Hedding, N. H.
August 12, 1907.Dear Friend Carrie,
When your dear, long letter came you were writing of snow storms and today is one of the warmest of August days. It is refreshing to think of you on your snow shoes. I have long wished for some of my own. Last winter was snowy enough to give time for a long series of lessons.
You mentioned too your making a study of winter birds. You know I never knew anything about birds. This summer, however, we had a wood pewee's nest on one of our piazza pillars giving us excellent opportunity for watching the rearing of the young. We have seen rose-breasted grosbeaks, blue-hooded vireos, catbirds, a scarlet tanager and an oven bird. Your eyes would have discovered more, but these were more than I had noticed before. I have looked over the "Field Book of Wild Birds and Their Music". It must be very interesting when one is really studying birds.
I was glad to hear through you of Jennie Friend and Mary Davis. Jennie is a wonderful girl and as you say must be strong to do so much work.
You must have enjoyed seeing "Ben Hur" played. I have wished to see it, for I so liked the book. I have never forgotten how well Albert Melvin gave the Chariot Race at prize speaking one year at P. A. [Pinkerton Academy]
When I was in Newburyport for a few days before coming here I went to a beautiful garden play, "The Romancers". It was very amusing but more than that exceedingly beautiful, being given by young people of Newburyport in a perfect garden back of one of the old mansions on High Street. The dancing of an old-fashioned minuet was charming and a revelation of beauty and grace to me, for you know I have not been accustomed to dancing of any kind. There was no stage except the green grass and beautiful shrubbery of the garden, though crimson curtains were hung on wires stretched between the trees.
It was greatly interesting to hear the story of Chester Richardson's absence and return. It is wonderful and I am so glad that at last all the uncertainty and loneliness are ended. I suppose that by this time Mabel has returned and met her favorite brother face to face in the flesh.
Perhaps you wonder that I am writing from Hedding. The explanation is the one so common with me for all my failures - my strength gave out. I knew for some weeks that I was becoming very tired and in May felt that I must give notice. After a little rest I went back for three weeks because they had not found anyone to take my place. At the end of that time I was just about exhausted and had to rest for ten days almost absolutely. Then I spent two days at Old Orchard. Have you ever been there? I think it very beautiful, both close to the water and up in the grove. From there we came to our wee cottage here at Hedding.
This is a good place for quiet rest, as there is very little excitement until the week of Camp-Meeting. I have gained about two pounds in flesh and much in strength and am beginning to feel a bit restless for office work again.
Mabel spent two weeks with us in July. Now she and Mr. Huse are in Union, N. H., where he spent most of the years of his boyhood. Mabel is very happy and very fond of singing her husband's praises when with mother and me.
A week ago today we were in Atkinson, N. H. where I was born so many, many years ago. The views from the hills are certainly very good to see and the hill breezes good to breathe. We walked up beyond the village to the highest part of Atkinson and there after feasting our eyes on distant prospects found as many as we two very greedy people could eat of most delicious, sweet blackberries besides blueberries and huckleberries which we had to have for somebody else because of lack of stomach room and time for picking.
It has been very warm here for several days and last night mother moved her mattress out on top of the piazza and she slept out doors for the first time in her life. She is so enthusiastic today that I am thinking of trying the same plan tonight. The piazza is very small - just broad and long enough for two mattresses laid end to end. Mosquitoes are seldom seen here this year, so it is a good season for such experimenting. Last year we seldom went out ungloved because mosquitoes were so hungry for our hands.
We have our usual small garden - just morning-glories, running beans, nasturtiums and a few sweet peas. None of them have blossomed yet, but they have grown to the top of the piazza and form a pleasant screen for our lounging corner where I am writing now.
Two teachers live in the second house below ours. They showed me last evening their pet toad. He comes and sleeps every night under the head of their piazza couch. He lay at first on the bare floor in the corner, but they have given him some pine needles and dry leaves - a bed which seems very much to his liking as he comes to it regularly.
One of the teachers, Miss Dolloff, lent me last evening a book called "Insect Folk" written in very simple style for children. I picked it up last night just before going to bed and thought it wise to lay it down before long. You know I am inclined to shudder or scream if a spider or miller or worm chooses me for a highway and I do not believe I shall wholly enjoy this new study. (Strangely enough, just at this moment a "daddy long-legs" had to have my attention and be knocked down to the ground).
There are a great many children near us this season. It is seldom that I am able to sit here so long without stopping in whatever I am doing to watch either a quarrel or a bit of child play. The pump in front of the house is especially fascinating to all the small people and mammas here on the hill are kept busy calling their thirsty children home. Two of the smallest drink from the horse tub in spite of maternal injunctions, not being able to pump for themselves.
I have made my gymnasium suit into a bathing suit and am wondering whether I shall get up sufficient courage to bathe in the shallow, little river. It is not very attractive to me, yet many girls go there.
My first long walk I took Saturday just at sunset. The road was very lonely and I was glad to have company. There were two deserted farms on our way and a very much neglected, thiny old cemetery. It was pretty and did not seem sad to me in spite of the neglect.
I wonder how you all are and where you are this summer. Are you still gaining? I hope that you are entirely well.
I wonder where Mr. Russell is. It pleases me unusually whenever I think of Helen and Harry. I am an old maid myself but I do love to know that the right young people are feeling the joy of true love and are swelling the number of happy homes.
Please forgive me for waiting so long before answering your letter. I don't know why I did it unless it was because I had planned to write a long letter and never felt equal to it when work was done.
Let me ask you before closing whether your store of Christmas books included "The Lapidaries" by a Mrs. Cheney. I read it a few weeks ago and it has been such a help though perhaps not remarkable as a work of literary genius.
My love to friends in your home and town and much for you, dear friend and chum.
Your friend,
Ridgie.Mother is unusually well this summer. She wishes to send her love with mine. She too is writing a letter this afternoon.