Part 15

I have been in daily expectation of a letter from you ever since my return and none has yet come. I have not heard a word from Isabella, tho’ I have been very anxious. The trunks arrived yesterday with an old letter for me enclosed by Horatio in a _blank_ cover, not a word to say how all the family did, particularly Isabella. We are still at our Mother’s, and shall probably remain a fortnight longer; the house would be ready in a few days, but we think it is too damp at present. Every body expected you back, for the Murrays had told most of our acquaintance you were to return with me. John and Hannah Murray came to see me the day after I arrived. John rattles as usual, talks much of getting married—his old tune, you know: he has completed his thirtieth year now since we have been gone; he says, “I begin to feel the approach of old age.” Mr. Newbold called to enquire particularly after your ladyship, and Mr. Rhinelander[68] spent last evening with us; I think he improves fast; he told me a deal of news. Miss Farquar and Mr. Jepson[69] were married last night, Miss Blackwell and Mr. Forbes, and one or two others. Rhinelander says half the girls in town are to be married before Spring. Maria Denning for one; and the world says Amelia and James Gillispie will certainly make a match,—that I was surprised at. Miss Bunner[70] and John Duer are married; Sally Duer is soon to be; and Fanny is positively engaged to Mr. Smith, whom you saw several times last winter, of Princeton. So you see all the girls are silly enough to give up their fine dancing days and become old matrons like myself. Mrs. Kane is in town; looks older, paler, and thinner. She has got a charming little girl,[71] fat and good-natured as possible. Mrs. Ogden stays out of town all winter. We are engaged at Mrs. Bogert’s this afternoon, but it storms so violently I believe I shan’t go. She regrets very much your not coming, and Lucia [Wadsworth] she would be delighted to have. Our things arrived yesterday, but are not out of the vessel yet. At present there is no gaiety, quite dull; there will be a revival soon, I suppose. Mr. Poinsett has been to see me several mornings; he goes on Monday to Carolina. Miss de Neufville spends the winter in New York with her Aunt Stowton. I meant to call on her this morning, but it was stormy. The few days I was in Boston I was constantly engaged. We dined at Sheriff Allen’s with a very large party,—Lady Temple,[72] Mrs. Winthrop and daughters, Mrs. Bowdoin, Mrs. G. Green, Mrs. Stouton and daughter, and many others,—about 30; and we were at Mrs. G. Blake’s at a tea-party, she enquired particularly after you; she is a very fine woman I think. Our journey on was tolerably pleasant. We arrived before Uncle and Aunt. Eliza Watts told me she had a letter from you after I left home. Adieu; write me soon and tell me all the news. Give my best love to Father, Mother, and all the family. I am very well and grow fat; everybody says I am wonderfully improved. Write me soon.

Yours ever, ELIZA S. BOWNE.

[Illustration:

THE BOWNE HOUSE—FLUSHING

Erected 1661 ]

New York, July 30, 1804.

I received your letter, my Dearest Mother, three days since, and every moment of my time and attention since has been taken up with our dear Eliza. I am grieved that you are so low-spirited about her, tho’ as you predicted her trouble has again ended, I yet feel confident if we once get her home, that she will gain strength and do well. Her Physician has been in great hopes that she would get through this time without any difficulty, indeed the first week we were in the country she was so finely, that we all felt encouraged about her. She had been as prudent as possible, and she can’t with any reason reflect upon herself. The last week we were there she began to droop again, and Mr. Bowne brought her into town with an intention of carrying her to Flushing; now we shall set off for home as soon as she is strong enough to travel. I am astonished at her spirits, they are as good again as mine, and yet to-day she is so much better. I feel finely myself.

She has had no pain, but only suffers from weakness. We shall go in three or four days to Flushing, which is a fine, bracing air, and stay there a few days till Eliza is smart enough to travel 10 miles a day. I place full confidence in this journey; I am sure that the change of air and scene, and more than all, the prospect of home, will render it truly beneficial. We are at Mr. Bowne’s mother’s, for we have shut our house up. She is a fine old lady, and Caroline is perfectly amiable and as attentive as possible. I am very glad we are here and in the neighborhood of Mrs. Bogert, for she is all goodness. I grow more and more anxious every hour to get home. The city is quite deserted, though it never was more healthy. There are as few deaths as there were in the winter. There has been two weeks of _very cool_ weather. I go wandering about and see scarcely a face I know. I used to complain last winter of our large acquaintance, and having the house full of company, but now I exclaim out half a dozen times a day that “I wished I could see some one I knew.” There are gentlemen enough, but no ladies. Uncle and Aunt, I suppose, have nearly set out for Scarborough. I wish we were to be there whilst they are with you. You can have no idea how very anxious I am to return. Was I not so much occupied I should be positively _homesick_, but I have no time to _think_ but upon one subject. Kiss the dear children for us _all_, for we are equally anxious to see you. Remember me very affectionately to Sister Boyd and to the children. Before I leave here I shall be in need of a little money. I won’t seal my letter to-night, but will write you how she is to-morrow.

