West Newbury, Mass.
June 10, 1905.
Dear Carrie,The beautiful forget-me-nots came to me this morning, and I should not have blamed you had you sent them as a rebuke. The truth is, however, that I have had you in mind day after day, always with thankfulness for the days we spent together and with real desire to answer the dear, long letter that was and is such a pleasure to me.
My time is no longer my own in any sense, for I am attendant now to an aunt who is nearly blind, and though my work is not laborious, I cannot write my own letters while calling or driving with my patient or while reading to her or sewing for her or walking with her. I never found it so hard to get a minute to myself. All this does not mean that I do not enjoy my days, but I tell it to show you why my correspondence has been stopped or delayed.
The forget-me-nots kept wonderfully fresh during their journey, and next to picking them with you, I enjoyed receiving them from you.
At just about the time I received your letter, I too was watching the oak leaves in their baby pinkiness and daintiness, and, like you, had seen a golden robin in the russet tree near the parlor window.
I wish I could inspect your changed room. I would give you my valuable opinion on all attempts at improvement. I think it was pleasant to have the couches near the windows in summer.
It has been very warm here to-day, but we have had many cold days and several frosts since I came home. It is so much damper here than in South Hadley that my throat troubled me for some time after I returned. It is all right now.
Thank you for writing so many Derry items. I hope you can be at the P.A. [Pinkerton Academy] Commencement. I shall try to be, but am not positively certain about it yet.
The honors went to girls who richly deserved them, I think. Once more the boys are left out.
I was glad to hear that your mother was better. Grandma is much interested in you all. She says she remembers your aunt very well indeed, and she seems quite content that it is a Hudson girl whom I admire so much.
I have not read the books by George Eliot which you mentioned. Her writings are interesting, I think. I read now only what my aunt wishes to hear, and she does not care often to hear a story.
You have decided by this time, I suppose, about your room for next year. I think that Pearson's would be very conveniently situated and quite pleasant.
I suppose the new Library is almost completed by this time.
Mabel visited me not very long ago. I gave her your love, which pleased her. She is tired, but enthusiastic. Her vacation begins July 1st, and she will have a month or more according to her need of rest. We hope to go to Hedding [?[ about the middle of July.
The class letter reached me for the second time two weeks ago. It was very interesting, and full of longings for a class reunion. The school-teachers seem wonderfully successful. Esther Palmer wrote that there were only two boys at the Plymouth Normal School. I pity them.
Mother wrote me about your coming to see her and to get her out. You were good, and she enjoyed it so much. She wrote to me a few days ago and told me that the Stevens family would have twenty-four table boarders Commencement week. What a time they will have!
Have you seen the girl who takes my place? Mother likes her as a room-mate.
I am much better, and have gained a pound or two, I think.
I went to Boston two weeks ago and spent three days with my aunt. We saw the parade of the Knights Templar, made a flying trip to the Public Library, King's Chapel, Edward Everett Hale's church, and longer trips to the great department stores and to the oculist's. I enjoyed almost every minute.
One day I went to Atkinson, N.H. where I was born. It is a drive of twelve miles over beautiful, quiet country roads. The house in which I was born is for sale, and I wish I could buy it. The view from it is delightful. One can look down on one or two towns and far away almost down to the ocean. I like such high land and so many pines.
One pleasure I forgot to tell you about. While in Boston I went over Gims [?] and Co's office building on the site of the old John Hancock house. The wood carving is rarely beautiful, and the halls are especially stately, as you may know for yourself. I also met Miss Sara Wiltse [?], who wrote the story "A Brave Baby," which is quite well known. She was very pleasant, and told me about her club of forty Jewish girls in Boston. She says she admires her girls and loves them with all her heart.
Do you ever see Miss Dixon now? I liked her very much, but have forgotten to ask Mother about her well-being since I left.
Aunt Sarah just came to have me study the S. S. lesson for to-morrow, so I must not write much more.
A little French coolie [sic] dog came to us last Wednesday - a real pet. We could find no owner, so have given her to the minister for his crippled brother. She loves to be held and talked to, and he enjoys her company during the long hours in his wheel chair.
How are Mary and Edith? Please give them my love. I hope none of you will become very weary during these last days at college. There will be much to enjoy.
With a great deal of love and very many thanks for letter and flowers,
Your friend,
Clara M. Ridgway.