposing to Mr. J to save trouble
by having a set of blanks made
out for the students to fill in
the appropriate subjects, trees
birds etc, the forms of the sentences
being printed alike for all.
The chief thorn in my flesh
is Mrs J. She is bent on having
me spend Sundays with her,
and I am equally determined
not to go. Last week I declined
so decidedly that I hoped to be 
let alone in future; but no-
last night she came for me
again, resolved not to take
any refusal. Fortunately I
was so tired and worn out
that Mrs. C, my landlady, insisted
on my being left in peace
The experience of this fall, though
by no means a pleasant one,
is giving me, I hope, something 
[that] I sorely needed, self reliance
and patience.
I like to teach and hard


work is the best of antidotes
for the blues
I am glad you approve of Leslie's
young man. Did you know
[that] I had been engaged six
years, and that the engagement
was broken last winter?
I believe a right marriage is
the happiest state for a man
or woman either, but that
anything is preferable to a
wrong one. The man I was
to marry is in many respects
the best man I ever knew, but
he couldn't be made to realize
that girls have to grow up.
He wanted to keep me a baby-
and I unfortunately couldnt
stay one, but had to think and
form opinions of my own.
He has payed for a college
education for his two sisters,
but was terribly opposed to my
going to school, or to my being
anything but a play thing- and
so we went our different ways
though he loved me and I loved him.
There, I see Mrs. J coming up the
street again. If that woman
[dosnt] doesnt let me alone, there
may be a tragedy in BernardstonI shall catch up my hat,
slip out of the rear door, and
be off for a walk.
Dont attempt to change any
opinion of you, for you cant.
You always did blackguard
yourself, and lend a helping
hand to every body else.
lovingly, in haste,
E Putnam


Powers Institute.
Bernardston, Mass.
L. McL. Jackson, Principal.

Dear Alice;
I have been wishing to write to you 
ever since I came to Bernardston but my spare
minutes are few and far between. I hope you are
not very ill. Marion J. wrote me a few days ago
that you had been ill, and I didn't know whether
it meant any thing more than the dysentery you were
suffering from when you wrote to me or not.
I have been settled in my new home about two weeks
now, and find in it many things pleasant, and many
unpleasant; just as it is all over the world, I suppose.
Bernardston is a pretty little town, surrounded by hills.
It is a never failing delight to watch the mists
break and roll away in the morning, and the purple
shadows gather at night, especially since I have always
lived in such a flat, [?], monotonous country before.
These same hills, however, seem to shut the village in from
all the stir and bustle of this 19th century. Never a bicycle
parades its streets, grass grown and narrow, not a single
daily paper is taken within its limits so far as I can
ascertain. Certainly none can bought at either of its two
stores. My most advanced pupil, a girl of twenty, who is
pretty well fitted for college, has never been in a railway
car in her life. -These few straws show very nearly the
direction of the prevalent Bernardston wind. Its people
are honest farmer folk, kindly and social, but most
horrible murderers of the king's English.
Powers Institute has about fifty pupils of all ages and
sizes. Students enter at any age above twelve, and stay
as long as they like.
I have a class in Vergil numbering three, a class
in French also of three members, one boy reading Homer,
and a small class in Algebra. The rest of my
work is with the youngest class who take elementary
grammar school studies. The average fourteen years
of age, but the district schools are so poor that they
know less than  bright children of ten at home.
I am teaching them notation in Arithmetic, illustrating
the shape and motions of the Earth to my Geography classwith apples for each of globes, and beginning Swinton's
Language Lessons with the benighted creatures, I dont
like it over much, but, I imagine I may find the
same sort of satisfaction in it that I used to feel in the sweeping
an extraordinarily dirty floor. The result of your work is
the more apparent, I am learning a needed lesson
too in finding out how little I know myself; and
how much difference there is between knowing a thing
well enough to understand it yourself, and knowing
it well enough to make another understand it.
I should be much better content if there were a
different sort of man at the head of the school,
Mr Jackson thinks more of lining his pocket than
of the good of the students, and so all arrangements
are made with reference to the will and pleasure
of the out of town students who pay tuition, and the rich
students "whom it is wise to conciliate." As a result I
have his scholars in my Algebra class who have never
been through common fractions in Arithmetic yet. But
there is no course of study, the students take what they
like, and Mr J. wont hear of offending these two by even
suggesting that they make a different choice of work. If
they lived in town and paid no tuition, they wouldnt be
admitted to the school at all. It is just the same
with every thing else. I was required to give  up a
good class in the Anabasis, to take my one boy in Homer;
because he is rich and must have his way, and the others
are lower students and "it wont hurt them to wait till
next term for their Greek." Mr. J is however more endurable
than his mother, who tries to make a great pet of me. She
had me sent for two days before school opened, for no Earthly
reason that I can find out except to attend a picnic.
Of course I thought there was work to be done, but no, Mrs
Jackson said there was so little going on in Bernardston
it was the best plan "to rake in all you could" and so she
 thought I "would like to rake in this picnic," She is worse
 beyond description, and I am getting into a habit of going out
to walk at night at just the time she is apt to come
to my room.
Last Sunday at church we had a sermon on the resurrection
of the body, with a discussion of the problem presented by
the case of a man eaten by a tiger, and the tiger afterward
devoured by another man; whose in the resurrection shall
not flesh be; also a description of the storm of


arms and legs flying through the air to find proper owners.
I managed a few days ago to open a wrong door in the
dark and fall down a flight of stairs. I went to the
only doctor in town for some arnica. He has no  office but
ransacked the kitchen closet for medicines success,
I had to send seven miles to Greenfield for a bottle of arnica.
It arrived, however, in due season, and my bruises are feeling
better. It's a queer place and amusing at first.
But now that I am getting used to my work[ing] and
falling into the routine, I begin to feel very lonesome.
Everybody is good to me, but we have few interests in common.
There are no books to be had, and I feel  stifled. Bernardston
boasts of its library but the volumes which do not contain moral
stories for children do hold Mrs Southworth's novels.
There is just one woman in Bernardston who has glimmering
of a world outside. This enlightened woman knows
a lady who knows an aunt of yours in Bellows Falls
with whom you spent some time two years or so ago.
This same woman also knows somebody who has been at
Wilbraham and reads Leila Taylor's poetry. But, alas,
she is the wife of the dreadful man who preached about
the resurrection.
I mean to be as happy as I can, but its hard work. If
I were more independent and less sensitive to outside 
influences, I should get on better. I dare say I shall
learn to be sufficient unto myself in course of time, but
just now I am very  lonely.
It is just possible that I may come into Boston on
Friday the 1st of October, and spend Sunday at home, if so
I shall send you word before hand so as to be sure of
seeing you. Your letter did me world of good, I had
a hearty laugh over your indignation[s] at those poor
 trustees and have felt brighter ever since.
You are a born consoler, but it shames me a little
to think that if you were in my place, you wouldnt
need so much consoling. You are the very embodiment
of courage and cheerfulness, and just to look at you hashelped me a good many times when I was tired out
and almost discouraged. You always bring sunshine
and fresh air into a room with you, and are the best
tonic imaginable. I have used up my time, and
must close with saying that I fibbed when I said I
liked you- I don't like you, I love you dearly
E O Putnam