July 31.

I did not finish my letter this morning because Eliza did not feel as well as usual, but this afternoon she is better. She is in charming spirits and so very well that we are delighted. She gives her best love to you; says _she_ don’t feel _at all_ obliged to you for your wishes, and is determined not to join with you. The old lady desires to be remembered, and says,—“If thee was here, thee could do no more for thy child than we have.” Indeed she is the most tender, affectionate of women. My best love to my Father. We are in the full of seeing you soon. I shall not make it long before I write again.

Yours affectionately, O. SOUTHGATE.

June 3, 1805.

Dear Octavia:

Mamma arrived safe and well on Wednesday morning to our great joy, after having a pleasant passage from Newport, staying two days in Boston, two in Newport, and one in Providence. We are going to Uncle’s to dine to-day, and I can’t persuade Miranda to write a line to let you know Mamma had come,—company coming in every minute, and can but just steal a moment to write. Louise is with you,—I am more than half vexed that I am to be disappointed of the charming winter I had promised myself, with you and Louise to spend it with me, so you need not be surprised if I am rather ill-natured at times. The secret is out, and all your friends, beaux I mean, walk the other side of the street when I meet them. Mary Murray called this morning; seemed rather disappointed at not having a letter. Eliza Watts thanks you for the wedding-cake as well as myself. Give my best love to Louise as well as all my other friends. We go over into Jersey to-morrow,—E. Watts and Susan go with us,—John Wadsworth. I wish you could have been here while Mamma was. Adieu; write me soon, and expect a longer letter as soon as I can command a little more time.

Your affectionate

E. S. BOWNE.

P. S. Remember I don’t call this a _letter_, so no lectures on that head.

Jamaica, October 6, 1805.

I am delighted, my Dear Octavia, to hear you are so finely, and the more so as I hear it from _yourself_. I did not so soon expect such fine effects from the new system of living; I am sure all will be well now. A wedding I suppose next, for I conclude from the melancholy pathos with which you say, you shall “neither have the independence of a married woman, nor of a single,” that you don’t mean to try the half-way being. However, let the man teaze if he will; do not think of being married until your health is perfectly confirmed,—I would not for the world. ’Tis so late in the season, ’tis not possible I can come to see you this fall, even tho’ there should be two weddings in November. And so you talk of spending the winter with me,—how you love to tantalize!—and wish me to give you the pleasure of refusing me. You know I should be delighted to have you, but you know you never mean to visit New York as Miss Southgate again. Somebody would put on a graver face than he did last fall on a like occasion, and as he had _as much influence_ then as to counteract my wishes, I won’t subject myself to the mortification of another defeat now I know his power to be much greater. However I won’t ask, tho’ I shall be very happy to have you with me. As for news, you give me more than I can you. We have left Rockaway more than a week ago, still exiled from our home by this dreadful calamity. We are at lodgings in Jamaica, where we shall probably remain until ’tis safe removing to the City. Uncle and Aunt,—Mr. and Mrs. Bogert,[73] have gone about 30 miles down the Island, sporting for _Grouse_, and return to Jamaica until we can all go in town. Mr. and Mrs. Rogers (Cruger that was) have taken a house in Jamaica during the fever; the next door to this I lodge in. Mr. and Mrs. Hayward[74] are with them, but leave here for Charleston this week. I am in there half of my time. We make a snug little party at _Brag_ in the evening frequently, and work together mornings. Mr. Bowne goes to Greenwich, where all the business is transacted, on Mondays and Thursdays, but returns the same night, so I am but little alone. As to news—Miss Charlotte Manden Heard was married last week to a _gentleman_ from _Demarara_, whom nobody knew she was engaged to until he came a few weeks since and they were married. John Murray, I believe, is at last really in love, tho’ ’tis not yet determined whether the lady smiles or not. A Miss Rogers from Baltimore, whom he met at the Springs,—a sweet interesting girl, ’tis said. Wolsey Rogers[75] and Harriet Clarke[76] were talked of as a match at the Springs. Mrs. Kane[77] staid at the Springs till she was so late she could not venture to ride to Providence with her Mother, and the fever kept her from New York, so was obliged to stop at Mrs. Gilbert Livingstone’s[78]—Mr. Kane’s sister—at Red Hook, until able to resume her journey home, which will probably be in November. Mrs. Fish[79] has a daughter; great joy on the occasion. Give my love to Cousin Pauline,[80] and tell her I congratulate her on the birth of her son. What do Mary[81] and Paulina call their boys—Nathaniel and Enoch? I hope not, never keep up such ugly names. Mr. B. says you must spend the winter with us,—he will come under bonds to somebody to return you safe. Give my best love to Sister Boyd, Horatio, and all the family at home. Has any progress been made in the new house? I am sorry to say I fear not—’tis pity,—I had almost said ’tis wrong. I am half mortified when I hear of any of my acquaintance visiting Portland,—’tis true, I declare,—tho’ Husband would scold me for saying so. Pappa is an affectionate Father, yet therein he acts not up to his character. I must check my pen—I am too much interested in this subject. Adieu; make my compliments to all acquaintances and write me again soon. Love to Miranda—tell her Mrs. Bogert talks much of her, and remind her from me of Aunt’s sleeves; are they finished?—if they are, I hope she will send them by Mrs. McKersen. I am working me a beautiful dress,—it will be when ’tis done. By-the-by, any purchases for the coming occasion will be executed with pleasure. Give my best love to (sister I had almost said) Nabby,[82] and tell her I shall feel myself flattered by any commission she will give me either in clothes or furniture; do away her modesty in this thing, if you think I can be of any service in that way, for I assure you ’twill gratify me. Tell Horatio[82] I am impatient to thank him for giving so pleasant an acquisition to our family, but I could do it more heartily in person in New York, if so I might be indulged. Since you won’t be honest and tell the truth, I won’t tell you what I’ll say to you. Do ask Papa if he could send us 6 or 8 barrels of potatoes, there is like to be a great scarcity in New York; put them in the hold of the vessel or anywhere. Col. Barclay has sent to Nova Scotia for a vessel load,—a housekeeper—

