Easton Pa.
Aug. 21. 1884.
Dear G'gy:-
Your good night from McKeesport came and said to me "You ought to write your friends a letter." Indeed I had been intending to answer your last before this but - well you know what road is paved with good intentions, I suppose, so at last I actually sit myself down to begin a better pavement leading to a better place I hope - by carrying my good intentions into effect. I am sitting in the doorway leading on to our side of piazza and I wish you could see the landscape spread before me - so beautiful.
But dark clouds are rolling above - thunder mutters in the distance & just now vivid lightning flashed. A few great drops have splashed down, - but it seems as if it were as difficult for the clouds to yield the rain to the parchd & suffering earth as - as - as for a stylographic pen to yield ink to a Sem. girl in desperate hurry for her topics!
In the middle of my last sentence I suddenly decamped to the house, and now the rain is pouring down in refreshing grateful plentifulness. Oh it has been so hot this week that I have hardly accomplished anything, but now I think it will again return to the former delightful coolness.
You said you "thought you wouldn't go South" next year. First time I had the slightest idea you ever intended to, mademoiselle. what a reliable friend you are Gertude. I admire that quality in you especially. I suppose you have heard of Edith's plans. She expects to be assistant principal in a school at Deerfield Mass. & teach Latin, French, History & Literature. The principal is a young Williams graduate - twenty-six years old & they two will run the school! That's the last of Edith!
Last evening I went out to Ida Hay's at the other end of the town and called on Lena Wilbur who is visiting her. Had such a good time. Anna Mitchell came yesterday, I believe, to visit Rosy W. I must go over tomorrow and call on them.
My "coaching duties" are soon to come to an end now - as 'tis only about three weeks to the opening of the term. We get on famously and my pupil is bright & anxious to learn. Had a lovely letter from Greta this evening. Found it under my tea-plate. Mother and I are still in the first volume of Macaulay. We stop to take in so many little asides of one sort or another that we don't get on very fast. We have finished an interesting life of Chatterton by Masson.
What do you think of Nast? Before I'd forsake my party in that style! But of course his living is in it, I suppose. Alas!
I'm still devoted to Mr Browning. But I want to take up Shelley, Keats, Burns, Coleridge, Byron, Wordsworth, Shakespeare - oh me,- what ever will become of me.
My "only and favorite" brother is coming to see us in a few days. Isn't that fine? I don't know whether you are at home - or at McKeesport - or - down South - by this time, but I'll venture on Duncan until I hear again.
I expect to be at home this year. Take charge of the marketing, learn to - sew - & do housework & paint little & embroider a little & try as much as I can to "make a sunshine in a shady place." -
My love to you, dear Gertrude, - Do you hear from Miss Wood? Ever the same
Winifred.P.S. Those line seem plain to me G!gy dear -
"We miss the prospect which
we're called unto,
By grief we're fools to use."
As little children shut out the lovely landscape from themselves by staining the glass with their breath, so we shut out much happiness for this world & the next from ourselves, by keeping our griefs ever between us & that happiness. N'est-ce-pas?
And how true. Don't ever let us do it any more Gertrude.
"Be still & strong oh man, my brother
hold thy sobbing breath
And keep thy soul's large window
pure from wrong."
Mother's book - "Insect Lives" is one of the best books on butterflies, I think especially for young folks.
Mother gives me this circular to send you.
Mother sends her love to you. She says she so often thinks of the pleasant ride you took her.
"High-hearted fortitude"
Winifred.