Bernardston, Mass. Sept. 4, 1880 

[*Mrs P Lr, bottled armica
Prof B - college
Paine
Letting hen - blue mould burglars
Budlongs
Poor little lonesome girl
Dont worry to write*]


81

Dear Alice:
Even yet doth my
hair stand on end and my voice 
stick in my throat at the bloodthirsty
opening of your note. Angels and
ministers of grace defend us. By the
sacred bones of my ancestors, I will
not fail to be present.
I am very sorry you have called
so many times in vain and now
beginning to look upon you as an
odd sort of invisible fairy godmotherwho deals out gifts with one hand
and threats with the other.
You dear good girl, the next time
you come let Miss Peabody or some
body else call if you cant stay
more than half a minute : else I'll
interview you with something worse
than a butcher knife.
In [haste?]
E. O. PutnamDanvers, May 22, '81

Dear Alice;
I have ascertained
that your examination in Physiology
is to take place next Thursday. If it
will prove a burden to spend Wednesday
precious hours with Prof. B, why we
can postpone our trip a day or two.
If not, why do your "cramming"
up early in the week
Lovingly
E. O. Putnam
1881


Annisquam, July 3, 1881,

Dear Alive:
I have neglected you
shamefully, havent I? But yesterday
I was sick all day, had to lie
abed and think of my sins, till
a realizing sense of my badness
came over me, and I resolved to
be good in future. When his satanic
majesty was ill, you know, the results
were thus far similar. Let us I hope
the parallel will not head father.
I have been established in Annisquam
about a fortnight and until
yesterday was the only lady among
eight young men. We have now
a half dozen other women, Boston
teachers all. One of them, a Miss
Shove is an energetic individual who
donned a bathing suit and
found her way into the water within
the first hour of the stay, hunted
up a horse and side saddle and was
off for a ride during the second hour. An astonishing amount
of energy it seems to me after
teaching nine years in a sixth
class primary.
Annisquam is of course startled
with angry excitement over the
news of Garfield's assassination. A
pretty state of things in this
republic of ours, if our president
is to be no safer then a Prussian
czar. One small grain of comfort
there is however- I wouldnt give
a fig for Conklings chances of going
back to Washington now.
[Mr] Miss Eliot has engaged "Louise
Lodge" for August; and now,
Miss Alice, see that you help her


occupy it. The party will be
just spoiled for me if you 
don't come, and you really
must contrive to be here a
part of the time at least.
Prof. H. is off to Labrador, Mr. V. V.
luxuriates in a ten oclock breakfast
and keeps his horse next-door. Mr
French is visiting his lady at Castine,
and Mr Conn is as sublimely indifferent
to all things earthly as ever. That
is all the news I know save and
except that Miss Eddy is engaged
which is old news to you I suppose.
One more little item may
interest you possible lowest. A
certain young man spent two days
in Danvers a short time since and
is expected in course of the summer
for a longer visit. I dont
care to have it talked about
very much, because it will bedonned a bathing suit and
found her way into the water within
the first hour of the stay, hunted
up a horse and side saddle and was
off for a ride during the second hour. An astonishing amount
of energy it seems to me after
teaching nine years in a sixth
class primary.
Annisquam is of course startled
with angry excitement over the
news of Garfield's assassination. A
pretty state of things in this
republic of ours, if our president
is to be no safer then a Prussian
czar. One small grain of comfort
there is however- I wouldnt give
a fig for Conklings chances of going
back to Washington now.
[Mr] Miss Eliot has engaged "Louise
Lodge" for August; and now,
Miss Alice, see that you help her


occupy it. The party will be
just spoiled for me if you 
don't come, and you really
must contrive to be here a
part of the time at least.
Prof. H. is off to Labrador, Mr. V. V.
luxuriates in a ten oclock breakfast
and keeps his horse next-door. Mr
French is visiting his lady at Castine,
and Mr Conn is as sublimely indifferent
to all things earthly as ever. That
is all the news I know save and
except that Miss Eddy is engaged
which is old news to you I suppose.
One more little item may
interest you possible lowest. A
certain young man spent two days
in Danvers a short time since and
is expected in course of the summer
for a longer visit. I dont
care to have it talked about
very much, because it will bea long time yet before there
is any thought of marriage
between us; but if you can
tell Cadge, if you wish, that I am
engaged. I dont [I] need to tell
you perhaps that I am very happy
meanwhile will make no difference
for the present in my work or plans.
I have some time yet to spend
in getting strong before I want to go
to housekeeping. I dont do or
say too much about it for my
[?] will run away with me if I
dont take care, and some of my
rhapsodies might prove tedious reading. 
One thing I shall say however,
If I am not a  happy wife, it
will in all probability be my own
fault, for I am going to marry
a man whom I know to be good
in the widest meaning of the word, and
whom I love with all my heart.


