Pleasant Corners Ill’s.

March 9 1866

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Dear Brother

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I often feel guilty of neglect in not oftener writing to you and each time think I will not let so many months slip away again without writing but as often find my resolutions of amendment in that respect unfulfilled. I should not blame you if you regarded it as evidence that I think or care but little for you, but I trust your own heart will suggest the milder excuse of pressing daily duties. Indeed when one has a family of little ones to care for, all their wants to be met with one pair of hands there is little leisure either for writing or reading. Since I wrote you last a little daughter has been added to our family group and of course my labor is not lessened. Sarah Bertha as we call her required a good deal of care the first four or five months of her life; since that she has been improving and now sits alone and begins to creep so that she amuses herself considerably; she is nine months old. We have now three young minds to cultivate and develop and three young hearts to train for God and heaven: may wisdom and grace be given as we need. We have had quite a moderate winter here excepting a few cold snaps when for a day or two it would be extremely cold but the snaps were of short duration and followed by mild pleasant weather again.

I expect you sometimes get letters from home and are probably informed that Lucius is married and has a little son. They expect to leave the old home this spring as the owners ask such high rent they think it won’t pay to rent it. I was in hopes they could stay on it during ma’s life but it makes their work so much harder and then the high rent besides that they think it best to give it up. I hope mother will come west this summer to visit her western children. Elvira thought of going back east this spring but has not yet decided. She is working in a tailor’s shop in Polo and gets $5.00 per week, which is much better than she could do at housework besides not having to work so many hours. 

Ade and her family were well the last I heard. I hope to make them a visit some time this spring. How much I wish that you could come home this year. Why can’t you? Are you not satisfied with wandering and could you not be contented to become a fixture in some civilized community like common folks? No doubt there are some pleasures in a roving life; some excitement and pleasure in new scenes but are they sufficient to balance all the discomforts of such a life? I feel anxious that you should come home while mother lives and she is getting old and feeble: it is not probable that she will be spared to us many years longer if *she is months.

Elvira brought me your Photograph last summer taken from the daguerreotype: I often look at it and it brings you back to memory as you were that summer that we lived together in Franklin. Maria Waterbury, you and I. How pleasantly the weeks sped away. I sometimes think of it now and wish that I had realized then how happy we were; but I believe I never fully comprehend the blessings of the passing moments. The flying moments are somewhat like the clouds, when directly overhead they cast a shadow over us but when they have floated away they reflect the suns light and are sometimes spanned with rainbow hues. I sometimes feel sad when I look back upon those golden days of youth and happiness, to think how much better I might have improved my time than I did. I don’t know so I could have made very much greater intellectual attainments, but I know I might have been more diligent in doing good to my school mates and friends if I had kept it before me as the one object worth more than all others to lead the hearts of all so far as my influence extended to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world. I would that I might learn henceforth to improve every opportunity and so live that my influence might all be right.

How thankful we should be that our country once more rests in peace and how doubly thankful that our Heavenly Father is distilling the dews of his grace in so many parts of our land; nearly every paper gives accounts of revivals in many places, may they extend and increase until our whole people become impressed with the great truths of God’s word and convinced of sin are led to yield their proud and stubborn hearts and rejoice in Jesus, as their only hope and Savior. 

I know not what your views and feelings are upon this most important subject but I often think of you and much as I wish to see you I think I would be content could I but know that you were a true christian; for then I should feel sure that your life wherever spent would not be in vain, but that the energies which you have devoted to worldly business would henceforth be concentrated to the one true aim of life, winning our fellow being to walk with us the narrow way that leadeth to life everlasting.

My letter may seem dull to you but I have no news to write. Our neighbours are all strangers to you, consequently you would not feel interested in our neighbourhood affairs. I hear so seldom and so little from George and home that I can not tell you much about then. Two young men from this neighbourhood who have been living in Oregon some 7 or 8 years past returned home last fall their place of residence most of the time was Portland but probably you never met them. Their name is Eaton.

Several weeks have slipped away since I commenced this sheet and now it is near the last of March. We have had quite a snow storm and a touch of winter this week but today seems spring like again.

Write to me soon will you not? And Above all else will you not yield your heart to Jesus and become a christian? We all as a family send much love to the brother and uncle far away.

Your sister Mary

 

James has been teaching school through the winter: will probably farm some and preach some during the summer.