The Morning Mail--A letter to Mrs. Cleveland--Strange Contents--Ida's
Letter Bag--Appeals for Money, for Clothing, and for her Hand--An
Original Letter from a Trapper.
_July 13_.
Going to the post-office for the morning mail is, I think, our greatest
daily pleasure. For some reason, we seldom have many letters by our
second mail, the 6.30 P.M. train, but in the morning our box is always
well filled, for we receive regularly the dear daily _Tribune_, six
weekly journals, and the leading magazines, and as we all have quite a
number of correspondents, we feel deeply aggrieved if our box is not
filled to repletion at least _once_ a day.
Ida, of course, is blessed with the greatest number of letters in the
family, for besides those from her own and her father's friends,
"The cry is, still they come!"
in shoals from unknown people of high and low degree, sometimes
containing merely poems, or expressions of sympathy and interest in the
sad history of our beautiful cousin, but varied occasionally by some of
the extraordinary appeals for help which I have already mentioned.
This morning I went down to the office when the mail came in. There
was the usual number of expectant faces--Miss Murray and Miss Cox in
their carriages, and our more rural neighbors standing about the
pigeon-hole; however, every one makes way for us in Chappaqua, and I
approached nearer, and asked for our letters. A very rough-looking man
standing near by, looked on with interest while the postmaster handed
out letter after letter, and finally said:
"You belong to the family, do you not?"
"Yes," I said, for I always answer the rustic salutations of the people
about here, knowing them to have had a sort of feudal attachment to
uncle.
"I thought a great deal of the old gentleman," he said with a rude
pathos in his voice that was very touching. "I used to see him very
often, for I live in these parts, and he always used to say
good-morning so pleasant, and was never ashamed to shake my dirty, hard
hand!"
This reminds me of a little incident that mamma related yesterday. She
was standing upon the balcony when an old gentleman who was driving
past, seeing mamma, stopped his horses, looked up and bowed, hesitated,
and then said:
"Excuse me, but is thee the sister of Horace Greeley that was?"
Mamma assented.
"I thought so," he said, "I saw it in thy countenance."
He then told mamma his name, and, after making a few remarks about
uncle that showed thoroughly good feeling, drove on.
It is not uncommon for those driving past to slacken their horses and
gaze earnestly at the house, and, if any of us are upon the piazza or
at the windows, they always bow--a mark of respect that is also shown
us by all the farmers and working people about here.
But I am forgetting Ida's letters. I brought her this morning as many
as six or eight, some of which were put up in yellow-brown envelopes,
and directed in very questionable chirography. In a few moments she
knocked at mamma's door and said,
"I have brought you a few letters from some of my extraordinary
correspondents, Aunt Esther."
"We will compare notes, my dear," said mamma, looking up from a
rose-colored sheet embellished with decidedly scrawly writing. "I have
just received one that is quite astounding."
"From Tennessee," said Ida, looking at the postmark. "I know the
writing; that man has sent me as many as half a dozen letters, wishing
to enter into correspondence. I suppose that finding me so
unresponsive he thinks he will try another member of the family."
"He comes to the point in a most emphatic manner this time," said
mamma, "by asking me for your hand; and as the letter is really a
curiosity in a literary point of view, I will read it to you." [1]
"NASHVILLE, TENN.
"MRS. JOHN F. CLEVELAND:--I reckon I am one of the spoilt children of
the South, similar to what Mr. Greeley says of South Carolina. I want
to Marry Miss Ida, because she is the daughter of the most powerful Man
that has yet appeared on the American Continent. Mr. Greeley turned
four millions of slaves loose with the Pen can't I win his daughter
with the same facile weapon? Now Mrs. Cleveland won't you help me? I
am not a Humbug, I have too many bullet holes through my body to be
classed with that tribe of insects. I begin to feel a little skittish
about my age, 35 and not yet Married. Yet I have always been rather a
fatalist and incline to Worship some star. The Greeks Worshiped the
sun, And moon under the Name of Isis and Osiris, but I am more like the
Arab look to the stars for something sublime and unchanging among all
the bright lights that hang and move in the firmament. The North Star
Appears to be the most important. The Axis on which our Earth daily
turns. The point from which all Mariners calculate their course in mid
ocean, and safely guides Them from continent to continent. Without the
North Star there would be no Magnetic Meridian by which Governments
could be surveyed and divided equitably to its inhabitants and
civilization would lose its strong hold in being based on Justice. If
there is any South Star that plays such an important part on this
continent or Europe I have never heard of it. Miss Ida is the North
Star made so by the fact her father was the great center around Which
The whole country swung. And As she is the oldest the crown of
greatness ought to rest on her head. And if she will Marry Me I will
do as hard fighting as Caesar did to put it there. With great respects
yours Truly
"------ ------."