I hope that you and cousin
"Kitty" are enjoying the summer.
Give my love to your mother and
be sure you present yourself
in Annisquam next month.
I am thinking over your book
and shall send it back soon.
I hope I shall be in Boston
next winter if only to be near
you, for among all the people who
love you, there cant be many
who love you better than I.
Write to me soon and come to me in
August,
Eliza PutnamSaturday noon
Oct 15, 81

My dear Alice,
Here I am, as
my brother used to say sitting
like somebody or other
amid the ruins of something
or other. We are about
to move. Our worldly goods
[lik] lie packed about us,
and we repose uneasily in
the midst, anxiously waiting
to endow the expressman
therewith. Here we have sat
for two hours and here we
may sit till night. Phila'da
people are lazy, and Phila'da
expressmen especially.
Meanwhile I vary the monotony
by unearthing an extremely
dull pencil and a [stray?]
sheet of paper not too deeply
buried, and scribbling to youDon't fancy that I am in
the slightest danger of brain
fever or any other kind.
Quite the contrary, I am not
in danger of anything at all
save finding myself too lazy
to get up some fine morning.
My refractory nerves have tired me
out physically as well as mentally
and my present ideal of perfect
bliss is to lie perfectly still and
not be spoken to for a month say
I have a dim recollection of
a story they used to tell me
about the man who was too
lazy to live. When his neighbors
were driving him away to bury
him some body offered him a
bag of corn; he just lifted his
head to ask "is it shelled?" and
on getting a negative answer
only said "then drive me along."
I understand that man's
state of mind perfectly just
now.
School goes on just as usual,
I am pretty well acquainted


with the boys by this time, and
know about what to expect
from each. My bad boy
par excellence is as bad as  ever.
I don't know what I shall do
with him at all, but I shall
find out sooner or later, at
least I hope so.
Mother is suffering from her
cold still, but I think it is
wearing off. I do hope
she will get rested and
strong. I hardly realized
before how frail she is, but 
since we have been here together
she has been so dependent upon
me for every thing, that it
fairly makes me wild to think
of the possibility, probability even,
that before winter I may have
to give up teaching. I shall
make the best fight I can
and hope for the best. It
may be that I shall get rested
gradually and have apleasant winter after all
2.30 PM. At last the expressman
appeared and our watch
was relieved. We have conveyed
ourselves to our new lodging, and
are now beginning a second 
watch for our baggage delayed
somewhere on the road.
We are now to board with a
Mrs Peart,  North East corner of
18th + Vine Sts. We have a
very pretty room in a pleasant
neighborhood, the only drawback
is its distance from my place
of business a mile or more.
My hair fairly stood on end
and my voice stuck in my
throat when I realized that
you had showed my letter to
Prof B. I've racked my
brain to no purpose to think of
what was in that epistle, but
cant remember a word.
I've grown resigned to it now,
but the [?] shock of such
intelligence was awful.


I hope you looked very
carefully to be sure I hadnt
misspelled any words, I seldom
write a page without
You mustnt think I mind
your doing it, because I dont
at all. Only I am so apt
to forget that trials and tribulations
are not cheerful things to read
about, and to begin to pour
out my woes when I write to
you. That I was a little
horrified at the thought of
parading before Prof. B in the
character of scribe, all tears.
However I dont much believe he
read it all.
Mr Heaton is coming down from
Brooklyn tomorrow. I havent
seen him since June, and I
think I am a wee bit frightened.
Yous with as much love as a lazy girl is capable of,
E O PutnamMonday Oct 24, 81
Dear Alice;
You really seem
in a dangerous mood. Well
for me is it that you
have no seven league boots,
and are too busy to use them
if you had. Else what
suffering would be mine for
the trifling offense of scribbling
a few sentences after ten
P.M. [Very] Verily I say
unto you, look to yourself
before you warn me. You
are working harder than I
now, and will very likely
pay for it - quite as dearly.
My dear, my dear, I missyou very much, and wish
so many times every day
that I could just look into
your eyes and get courage
from them. You used to
say that I had a quieting
effect upon you. you have
just the opposite effect upon
me. You always rouse me,
and make me think of a
dozen things I ought to do and
havent.
The Philadelphia world [w??]
on much as ever. I am
exceeding busy and not strong.
Each day's work looms up like
a mountain before me in
the morning; and, when this
hill of difficulty is at length
climbed, I lie down and
try to rest till teatime. Then


I creep out for a
little walk with mother,
look [ou] over my next
days lessons and go to bed.
Yesterday I varied the programme
by a painting bit, the first
time I ever really painted in
my life. On the whole
I don't think I lost
much ground, and have hope yet
that I may come out
conqueror.
I have the satisfaction of
knowing that I am succeeding
in my school work at least.
Its a great comfort to know
you can do a thing, even if 
you dont like it. And I
have always doubted my success
as a teacher, I have such odd
awful sinking of the heart
when the big boys throng into
the room, and I must stand
up and talk to themMy present boarding place
is at the N. E. corner of 18th
+ Vine Sts. We are with
a Mrs. Peart who [a] is a
black haired, bright eyed, good
natured woman, with a head for
business. We like her very
much.
I am sorry to send you
such short and scrappy
epistles continually, but
I havent much extra time
or energy. I think of you
continually, and I love
you well,
E. PutnamPhila. Oct 31, 1881.
Dear Alice;
Your letter was the
first thing I saw on coming home
from school today, and a most
welcome sight it was.
I too wish I could have seen
May Haven married. The dear girl,
I hope Mr [Yhiekild?] will appreciate
her. Isn't it curious that I never
saw a wedding yet? I suppose my
father married people enough when
I was small, but I was too little
to remember a single occasion.
If I have a bridesmaid, I had
rather it were you than any body
else in the world. But I hope my
marriage will be too simple and
informal to dignify any body by
that title. If I have my own way
about it, I shall be married at
home in my mother's sitting room
with a scant dozen onlookers. I
should hardly feel married at all,
though, if you didn't come and
beam upon me, and give your consent
to the procedure.
With regard to the Rev. M. Y.
I feel much like saying I told
you so. Methinks I remember
prophesying a meeting, and also
mutual liking. By this time
one part of the prediction has
been fulfilled, and I hope the
other also. Seriously I am
very glad you have seen him
and hope a better understanding
resulted. There seemed to me
a ring of earnestness and 

sincerity about the man that
one cant help recognizing however
mistaken one may think him.
Neither do I approve of
fainting fits, and neither did I
ever have a real truly one before.
The how of it was this. On Sunday
after noon we went out Fairmount,
mother and I together. I did
not feel well, & had to sit down
frequently. The horsecars were close
and crowded when we came
back, and I felt worse. On reaching
home I was dizzy and lay down
a moment thinking it would
[less?] off. The next thing I
remember was opening my eyes
and finding mother rubbing me
in somewhat distracted fashion.
She says I hardly breathed for
half an hour or more.I don't mean to repeat
the performance however.
It grows more and more
probably that I shall be
obliged to throw up my work
before many weeks go by. I
don't gain at all though the
loss if any is slow. If I do
come home, I shall keep
perfectly still for a month or
two, and look for some other
means of earning my bread and
butter. There is to be a Wm Penn
Charter School for girls opened
next fall, and Mr Jones has
offered me the charge of it.
I feel just as much out of place
though teaching, as a man born
to be a lawyer would in the
pulpit. I can teach pretty well
but I dont do it heartily [and]
or with any enjoyment.


