Newbury, Mass.
May 12, 1905.
My dear friend,The days have been pleasant in many ways since I reached Newburyport, but I have missed you more than I had thought possible. I find that South Hadley was dearer than Newbury, and that there is no girl here who delights me so completely as my gentle Carrie, of whom I think every day.
I do not remember whether I wrote Mary about my visit to the doctor. She assured me that it was the only thing to come away for immediate rest, or I should be more homesick than I am. It is a comfort to know that my leaving was wise. Mother writes me that Miss Stevens has help for the present.
Since coming here I have seen many Forsythia bushes, and have one promised me. It is queer that I do not remember having seen one until I saw the one near Williston.
This morning my cousin Annie and I took a walk down on the marsh. Besides seeing and hearing birds in great numbers we found wood anemones, pedate violets, shad bush, jacks-in-the-pulpit, and white violets. When we came back, I was as hungry as a bear is popularly supposed to be, and we feasted on freshly-baked buns. Annie shows me the male and the female blossoms on various trees, tells me the names of the birds, and gives me bits of local history as we walk, all of which is very entertaining to an ignoramus like myself. We saw a pair of Maryland Yellow-Throats, which I thought dear little birds.
Mabel wrote yesterday that she is going to visit at the Deaconess Home in Boston next week and attend the Commencement exercises of the Training School. That will make it necessary for me to postpone my one-day visit to Dover until May 22.
Perhaps I wrote to Mary about the two weeks of evangelistic services being held here. All the churches in Newburyport unite every evening except Saturday. I have been every night so far, and am glad I could be here while so much unity and earnestness is manifest. The evangelist said last night that we never questioned whether it would be tactful to greet an acquaintance with, "How are you?" or to ask, "How is your family?" Why should it be any more startling to say kindly, "How is it with your soul, my brother?" He thinks we have so much tact that we do not come in contact, and that judiciousness is usually a more pleasing term for cowardice. I know you would rejoice at many of the remarkable stories he tells of souls brought into the Kingdom.
I wrote to Helen a few days ago. There was no excuse for further procrastination.
How beautiful Prospect Hill must be now! I wonder whether the apple trees near the Stevens house are in blossom yet. The trees are quite full here.
This year is nearly ended, and it is rather late to wish you pleasant days until the end, but I do wish you much joy and strength and a safe, glad home-coming.
If you have time, please write about the good times in Rooms 3 and 39.
With much love,
Clare.I cannot remember your middle initial, but hope there is not another Carrie Gowing in college.
Lovingly,
C.M.R.