This letter would have excited more astonishment than it did, had it
not been only a fair specimen of what Ida has been daily receiving
since her father's death. She then read us one from Indiana, addressed
to herself, and written, as the newspapers would say, with a view to
matrimony, but couched in quite a business-like strain:
"MISS IDA GREELEY:
"May I not surprise you by the fact that I desire an acquaintance with
you. I send you my photograph (which however is too light to be
perfect), hoping yours in return. If answered, I in my next will give
my age and history generally.
"Yours truly
"------ ------."
Another was from a widow with a son at college, who was very badly in
debt. The mother appealed to Ida as a lady of fortune and generosity,
and the only person to whom they could look for aid, to pay the son's
debts, "And," Ida added with mock indignation, "she does not even
promise that I shall be ultimately rewarded with the young man's hand."
A third was dated Illinois, and bore the sonorous signature of Greeley
Barnum M------. This epistle was extremely prolific, inasmuch as it
gave the occupations, ages, and a personal description of not only the
immediate members of the writer's family, but even extended to cousins
once or twice removed. He had also much to say about his name of
Greeley; sometimes he was proud of it, and sometimes the reverse,
according to the company he was in. Passing over all this prelude, we
discovered that Greeley Barnum M------'s object in writing was to
request a complete outfit for his sister who was about to go to school.
"You are a young Lady, Miss greeley," the writer touchingly said, "and
know everything that my sister would be likely to want." The clothes,
he kindly intimated, could be put up in a box, and sent by express,
prepaid; and having done so, Ida was requested to notify his sister and
also an uncle and aunt at some distant point, that they might not be
distressed by thinking their niece was going to school without a
suitable outfit.
The next letter that Ida took up was from a Kansas man, more modest in
his requests than the others, for he neither asked for her hand nor a
loan, but being anxious for self-improvement, solicited a little
assistance from her in that line. This letter was written in an even,
flowing hand, with very few mis-spelt words.
"WICHITA, KANSAS.
"MISS IDA GREELY:
"Well, here is another fool, will no doubt be the first thought that
will pass through your mind, and it is quite likely that you may in the
main be correct.
"I have a very high regard for all womankind. I have read so much
about your sympathetic nature, I thought perhaps our sympathies might
be mutual in some respects.
"I am always desirous of improving, and have heretofore looked to much
to persons no better qualified than myself to instruct or improve in
correspondence of any kind. Knowing that you are educated and refined
I apply to you as a perfect Gentleman for a small portion of your time
say one half-hour in four weeks as a time set aside to answer any
letter I might write, at same time corract misspell'd words etc. And
do it unreservedly. I am formerly from the east: come west less than
one year ago, have lost my wife, am thirty years old, and like you
without friends. In return for your favor I can write you a
description of this great Arkansas Valley and county beyond, of the
rapid growth of the country etc. which may in part repay you for your
trouble to please one lonely heart far from home. Will not give you
any description of Self or business unless I receive some answer but
will say that I am of good family, in good business, and doing well.
"With respect
"------ ------."
"Here is another letter that at all events is short," said Ida,
continuing to read:
"MISS GREELEY:
"For some years past your father very kindly gave me assistance during
three months of the year; if you can continue this, it will be a great
charity, as I am very much in need of it.
"Yours respectfully
"------ ------."
"Have you not yet exhausted your mail?" enquired Gabrielle.
"No," said Ida, "I have still two or three letters to read to Aunt
Esther. Here is one in which you will be interested, Gabrielle. The
writer calls you familiarly 'Elite': I think he must have read that
very accurate description of you that went the rounds of the papers
last summer, in which you remember you are a shy and shrinking
flaxen-haired fawn. He would be quite surprised, I think, if he could
see what a majestic 'Elite' you are."
"ALLEGHANY CO. PENN.
"_To whom it may concern_:
"Know ye that I have had a desire to know more about the Greeley girls
for several months, and that the desire for acquaintance became so
strong after meeting your father and sister a few nights since (while
sleeping) that I concluded to write.
"It seems to be Gabrielle's acquaintance I particularly desire, but she
being young and inexperienced I address you as her natural guardian,
allowing you to dispose of my communication as you think best.
"Being what some folks call an eccentric individual; feeling _lonely_
in the world, and believing, from what I know of the laws of Hereditary
Descent and your parents that you and your sister must possess the
noblest natures; and believing that no harm but good--_at least to
me_--can come from our acquaintance, I write to ask a correspondence.
"If you or 'Ellie' feel like sending a reply--well; if not, there shall
be no hard feelings, but it would be a satisfaction to me to know that
my letter had been received.
"Sincerely wishing you and all the world all happiness, I close.
Accept my warmest sympathy in your bereavement, and believe me to be
the friend of Humanity.
"VICTOR MELVIN.
"P.S. For reasons not necessary to mention, I write under an assumed
name. _Write_, PLEASE."
The next one was from Chicago, addressed to Miss ida greeley. The
writer said:
"I am about to pen you a few lines, hopeing you will not receive them
in a contemptious manner, but rather in a business than a formal way.