The teaching part is well enough,
but there's too much playing
policeman about it: I often feel more
like laughing than schooling,
when a boy is bad. I was
invited out to play football at
recess today, and wished I could
go too. Well, well, if its a
possible thing I shall hold out
this year; but I shant teach
again if I can earn my living
otherwise. I am thoroughly
satisfied that it was my duty to
come here this fall; but it is
just as evident that it also
my duty next time to try to find
different work. I am so
foolishly nervous and shy, that
I doubt if I should ever be
strong enough to bear the peculiar
strain of teaching; and I amcertain that I could do better
something that I liked better
and put more of myself into.
I have at least won one
victory since coming. My chief
torment is fast becoming my chief
ally. Little by little he subsided
into quiet, and little by little
he is now fitting himself on
the side of law and order. I
feel triumphant every time I look at
him and see how the defiant
look has gone out of his eyes, and
how earnest and studious he is growing.
I always manage sooner or later
to make my scholars like me
and work hard for me.
But when my day's work is done,
the effort of my five hours teaching
leaves me just able to walk
home and go a-bed. I havent


sat up a singl afternoon
except on Sundays for three weeks
at least.
Yesterday morning mother and I
hunted up the 2nd Universalist
Church of Phila. and heard an
old fashioned sermon from an old
white headed man- Mr [??ye].
If you see Mrs Bowne soon, please
ask her if she rec'd the letter
I sent her a while ago. I was
afraid after I sent it that
I had carelessly misdirected it,
and should be glad to know if it
reached her safely.
In haste
E. O Putnam

Phila. etc. Nov. 18, 1881.
Dear Alice;
I was greatly
ashamed to read that Stella had
been obliged to ask my address
of you, and instantly wrote her a
note of apology. I have thought
of her often since I left home,
I have great respect for a girl who
can carry the load she is bearing,
and I like her well beside. And
yet, I am lazy, and [have] had never
sent her a line to let know
what part of the universe [I was in] held me.
I suppose I dont need to tell
you her address now, I am sorry
I overlooked it [I] before.
She is a fine girl. I think youwill like her, and your mother
too.
My hapless kitten I bought and
paid $1.25 for, so valuable are
juvenile felines in the city of
brotherly love. Mr Jones was away,
I think, and saw nothing, however,
when I heard him ask the janitor
if [he] there was a cat in the building.
He said there was a "furry" smell
that he couldnt account for. That
man's nose must be sharp enough
to compensate for his dull ears.
The end of that kitten was pathetic.
After the physiology lesson I took
the remains home with me,
intending to put the heart and
lungs into alcohol for future use.
For some reason or other I was
unable to do so until the next afternoon,


at which time, the beast was
beginning to be "malodorous." I
decided to let heart and lungs 
[severely?] alone, wrapped up the
poor, slaughtered innocent in
six or eight thicknesses of paper,
and then mother and I called
forth to find an appropriate
place of burial. We took a
car to the outskirts of the city,
and then wandered off in search
of a desolate pit leading down
into Hades. After much seeing
we at last found a barren and
deserted field just back of Girard
College, where, stealthily and hurriedly,
we excavated a hole, put kitty in,
and covered the spot with a big 
stone. A solitary negro came
up behind just as we finished
our task, and some women

were gossiping on a door step
in the distance. We glanced
about to see if they would
investigate the spot, and arrest
us for child murder; but no, they
saw nothing and we escaped in
safety . Nowadays whenever in our walks
we come upon a neglected spot
overgrown with weeds, I at once
exclaim, "What a good kitty place."
and mother instantly answers,
"no, you cant have another kitten
while  I stay with you."
I dont think I shall, either.
They cost too much, and are too
hard to get rid of.
Have had no adventures this
week worth mentioning, and
am rejoicing hugely in Friday
night. It is doubtful if we
get any holiday at Thanksgiving
but I hope for the best.
The Friends dont [keep] observe the day,
and object to closing the school.
Last year the teachers exerted


themselves and obtained a holiday
for the first time. The committee
were vexed, however, and it remains
to be seen whether they will give it
to  us [tod] this year or not.
They visit the school very seldom,
I have little or no company in
my room. My Jones is in and out,
but he is too deaf to count.
Thanks for your prescriptions. I havent
had energy enough to take
them to a druggist yet, but mean
to do so tomorrow.
It is a somewhat peculiar case,
in that I begin to be troubled about
eight oclock every morning, it
lasts until three or half past in
the afternoon, and then disappears

[*and [mistle?] we and human sacrifice etc
etc. Dont you wish you had the task
of explaining to me why [it] said tale
was "not exactly suitable" for your
columns? Take good care of those
rebellious [vis???] of yours. I wish
you were here, I want you all the time
but someday o I want you uncommon
bad, and this is one of them. Give my love to your mother*]
until next day. If I didnt
have intermissions of that sort,
I suppose I should have had
to give up before now.
I want to teach till Christmas
for two reasons. First and
foremost, it would not be right
to desert Mr Jones in term time
if it can possibly be avoided.
He has no one to take my place,
and it would be a great
inconvenience to him. At Christmas
the school is closed for ten days
or so, and he can look about for some
body else, and some body else can begin
a new term more easily than step
into the middle of an old one.
Next I want the money.
I am not anxious enough about
it to kill myself for it, but I am
anxious to work as long as I can


Then too it is barely possible that I
may get better, if I have patience
and be able to finish out my year.
John wishes me to give up
teaching; but he is not so anxious
about me as he would be, if he
had not known me long enough to
know that I never succeed in
being either very well or very sick.
I suppose I ought to have absolute
rest for a little while, and if I
knew of any thing on earth I
could do after it, I should feel
more easy about taking it. But
I should hardly dare try teaching
again this year, even if I could
get another place. Possibly, I could
get private pupils if Prof. [?Busk?]
would help me but that is
[a] only a possibility. And so, I prefer
to stay here as long as possible.[*E. O. Putnam*]