What a romantic conclusion.

Yours, E. B.

New York, Nov. 10, 1805.

Horatio is really married then; and we not married; and I suppose the next account your ladyship will be added to the list. How swimmingly you all go on! What a tremendous _marrying_ place Portland is. New Yorkers don’t marry—sad sett of them. I am half angry to think you are marrying in such an out-of-the-way season, that ’tis impossible any one can come to see you. However, I hope to come early in the summer, if nothing happens to prevent, and spend 3 or 4 months. I shall have so many new relations that ’twill be necessary to come often to keep an account. Robert Murray[83] came home quite delighted with his eastern visit, but disappointed at seeing so little of Miranda. What has been the matter with her, any thing more than a heavy cold? I wish she was here with all my heart. I am quite alone and require a companion more than ever, but I suppose Mamma could not hear of that. I wish Arixene and Mary could have found a good opportunity to come this fall, and we could take them home in the summer,—but I suppose I must be content. We have been in town since the 31st of October, the day your letter was dated; it has been a long time in coming. I got it only last evening. Mr. Bowne had found out Capt. Libby, and we were preparing to send the sheeting and diaper by him; he sails the last of the week; the other things you wish we will send as many as can be procured before the vessel sails, but ’twill be impossible to get any _plate made_ to send for several weeks,—we will order it immediately, and as it will not be bulky, there will probably be no difficulty in finding a conveyance. We made a sketch of the articles you wished and of the pieces, which cannot be very incorrect, as I took them all from our own furniture book, and we calculated that the whole of Mamma’s plate and another suit of curtains for Nabby included would come at about 400 dollars. Mr. B. has 340 in his hands of Pappa’s, about the sum that would buy all the things but Mamma’s plate and Nabby’s curtains; however, that makes not the least difference to Mr. Bowne, as he desires me to say he shall execute the commissions with great pleasure, and ’twill be no inconvenience to him to purchase the other articles, and I merely mentioned it as I did not know that you knew the real sum in Mr. Bowne’s hands. ’Tis very lucky there is so direct an opportunity to Scarborough; we shall endeavor to send as many things as possible. Shopping at present is a prohibited pleasure to me, but as all the things can be better procured at wholesale stores, and my husband has both a great deal of taste and judgment in those things, and makes better bargains than I do, you will be no sufferer by the loss of my services in that,—and I can have anything sent to me to look at, and therefore ’tis quite as well as if I went for them. I don’t mean you shall understand because I don’t go shopping that I am confined to the house. On the contrary, I am much better than could be expected and hope with care to do very well. I shall go out very little until the middle or last of the winter, when I hope, if I continue well, to be most as smart as other people. My husband does not allow me to go into a shop. I laugh at him and tell him I don’t believe but the health of his _purse_ is _one-half_ his concern—a fine excuse. Mrs. Bogert is in expectation of seeing Lucia Wadsworth when the General comes on. I have been confined to the house with a severe cold since Thursday,—Friday and Saturday was quite sick, and to-day feel unfit for anything almost but my bed. Adieu; my best love to all the family. You mentioned nothing of the Cypher on the Plate: O. S. or B.—or your crest, or William’s crest, if you can find them out,—I suppose we could here,—or what? Mamma’s I suppose will be S. only. I have a great mind to tell you what a saucy thing my husband said on your anxiety—that the bowls and edges of the spoons should not be sharp; but I leave you to guess, or if you can’t, perhaps William may help you to an explanation.