"Pleas to put the form of introduction and society regulations aside,
and consider your future happiness, pleasure and welfare only. I am
well aware that you are very much anoid and persecuted, thereby I mean
persistant attentions from undesirable persons; now my obgect at
present is to aid you in a manner that you can soon and forever shut
down on all disagreeable attentions.
"now I would suggest some beautiful locality in California or orogon
there to live a quiet retired life free from former acquaintances and
continnad anoyances. now if you think you could accept my services,
they are honorably tendered and would be kindly and heartily given.
Pleas to inform me at the earliest conveniance. Pleas to not
misinterpret my intentions.
"yours in sincerity
"pleas to
"Address -------- --------."
After listening to this extraordinary epistle, mamma said dryly:
"I think, my dear, that that is the strangest letter you have yet
received."
"It is nothing, auntie," was the reply, "to one I have in reserve, in
which the writer not only has a request to make, but actually proposes
making me a present; it is _not_, however, his hand, for a wonder!"
"DEERLODGE, MONTANA.
"To MISS IDA GREELY:
"Young lady I suppose you will be surprised at receiving a letter from
the frontier, my motive for writing is this. I am a mountaineer--that
is a trapper a good many years ago I met with your father Horace Greely
on the plains, and greatly admired the old gentleman. The way I came
to make his acquaintance is this. A drunken, unruly Cuss seeing that
your father appeared quiet and peaceable thought it safe to play the
bully at his expence so he commenced to insult and threaten Mr. Greely
in a pretty rough manner. Seeing that your father was quiet and
peaceable and did not wish to quarrel with the Cuss I took the Cuss in
hand, and spoiled his beauty for him, and taught him a lesson to mind
his own business. Mr. Greely greatly overated the trifleing service I
had done, he thanked me warmly, he became very friendly with me and
gave me good advice. Among other things he advised me to do was to get
a breach loading rifle instead of my muzlle loading rifle. I laughed
at the idea I supposed my old muzlle loader was the best. Since then I
have found out that Mr. Greely was right and that I was rong. Mr.
Greely at the time offered to purchase one and give it to me I refused
to accept it. He then told me any time I changed my mind to let him
know, and he would send me a good breech loading rifle. I have often
thought about it since, but never wrote to him. My reasons for writing
to you now are these; I and my partner Beaver Bob started down the
Yellow Stone last fall to trap near the Big Horn river. We were pretty
successful and made the Beaver mink martin and other vermin suffer--but
one day we were attaced by a hunting party of 15 or 20 Ogallala Sioux.
In the fight my old partner Beaver bob was wiped out I was wounded but
managed to make my escape and after a pretty hard time reached the
Mission on the head of the Yellow Stone--I mean near the head. I lost
my horses all my outfit in fact almost everything. When my ammunition
was expended--I mean used up--I threw my rifle away and took to the
brush and ran for it--I mean the chance of life. Lately I have heard
that Mr. Greely has handed in his chips--that is passed in his
checks--I mean gone to limbo you know. I'm sorry for the old man but
we must all go some time you know. and now miss what I want to know is
will you instead of your father send me a breech loading rifle. If you
do I shall be much obliged to you and if you don't I hope there is no
harm done. The kind of rifle I want is one of Sharps new improved
shooting rifles with a barrell 36 inches in length and a barrell 16
pound weight Calibre 44. They are mad in Sharps factory Connetticot in
a place called Hartford. If one was sent to me by Wells and Fargoes
express to Deerlodge city Montana Territory, I should get it. The name
or rather the nickname by which I am known among mountain men is Death
Rifle. The redskins I mean the Indians gave me that name many years in
Dacotah Territtory and it stuck to me ever since. My right name is
Hugh De Lacey so when you wish to adress or direct any thing to me
direct to Hugh De Lacey, Deerlodge City, Montana. Miss Greely a great
many eastern men we remarked seem to think that we mountaineers are to
blame for having trouble with the redskins I can assure you we never
bother the infernal vermin only when they bother us and that is pretty
often for when they get a chance to go for our hair they take it no
more at present I remain
"Yours respectfully
"HUGH DE LACEY.
"N.B. I have heard you eastern ladies are in the habit of useing a
deal of false hair in your toilets if you choose miss Greely I will
send you a lot of Indians hair any time you want it. I remain yours
respectfully
"HUGH DE LACEY."
"It reads like a chapter from one of Cooper's novels," said mamma, "and
the romantic name of Hugh De Lacey would be more appropriate to the
handsome young descendant of some old Huguenot refugee family than such
a rough trapper as your correspondent 'Death Rifle;' but the present he
offers you is most singularly inappropriate; no one who had ever seen
your wealth of hair, my child, would think of presenting you with a
chignon;" and as she spoke she loosened and shook out Ida's heavy
clusters of hair, which, released from their orderly Marguerite braids,
swept over her black dress like a tawny mantle.
[1] I insert this and the subsequent letters precisely as they are
written, merely withholding some of the signatures.