Phila. Nov. 28, 1881.
Dear Alice;
I am very sorry 
to hear such sad news from
Leila. Poor girl, she is desolate
indeed. There is little that one
can say, words are such sorry
comforters. I am glad to
have seen her letter, it is brave
and strong.
Lydia Dame reached this city last
Thursday afternoon. On Friday
morning we went out to the "Zoo"
together, and interviewed the elephants,
lions, etc. It was a bitter cold
day; and, as we gazed at the
polar bears, Lydia remarked in
a tone that sounded a bit envious 


I rec'd what mother calls some
"yards" of advice from John
this morning. But after all nobody 
need worry about me. I dont
mean to hurt myself- I go to bed
every afternoon and get all the
rest I can, I do no extra work
and I take things at school as
easily as possible.
Indeed I do read the Journal,
original poems, stories, and all, I
hope you arranged matters satisfactorily
with the [incohint] poetess. Just
wait till I feel moved to send you
some of the "poems" I scribbled in
the days of my youth, and you
will find your hard work harder.
And stories too. I once penned a tale
of two children who were decoyed
into a wood by druids. It was all
about deep caves, and oak trees,

[*and don't let me hear of your being found some morning
buried in the den beneath a pile of manuscript and
unnoticed books -E.P*]

[*all the rest must wait till next time.
Good by, dear
Yours very lovingly
E.O. Putnam*]"I suppose they're just sweltering
with the heat." I am sorry to
report that on the whole her conduct
 barely befitted a staid Washington School
ma'am. Indeed I found it necessary
to call her attention over and
over again to the placards which 
forbade visitors to annoy the animals
with "tobacco or otherwise." She
tickled the monkey with straws, and
threw peanut shells at the tigers,
and in short was respectful to none
but the snakes.
On Saturday we explored the
Catholic cathedral, where we saw
some fine wall paintings, spent
an hour at Independence Hall
gazing upon John J. Adam's baby
clothes and Washington's spectacles,
hunted up the grave of Benj. Franklin,
looked about in bookstores, and


visited the Wm. Penn Charter School.
Sunday morning we attended St
Mark's Church, where the music was
fine but the sermon stupid.
Prof. Mitchell left the city in the
afternoon and Lydia came to 18th
and Vine St to spend the night with
me. We attended church in 
the evening, and heard Rev. James
Danforth preach a good sermon on
"[???lism]." Then we talked
well into the night,  this morning
in the gray dawn, while Mercury
was shining down through the
trees, we sallied out once more,
and, alas, the Washington train
whisked her off out of sight.
She looks well, but says she
is not so strong as last year.
I feel better acquainted with
her now. In spite of our two years atB.U. together, I never saw so much
of her as in the four days
she spent here.
Well I have entered upon my last
month's work. In spite of my
vacation I am tired tonight, and
dread tomorrow.
I sent "The Fate of Madame La Tour"
to my brother this morning, and
hope it will stir him up to
find out as much of the present
state of affairs as possible. He
sends us the "Salt Lake City Tribune"
occasionally, a paper published by
the [Gentiles?] of his city. The last
copy contained a marked article
which I clip for your edification.
What to do is a serious question.
10.30 PM I was called out
at this [point?] and it so late that


Phila, etc, Nov. 5, 1881.
Dear Alice;
Your letters have
fallen round me this week in
a perfect shower, and I have
exulted in the abundance thereof.
I enjoyed the interview with M. J.
especially. If I could only have
been a fly on the wall to see him
lie back in his chair and gaze
in bewilderment on a young
woman simple enough to take
a theory in earnest and try to
apply it to every day life. No
wonder he didnt know what to
say. They used to say of Universalism
that is was good to live by, but
wouldnt do to die by. I amafraid evolution isnt good to
live by or die by either, but is only
of use to talk by.
Well I am disappointed in M. J.
the man. His writings sound
earnest and I hoped he was so.
Did it seem to you that he was
working for a reputation without
so much care for the truth of what he said,
so long as it produced an effect?
If he isnt thoroughly earnest, why
did he send for you? If he isnt [?]
to care for your own good and to
honestly wish to add you to the
earnest and thinking minds who
assemble every week to read those
printed sermons, why it must be
that he wished to stop your
mouth, and hinder future
skirmishes in the Register.
Well, I am glad he was honest


enough to follow [ut] out his train
of logic to its legitimate end in
private if not in public, and
to own to you that the engineer
was not in duty bound to throw
away his own life to save that
of any body or even of ever body
else. Alas, I hate to lose
respect for an opponent, it
takes away all the fun of
pitching into him.
Mother has been sick with a cold
all the week, but is improving
somewhat I think. The Wm Penn
Charter flourishes. We have been
making out monthly reports today
and my head is in consequence
muddled and cross. My young
reprobate was at the foot of his
class last month, he came out
number one today, an occurrencewhich I look upon with some
complacency. He is a handsome lad
and is growing thoroughly
likable.
I had some idea of indulging
myself in another faint this
afternoon; but finally contented
myself with zigzaging down
Market St in a way that must
have caused the police men to
keep a sharp eye on me as a
suspicious character. Mother had to
keep me about my reports a
good deal, I was so stupid and
incompetant after it.
You may spare yourself the
trouble of appealing to Mr H.
for I have surrendered at
discretion. Since he came
here three weeks ago, and
saw how things were going with


me, I havent had a minute's
peace. He has enlisted my
mother and his own mother
on his side, and I have been
attacked on all hands.
Mr H. has given it as his opinion
that I should be well enough if
I would let him take care of
me, and thinks, if not, the more
need there is of an overseer.
I am not quite easy in my
mind about it yet. I'm afraid
it isnt right, but no has been
all my life the hardest word
in the language for me to
utter. So I have gone back
on my fine resolutions of a
few weeks ago, and have
promised, in case I dont get any worse, to be married next
summer, probably in June or SeptemberThe seventeenth of June is the anniversary
of our first engagement, and I
suppose is the most likely date
of our marriage; if not then it
will wait till fall. I think
I shall be very happy in the
new life, because I know the
man I am to marry thoroughly
and I respect him even more
than I love him. But just
so surely as I break down
completely this winter, I shall
do as I did two years ago.
I hope and I think that in
course of time I shall conquer
my nervousness, and shall yet
be a strong woman able to
do good work in this world.
But if it turns out otherwise,
if my nerves conquer me, I
will never marry. For it has


