Like bad money I'm constantly coming back on the hands of the dear Capt. This Saturday night I've just finished a huge basket of holy socks and now for a quiet pleasant chat at the Capt. What an inveterate debtor you find me in the way of letter writing.
Nov. 18th, 1876
Our village has been in a perfect blaze of excitement for the past fortnight, but now that Tilden's spirit is to brood over Washington and Vance in Raleigh the very Heavens seem to whisper "Peace be still." You would have been highly amused to have seen Col. Tate, his delight was only equal to a boy with his first tin whistle. I went off and enjoyed a cry (the effect joy always has on me) Oh! Capt. This should make us a better people, and remember the arm that turned the hearts of this nation. I do pray for a dire sense of gratitude for this wonderful reformation, and for the first time since the war am looking forward with pleasure to a big dinner Thanksgiving. How I wish you could enjoy it with me.
So you expected me to forget my own native state in Yankeedom? Dear me, how little you know me. Your idea calls to mind something I heard my cousin Zeb say in a speech at the State Fair. He spoke of how far ahead (in the way of agriculture, manufacture, and commerce) the Yankee nation was of us, but after all there's more important things than all that and we have the people. I think like our Gov. and furthermore "a Yank is a Yank if you whitewash them." I would have spent the Winter but for the feeble condition of my dear invalid mother, who must come before pleasure, however tempting. She is so distressingly feeble that I grow heart-sick when her pale face comes before me, yet I try to keep a brave cover knowing it's all for the best or it would not be.
Yes, I promised Gov. Hendricks and Cousin Zeb too, but now that Mother is so frail I think duty calls me to be a keeper at home. Won't you come up and brighten the dull hours for me? Tis too late to go to the Roan, yet dear me, how much I'd enjoy talking around a bright home fire. Come up Xmas if Miss Laura will let you off.
I'm real sorry you didn't see Mr. Anderson. He is my idea of a model pastor and a first rate minister, as well as a dear friend of mine.
Wish I'd time to tell you of a vile black harangue I heard (when up in New Jersey) from a D.D. He spoke of the nabobs South and dared to lift his vile eyes towards Heaven as he thanked God the giant monster was destroyed (Slavery) and the proud tyrants had been truly brought down. I feel that it would give me delight to see him brought down. I would have left the house if I could have found the way home. I've talked Cen[tennial] till I fear I've disgusted the home folks and I dare not give you a chat after Miss Laura.
Am glad you enjoyed Synod so much. Cam has gone to New York for his wife who has not yet returned and feared to try the trip alone. "Necessity knows no law" and I've begun to think it is the very best yoke for some people. I feel quite confident it will end for the best if they mix equal portions of common sense.
We have been having real "Indian Summer" yet it's quite cold tonight and I hear the rain falling faster and faster. Hope it will be bright tomorrow if it's not Bro Anderson's Sunday (you know we only enjoy service twice a month)
I just finished an exquisite little gem in the way of a story, "Gold Elsie."
I don't know the town news, have not been out since I came home. I find so much to look after here. I see and hear from Cora quite often. She seems as happy as a bird. Capt. E. will still keep his office on the W.R.R.
Pleasant dreams and slumber light and now my friend a fair good night.
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