Sidney 22 1871

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Dear Son

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I received a very welcome letter from you a few days ago saying you are well. I am enjoying as good health as one can reasonably expect at my age, four score and four years I have lived in this world. I am left alone of all my father’s family, brothers and sisters all gone, and I must soon follow them to my long home. Very likely those few lines will be the last you will ever receive written with my trembling hand. I am feeble, eyes dim, and head dull. I have forgot almost everything that I ever did know but I have not forgot my wandering son but I have given up the expectation of ever seeing him again in this world but I will not give up the hopes of meeting you in Heaven. Dear Whitfield have you made your peace with God, have you accepted the Lord Jesus Christ for your Savior and Redeemer to save your undying soul from all sin. If you have not I beg of you begin this day to search the scriptures earnestly and I think you will soon be convinced of truth that you must be born again and your sins forgiven to prepare your undying soul to live in heaven. I hope you will think of these things in your lonely hours and make haste to secure your soul’s salvation and become a faithful follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, a faithful laborer in the Lord’s vinyard that you may do good in the world and be prepared to dwell at God’s right hand in Heaven. Such is my best wish and shall be my daily prayer while I am blest with life and reason. I can’t tell you much outside the old red house for I don’t get out among folks at all so of course can’t see nor hear what is going on. This neighborhood has changed inhabitants so there is but one or two families left between here and the bridge that was here when you left home but the change has not been for the better either in morals or respect. Between here and Wells bridge there are a few of the old inhabitants left, even Houghton lives where he did and some of the Frenches and John and Henry Williams live where they did. Harriet Murwin and her boys live where they have. I suppose you know Barlow is dead, Harriet is sick with a cancer. We are here in the old house yet. Tempe is here, says she won’t leave me while I live but I often think I may outlive her. Her health is not good and she works hard. Minerva has never enjoyed good health since she has lived in our family. Lucius is growing old pretty fast. They have two children, George four years old and a boy baby a few days old. Five years ago when Lucius left the old homestead he was going to build next year but he haint got nearer to it. Its next year yet it is not because he is so poor he can’t build but don’t get ready. He sometimes talks of selling his farm and building in the village but its a dull time to sell farms just now so I expect to spend my few last days where I am. I sometimes think if you lived within one thousand miles from here and a railroad all the way and lived alone as you do now Tempe would go and keep house for you and take me along for company if you would accept of us. She often says she would go to see you if she had the means but I am too old to build castles in the air, but I can’t feel exactly reconciled to your settling for life on British soil. If you was any where in the United States ever so far from settlements I should expect you would soon have neighbors, a town or a City where there would be society good and bad, churches and sunday schools, so if one felt disposed to do something towards building up good moral community they could do so by precept and example. If you could see Otego now you would hardly know the place. They have five churches, two taverns, rumholes I don’t know how many a deep, for cars a railroad direct to Albany with ten trains every day except sunday, five east and five west and three times as many houses as was twenty years ago.

 

from your old affectionate

Mother