always seemed to me a sin
for a woman to marry when
there is any reason why she
ought not to run any risk
of bringing children into the
world. I have improved vastly
since I was a child, I couldnt go
to school then, because I couldnt
control my hands and feet even.
But there is room for further improvement
when it makes my cheeks
burn and my pulse run up to
110 just to step into my class
room, and hear small classes
of boys recite algebra and geometry.
One of our teachers is about to be
married. Mr Jones is greatly
disturbed at losing her; he told
me this morning a [apropos?] of
doctors that I might take any
dose I chose, provided I [?]Miss Steela's alone. I almost
told him then that I was
afraid I should try that
remedy too; but there were
other people about, and I
forbore.
Prof. Bowne sent me what
I suppose you have alread sen,
"Some Difficulties of Modern Materialisms,"
from the "Princeton Review," I read
a few pages tonight. It is
delightfully pungent, and recalls
old times. Tomorrow I shall go
through it.
Goodnight, dear, you dont know
what a comfort you are,
With much love
E Putnam

Are you in a hurry for those 
Savage sermons? I am so miserable
that I dont often feel ""up to" reading


Nove 24, 1881, Phila
Dear Alice,
[It?] is Thursday
morning breakfast is just over,
and, unheard of wealth of hours, I
have four whole days on my hands
Mr Jones had business to attend
to out of town, and urged the
committee so earnestly that to our
great joy, school closed for the
week last night. One small boy
clapped his hands so frantically
at the announcement that
they seemed to tingle for hours
after, if one might judge by
the way he furtively gazed upon
and rubbed them.
Best of all, Lydia Dame will

[*discussion on the Utah question, I send you a part
of my brother's last letter. He has been in Utah only
four months, but
he is a bright boy
and has used his
eyes well.
Also, a propos of
cats, I enclose a
picture which mother
handed me with a
fiendish smile some days
ago and which has
[tormented?] me since
Most gladly would
I come home to be
squeezed but alas,
the time is not yet
come. Yet a little
more sleep, a little
more waking up to work
and I will be there and the
squeezing wont be all on one side either E. P.*]arrive this noon, and enliven
the city of brotherly love with
her presence for two or three
days. She and Miss Mitchell
are to be at the St Cloud only
a few squares away from me
until Sunday.
Much to my disgust, however,
my Brooklyn friend cannot
come. A newspaper office seems
to be busiest just when every
body else has holiday.
Well, I have reached the first
goal I set for myself, and Thanksgiving
has come. I shall try
to keep at work four weeks
more with what success remains
to be seen. You mustnt
worry about me, dear, for I've 
more staying power than
you know [of]. I'm not silly


or sinful enough to do myself
any real harm, and take
every precaution possible. Why, I
am so good an economist that
I have lost barely seven or 
eight of flesh in all my
disasters. The "double chin" I
have been so teased about, is
still visible. I lie down two or
three hours every afternoon, go
to bed early, and read nothing
but novels etc. My various efforts
are so far successful that I am
comparatively well on Saturdays and
Sundays but any troubles return
in full force before Monday is ended.
Well if I dont take myself in
hand for this nonsense, and grow
into a well woman one of these
days, yet, I am very much
mistaken.I have been trying an experiment
with the journals for two or three
weeks, by leaving them on the
library table with the Philadelphia
papers. I find now that if I
carry one off again, somebody
is sure to ask me for it, and
back it has to come. Our landlady
"used to live next-door to a
woman who took the Journal" and
seems glad of a chance to see it
again.
Have you read William Black's
"Sunrise"? That is my last
[s?] in the reading line
and, though the style is unquestionably
Black's, the whole idea and
object of the book is so different from
most of his writings that it has
been quite a surprise to me.
[Knowin] Remembering our [red?]


Phila. etc. Nov. 13, 1881.
Dear Alice;
I began a 
letter to you last Tuesday, but
was interrupted on the first page
and never found time to
finish it.
I am sorry about M. J. from
one point of view and glad from
another. It is distressing to find
out that a man whom you
supposed to [thro???ghly] in earnest
is after all thinking chiefly of his
insignificant self: but after all if
that man was on the wrong side
there is comfort in the thought [that]
he will do less harm than
not even an "informal activity"
will accomplish much if the
actor isnt heart and soul in earnest.
I shant believe that a man often
makes a permanent impression
who hasnt given himself to his work
and then forgotten that he had a
self to give.
Posturing and attitudinizing are sure
to be detected; it is only the
genuine man who is to feared
as a foe or wanted for a friend.
Well, I hope I shall fall in with
the wild beast, and view his claws
and his fangs for myself.
Mrs Barleigh called upon us yesterday.
I like her very much. She shook
her head over me dubiously, and
said I might possibly win the day
if I kept at work all winter, but
that she shouldnt advise me to try.


I've had a bad week, the last three
days of it were martyrdom almost, and
I went to bed Friday night half
fearing that it would be sometime
before I got up again. Today has
been warm and sunny, and
we have been out to Fairmount
Park. The sky was as blue as [June?],
the yellow leaves were dancing about
in the sunshine, and the black
crows were holding a conference.
It has done me ever so much
good and I am going back
to school tomorrow. I am absolutely
determined to teach till Thanksgiving,
and I hope to keep on until
Christmas. I have little or no
thought of staying beyond that time.
It is very possible of course, but
I do not expect it. I sleep
much better than I did, seldomhave more than one wakeful
night in the week; Thursday
or Friday night I seldom sleep much
but during the rest of the week
from two to five hours is the usual
allowance. I've gained a
decided advantage there, but it seems
to be too late. The second week
of my teaching I began to have
a kind of dysentery that has never
left me for more than a single
day at a time since. It is that
which has taken my strength away
so fast, I think I am well
enough now. I have worked
hard to regain self control, and have
succeeded. I get [ni?] sleep every
week, but it doesnt do much good
so long as the other trouble lasts-
That comes from the nervous 
system too, I suppose, but unfortunately



isnt so easily controlled. It is
wholly painless, but leaves me
so weak that the effort of teaching
my classes is all but unendurable.
The poor boys would be horrified,
if they knew how I stand at the
window, and watch them at recess
and count how many minutes it
will be before they will be in
upon me. They are grand, good
boys for the most part, but I
dread them as if they were wild
beasts: because I know they will
come in eager and active and
full of questions about the lesson,
and that I shall have to explain
and amplify and simplify, until
the words will barely come for
weariness.
What dreadful thing do you suppose