Adieu. Yours ever, E. S. BOWNE.

Miss Octavia Southgate.

November 14, 1805.

Capt. Libby sails to-morrow; we have got as many things as possible. There is not a piece of embossed Buff in New York, nor of plain either, there is not more than 2 pair alike, therefore I have done nothing about the trimmings. I fancy Boston is a better place for those things than New York. The most fashionable beds have draperies the same as my dimity window curtains. However, if you think best I will look farther, and perhaps there will be something new open in a week or two. There is but one barrel urn in the city. Mr. B. was two days in pursuit of one; he purchased this and sent it back: ’twas brown, and no plate on it except the nose. I can get you one like mine for $25. Let me know immediately respecting these things. Yesterday the Silversmith came for instructions respecting the plate, and bro’t patterns for me to look at. I ordered a set of tea-things for Mamma the same as mine; I think them handsomer than any I see. The man is to send me some patterns to look at which he thinks are similar to your description. On the next page I will make a list of the goods and pieces copied from the bills.

1 piece Irish sheeting, 48 yards, at 5 $30.00 1 piece Irish sheeting, 55 yards, at 6/6 44.69 6 yards Fine Linen, at 7/6 5.62 12 Damask Napkins, at 8 12.00 1 piece fine Diaper 27 yards, at 5/6 18.56 2 Breakfast Cloths, at 14 3.50 1 plated Castor best kind, 12.00 1 plated Cake Basket silver rims, 18.00 2 Pearl tea-pots, 2.25; 1 Trunk, 2.50 4.75 ——————— $149.12

The sheeting is quite as cheap as mine, the fine I like very much and think it quite a bargain. The Diaper is not quite so cheap as mine, but it has risen; the tablecloths are cheap, the linen is high I think. The Cake Basket is very cheap, $2 cheaper than mine, and rather handsomer I think. I could get no crimson marking, but send you a few skeins of cotton which I procured with much difficulty. The napkins are not the kind I wished, but there was none of those excepting at 2 places, and they were 18/–22/ a piece. I thought these pretty and would answer your purpose. I enclose the marking cotton and the key of the trunk. Adieu.

Yours ever, E. S. BOWNE.

P. S. The bills are in Miranda’s book in the trunk.

[Illustration:

JAMES GORE KING

From a miniature in the possession of A. Gracie King, Esq. ]

Jan. 14, 1806.

My dear Miranda:

Mr. Abbot is here from Brunswick and will take a letter for me to any of my friends. I should not have been surprised any more to have seen the cupola of the college itself walk into the room than I was to see Mr. Abbot, I could hardly believe my eyes; but I could not but _know_ him, as I know nobody like him: he always seems like a frightened bird—so hurried in his manner and conversation. How much he looked like some of Timothy Dexter’s wooden men—at commencement last year; it came across my mind while he was sitting by me yesterday,—’twas well I was alone, or I should have certainly laughed. Frederic,[84] I suppose, is at home, tho’ Mr. A. could not tell me. John[85] and Charles King have some thought of going to Portland. I have told them they had better go some other time, as they will find Portland so dull and none of you in quite so good spirits. James is here and they return with him. You ask about Jane Watts—nobody sees her, she is entirely confined to her room. Doctor Burchea attends her now; her cough they think a little better, but she is not able to sleep at all without laudanum. I have no expectation she will recover, the family seem to have.