Erected 1661
]
New York, July 30, 1804.
I received your letter, my Dearest Mother, three days since, and every
moment of my time and attention since has been taken up with our dear
Eliza. I am grieved that you are so low-spirited about her, tho’ as
you predicted her trouble has again ended, I yet feel confident if we
once get her home, that she will gain strength and do well. Her
Physician has been in great hopes that she would get through this time
without any difficulty, indeed the first week we were in the country
she was so finely, that we all felt encouraged about her. She had been
as prudent as possible, and she can’t with any reason reflect upon
herself. The last week we were there she began to droop again, and Mr.
Bowne brought her into town with an intention of carrying her to
Flushing; now we shall set off for home as soon as she is strong
enough to travel. I am astonished at her spirits, they are as good
again as mine, and yet to-day she is so much better. I feel finely
myself.
She has had no pain, but only suffers from weakness. We shall go in
three or four days to Flushing, which is a fine, bracing air, and stay
there a few days till Eliza is smart enough to travel 10 miles a day.
I place full confidence in this journey; I am sure that the change of
air and scene, and more than all, the prospect of home, will render it
truly beneficial. We are at Mr. Bowne’s mother’s, for we have shut our
house up. She is a fine old lady, and Caroline is perfectly amiable
and as attentive as possible. I am very glad we are here and in the
neighborhood of Mrs. Bogert, for she is all goodness. I grow more and
more anxious every hour to get home. The city is quite deserted,
though it never was more healthy. There are as few deaths as there
were in the winter. There has been two weeks of _very cool_ weather. I
go wandering about and see scarcely a face I know. I used to complain
last winter of our large acquaintance, and having the house full of
company, but now I exclaim out half a dozen times a day that “I wished
I could see some one I knew.” There are gentlemen enough, but no
ladies. Uncle and Aunt, I suppose, have nearly set out for
Scarborough. I wish we were to be there whilst they are with you. You
can have no idea how very anxious I am to return. Was I not so much
occupied I should be positively _homesick_, but I have no time to
_think_ but upon one subject. Kiss the dear children for us _all_, for
we are equally anxious to see you. Remember me very affectionately to
Sister Boyd and to the children. Before I leave here I shall be in
need of a little money. I won’t seal my letter to-night, but will
write you how she is to-morrow.
July 31.
I did not finish my letter this morning because Eliza did not feel as
well as usual, but this afternoon she is better. She is in charming
spirits and so very well that we are delighted. She gives her best
love to you; says _she_ don’t feel _at all_ obliged to you for your
wishes, and is determined not to join with you. The old lady desires
to be remembered, and says,—“If thee was here, thee could do no more
for thy child than we have.” Indeed she is the most tender,
affectionate of women. My best love to my Father. We are in the full
of seeing you soon. I shall not make it long before I write again.
Yours affectionately,
O. SOUTHGATE.
June 3, 1805.
Dear Octavia:
Mamma arrived safe and well on Wednesday morning to our great joy,
after having a pleasant passage from Newport, staying two days in
Boston, two in Newport, and one in Providence. We are going to Uncle’s
to dine to-day, and I can’t persuade Miranda to write a line to let
you know Mamma had come,—company coming in every minute, and can but
just steal a moment to write. Louise is with you,—I am more than half
vexed that I am to be disappointed of the charming winter I had
promised myself, with you and Louise to spend it with me, so you need
not be surprised if I am rather ill-natured at times. The secret is
out, and all your friends, beaux I mean, walk the other side of the
street when I meet them. Mary Murray called this morning; seemed
rather disappointed at not having a letter. Eliza Watts thanks you for
the wedding-cake as well as myself. Give my best love to Louise as
well as all my other friends. We go over into Jersey to-morrow,—E.
Watts and Susan go with us,—John Wadsworth. I wish you could have been
here while Mamma was. Adieu; write me soon, and expect a longer letter
as soon as I can command a little more time.