I did Friday? I hearded the
lion in his den, the [Douglas?] in
his hall, and dissected a kitten
before my Physiology class. The
boys were greatly interested, and
some of them thanked me after
class for the lesson; but what do
you imagine Mr J. will say
when he hears of it? The small
boys of the school got wind of the
marvel before school was out and
as is the way of small boys made
much capital of it, I expect to
be a bugbear to them in future,
I meant to send Prof. B. a note
before this to acknowledge the
receipt of his article, hope I shall get
it done tonight, but feel doubtful.
I have read it carefully twice
and enjoyed it hugely. He at
least means what he says, and


I glory in his zeal. Its a
grand thing to be in earnest-
enthusiasts are the only people I
envy.
I have a faint hope that John
will come to spend Thanksgiving
with me, but it is only a faint
hope. Newspaper men dont
find it easy to get a day off.
Emma Atkinson sent me a card
this week, and I expect a letter
soon. The ring she wears I
suppose is the same that hung
from her watch chain all summer
and last year. She told me
its story at Bass Rocks one day,
and I've no doubt she will
some time tell you. She is a good
girl, isnt she? I like her
thoroughly. I should like
to write to Cadges, must so do someday. Remember me to her when
you send a letter.
If I so come home at Christmas,
it will be a great consolation in
my failure that I shall see you
again, I miss you so very much
my friend.
With love
E Putnam


1312 Filbert st. Phila. Dec. 29. 1881

Dear Friend
I should like to know of
the welfare of your friend, Miss
Putnam.
The last time I saw her
was about the middle of Nov.
when I went to the school house
- just before time for opening-
to ask her + her mother to meet
some friends at our house a
few days later.
Then she seemed to be in
comfortable condition, + said
they would come, if she finished
her school work in time.
I have never since seen her,
or heard from her.
Last Sunday I went toabsolved from what in other cases would be required.
I only regret that she was unable to carry out
her design. She impressed me pleasantly, +
for her own sake, singly, I should have been
glad to lessen her burden by a feather's weight.
With love to your mother,
Your friend,
M. J. Burleigh


her boarding house, to learn
of her welfare, to carry some
little Christmas gifts + to
invite them to our house
during this, holiday, week.
The girl who opened the
door, told me, she was not
well, and that she + her
mother had left Phila. to
return no more.
As her manner of speaking
on this last point was not
such as to inspire me with
confidence in her knowledge,
I have written to you to ask
what is really the state of the
case.
Do not understand me as complaining
of deficiency on Miss
Putnam's part. Persons in her
state of health are rightlyE O Putnam

Phila. Dec. 18. 1881.
Dear Alice;
It is definitely
settled now that I leave
Phila. next Friday. We expect
now to take the Fall River
line from NY Friday night
and reach Boston Saturday
morning. I consulted a new
doctor [I] on Thursday, and
he encouraged me to  think
that I should be myself again
very shortly if I submitted
to a complete rest. Otherwise
it might prove serious, more
or less.I have much to do, and
in the near prospect of
seeing you have little
patience to write.
I enclose a slip cut from
the Phila. "Ledger", an eminently
respectable morning paper of
this city. Isnt this a nice place
where they advertise publicly
for proposals for the bar 
at a dance?
I have seen Marion's translation,
it was sent to me by her, I suppose,
though she hasnt written to me
once this fall.
In haste, but very affectionately
E Putnam


Phila. Dec 4, 1881.
My dear Alice;
This has been
essentially a lazy day with me.
I rose at 12 30, leisurely ate
a little dinner, as leisurely sat
down to write, and have expended
some two hours in writing a
three page note. My energies
are at a low ebb you will
perceive. Yes I have read
"Madame La Lour" I think it is
much more effective than if it
were a better told story. If the
object were to make a good
piece of literary workmanship, two
books or perhaps three could
be made out of the same
material and the materialwould show to better effect.
But as a blow against Mormonism
it will do better work as it is
because the author has evidently
taken no pains at all to elaborate
her plot or [set out] dress up her tale
to the best advantage, but tells
every thing in a condensed, crowded
way, as if she had ten thousand
other facts struggling for utterance.
Do you exchange with the
"Desert"? Bertie sends it to
us sometimes.
I had a letter this week from
John Heaton's mother. I know I
have told you that the family
dont like me very well, and
so you can judge how much
surprised and pleased I was
to hear from her.
She urged me to stop teaching, and
asked me to come to stay
with her for a time


then pretty well two more
I have given up all idea of
teaching next term; not because
I am alarmed about myself,
for I  am not in the least,
I know that I shall be perfectly
well after a little rest; but
I see no prospect of getting
well without the rest, and
to live all winter in the state
of the last three months would
be more than my philosophy
is equal to. I hope I can find
something to do by March. I
shall interview Prof. Buck as soon
as I get home. I expect now
to shake off the dust, or snows,
of Phila. on Friday the 23rd.
It is possible, however, that, if
Mr J. does not succeed in finding
a substitute, I may stay
through the holidays and
teach until Jan 7. I am growing

[*impatient to see you now that [the] time is so
short. The next three weeks look interminable, but*]I shant go to Canton before
next summer, if I do then, but
the letter was so kind that it
has taken a great weight off
my mind.
Well I have just three weeks
more to teach before Christmas.
I may be at home before
that time, but hope to last the term
out. My troubles have taken a
slightly different turn, which
I hardly know whether to consider
an improvement or not.
Heretofore my enemy has made
its appearance at about eight
A M and stayed with me till
twelve or one. Now a days it
afflicts me for about two days
and a half continuously and then
goes away entirely for three or
four days. The result is that
instead of feeling a little miserable
all the time, I am utterly wretched
two days then tired out two, and

[*they will pass as all weeks do.
Lovingly E O P*]


Wilbraham, Sept. 25, '81.
Dear Alice
Your Annisquam
reminiscences were very delightful.
The candy peel scene 
very vividly pictured.
Was glad to hear of you as
on the paper. I can [feel?] you
among the poems stories
and the book notices are
decidedly jolly. In last
week's [Tim's?] Herald I [found?]
Our Brothers in Black
reviewed by E. P. Mayer
of Atlanta, where Ella's sister

