[No salutation, but written to Nellie Swift]It is the middle of the afternoon. I fancy you and Tillie have just come up from "trays" - perhaps she is favoring you with her society, thinking you may be lonesome without me. Now that I have located you "in my mind's eye", I'll situate myself. Lucy Fish - spoiled baby of genus Baker, situated at present in her own room; bounded on the north by her bed; on the east by a window overlooking "The Avenue" - a popular street for Sunday strollers; on the south by book-shelves containing a most motley collection; on the west by an expanse of room that would seem limitless at College. Now, mein Kind we can begin to talk.
As usual Henry's last letter contained a weather paragraph and as usual he begged to be "pardoned for the passing allusion", but I am so rejoiced to see blue skies again that I must remark about them and with no "Bitte un Verzeihung" [please and forgive me] either. The weather has been so dismal and is so heavenly to-day that it makes me feel like quite a different person. You've been afflicted in S. H. too, haven't you? I hope it has cleared off there also. If it has, I know how lovely everything is and how changed the Campus will be after supper with couples seeking "fellowship". Tell Sara that if I were there to-day I would be as horrid and unsocial to her as I was that last Sunday eve. when she had "a bone in her leg."
I shall be so glad when June 20th is gone because then it will really be vacation and I won't be so restless and uneasy and constantly regretting my lost time. If you and the other blessed girls were not so angelic and did not take so much of your precious time to write me frequently I don't know what would become of me. I shall never be able to repay this debt of loving-kindness to The Family, either collectively or individually. I've been awfully melancholy the last few days; but if the nice weather only continues this week I mean to brace up and behave myself.
It must seem funny to you New England girls to get letters on the new mail. I should think our little box would feel quite glad to be holding a letter postmarked "Jamestown" next Tuesday noon. Quite the old order of things. I've written to all The Family at last and tried to express my appreciation of their loving sympathy. [Lucy's father Charles Sheldon Baker died on May 12, which is the reason she is home earlier than her friends.] You've no idea what lots of beautiful letters I've had from College - they've been a wonderful help. Just fancy - a very nice one from Grace Gifford! Frl. Sihler wrote to me in German script and I'd about as soon read Hebrew as German script! However she said to write a German essay on Faust, send it to her & it would count as an exam. That was such an inducement that [I] finished reading reading Faust the very next day and shall begin the "Aufsatz" [essay] soon. But Botany gives me a nervous chill every time I think of it. I've tried to corner the High School Botany teacher for advice & help but haven't been able as yet to catch her. I am thankful that story was accepted - it is a good thing it wasn't accepted for the Mt. Holyoke after all. The other day I received a scrawled note of about four lines, - nothing at all individual or characteristic about it - signed merely Ellen. At first thought Miss Ramsey popped into my head and I pondered long before I could recall any other Ellen. At last I thought of Nell Bartholomew. Tell me, do I know any other Ellen there?
Mollie wrote me a letter that I was very glad to get; among other bits of news she said you'd been cleaning the closet. You must fairly revel in having that little hole all to yourself, to say nothing of the three extra drawers and all the inside of "the elephant!" But one unexplained sentence roused my curiosity - why is Mollie going to have a Freshman instead of Mary Hall? I'm glad of it. Freshmen aren't so bad to adopt - witness Sara!
Lots of sympathy to dear little Nan. I didn't know about her back when I wrote to her the other day. I hope Mary is tolerably decent to her! She sent me an ecstatic postal telling that the green and white had come out of the fray victorious. My congratulations to you & the other athletic members of The Family.
That story about the three knocks is rich. I have a thrilling tale about Helen Frisbee. She has a son! They were living in a third story flat and when the baby was less than a week old fire broke out one night in the building. Burley got the nurse & baby safely down stairs then went back for Helen but the smoke was so dense that it was impossible to get out - it was awful! He is immense and very strong. So he wrapped Helen in blankets and carried her to a window. Pretty soon "The Hooks" came and a ladder was put up and Helen carried safely down. They got a hack immediately & took her up to Frisbee's. And the most remarkable part of the whole story is that that frail little thing whose health has been so wretched for the last two years and whose heart gives her lots of trouble was sound asleep inside half an hour and as bright as a sixpence next morning! The man who put the ladder up and helped get Helen down was one of Burley's chums Sam Porter, so they've named the kid Samuel Porter - Samuel is also Helen's father's name. Helen says she'll call the baby Porter and Burley declares he will call it Sam. I haven't been able to get up spunk enough to go see her yet but am going to-morrow.
If you come across my celluloid engagement tablets anyplace just stick them in your next letter.
Are there any new stories about "Mother" Green? Who has my tables?
Well, I don't know that I've anything more to say this afternoon
Farewell
Lucy.217 Lake View Avenue
Jamestown
New YorkSunday, May 27, 1894.
[According to Family Search, Helen Mary Bailey (1871-1935) married Beardsley Richard Frisbee (1870-1943) on July 25, 1893, and gave birth to Samuel Porter Frisbee on May 10, 1894. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything on the fire.]