[*well: I hope I shall be
worthy of your [friendship?]
some  day. I'll try.
Write to me when
you can. Please don't
answer any blue
talk there may be
here. It is a relief
to talk sometimes
but it must [both] be
remembered
[might] I [come] see you
for a night or a day
[must?] yo yet suffer
with a great deal
of love. Ever yours
Leila.*]teaches. I [th't?] if I confessed
my incipient [?ry]
to you, would work the
most effectual cure
I enjoyed your lecture
+ when the bundle of [track?]
 petition came I clapped
on my hat started for the
blacksmith shop of our Rep,
who is also an assessor
+ he promised me a tax-bill.
I presume if I had
the chance to go out I
might persuade some one
or two to go to the polls,
but the last time I
went to [S. P.?] I interviewed
one woman on the subject
I knew she had registered
but never voted.
She said she would
go if she could get her


husband enough interested
to bring her up to to town-meeting.
The live a long
way down street.
But Mother's increasing
feebleness keeps me very 
closely confined to the house
the necessary work is
considerable, + Mother needs
more care, + must not be
left alone. The necessary
errands to store + P. O. are
all I can find a chance
to do outside. I am afraid
I shall not be able [to?] do
much with the petitions.
I have thought that
Mother would surely
gain after "dog-days," were
over, but I think she fails
instead. I am alone with
her, + her physician is in [trenton?]
I write to him every day or
two about her. He will
come up when he can leave
Of course with the prospect before
me I have not much enthusiasm
for church or state
affairs For a week past
I seem to have been [that?] the
very valley of the shadows of
death. I suppose it was
the shadow before is often
more terrible than the actual
presence of the storm itself.
The terrific loneliness is
not the least trying part of
it. I have one dear little
neighbor - a young married
lady, an old class-mate here,
who is very kind + comes in
every day, but she knows nothing
about sickness. It is very
difficult, almost impossible


to get help of any kind
even when people are
sick + suffering for it.
Thurs. I had a woman to help
clean house, but [heat] two
carpets myself.
Had a letter from Hattie
recently. Am glad she has
so good a position. Did she
write you about the small
boy who "was glad that at
last they had got a teacher
who was handsome?"
Has Ella gone [South?] + where
is she? What is Eliza Putnam's
address? If you really think
she would like it, I'll write to her.
but I am afraid it would be more
of a pleasure to me than a
satisfaction to her. I always admired + loved her.
This has been a hot day forthe 25th of Sept. The leaves
are turning yellow + our front
yard is covered with butternuts
+ their brown leaves.
A strong S. W. wind reminds [me?]
of Bryant's poems. Did not
go to church, but listened to the
singing at home. Have been
reading Dr. Butler's account of
the Sepoy Rebellion in "Lands of the
Veda" It don't seem much to
be a missionary now in
comparison to twenty-five
years ago.
Your copy of Duties of Women
is going the rounds. Seems to
take, as of course it must
How I should like to read your
war with Mr. Savage. Good
for you!
The papers you sent up
were very nice. I like the


"Golden Rule" the Journal
is a great temptation to me.
It comes Sat. A. M. at 9, +
the impulse to let dishes + baking
go until I have been [thro?] it
is almost irresistible 
Did I ever tell you how I became
a convert to woman  suffrage?
It was not from very deep
conviction - indeed I'm afraid
I have not yet been fully
sanctified in the faith.
My father never said much
about it, but he brought me
up with the [same?] justice +
privileges that my brother had.
He always made me feel that I
was an equal. I grew into an
independent spirit, but thought
 Suffrage abominable + as for the
Woman's Journal I wouldn't 
have touched it with a pairof tongs. One day it came to me
like a flash - what argument
against it did I ever hear that I
would accept as sound, + I
could not remember or make
one. Whereupon I decided to be
a believer. Then a friend who
took the Journal used to lend
it to me, + when she went off
in the summer left her papers
for me to read. Of course I could
not do without it after I'd once
learned to like it - or rather,
once began to read it.
The rest you + your Mother
are doing. More than that
making me try to be less of a
moral coward. Do you know
how I idolize that Mother of
yours? Her picture here on
the mantel puts heart into
me twenty times a day.


Easthampton, Dec. 4 '81

Dear Alice,
I read your letter
+ was glad to re-read it so you
may know it was an agreeable
exception. You old
darling! I wish there were
more in the world of just
your sort + degree of "useless"
As to the comfort you speak of,
I feel about my parents as
you would about yours
that they have fought a
good fight+ [were] are at rest.
I feel that they are happy +

I suppose my
Woman's Journal
has run out, +
I'll send an order
along. How are
your Father + Mother
+ how are you +
the girls in general
When you write, if you've
not forgotten, tell
me about May Haver's
wedding.
With love + a kiss
Leilatogether. But as to any
actual comfort in religious
faith I have little of the
faith, less of the comfort.
The world is empty, & I am
alone & cold in it is almost all
I can feel. I don't think
much about it. I was worn
to the quick with loneliness
& anxiety & watching Rom as
possible came up here to my
cousin Antoinette, a lady
some over forty who has
known sorrow & who is a
sweet, graceful loving little
woman,  whom I almost
worship. She is all that is
left that is like Mother.
She comforts & helps me


but the wild in me comes 
to the surface if she is out
of sight a moment. I
tire her all out I fear, but
it seems as tho' I c'd never
leave her.
I shall not stay in W
alone. I would not stay there
at all, if it were not for my
brother. I think I shall try to
find a school in the Spring &
go to teaching. Can form no
plans & am not fit for much
of anything. A country school
would support me & keep
me straight until I can get
used to things, & know what
I can do & what I want to do
Am taking rest in diversion
here. Am in a pleasanthome life - a jolly father
a sweet brother + a
jolly daughter about twenty
We have good times days
+ I play euchre or read aloud
evenings. Shall go to the
real country before long
+ visit my uncles for a while.
Please write to me
when you can. Send
your letter to Wilbraham
My sweetheart there
forwards them
Rec'd the W. D. Petition from
your Mother, but can't
do anything with it before
the beginning of the year, + not
much then, probably, for I
don't know how things will be
at home. Please tell her &
[not?] drop me till next year,