|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
I have been very anxious to hear from home for a long time, and indeed if I did not know that vessels at this season of the year have sometimes very tedious passages I should be very uneasy. The last letter I had from home was from Rachel, dated June. The one she said you had written to me at the same time has not come to hand yet. Before I finish this letter I hope I shall have the happiness of telling you I have received a packet from Ireland. I am now so well that I was able to be at no less than two balls last week, one of them was at Major Taylor's, a very near neighbour of mine, the other was a public one held at the hall which is within a hundred yards of us. I danced a little but I have not the pleasure now I once enjoyed in that amusement. I get so soon tired owing to my want of strength that it is rather a toil for me to go through a reel, and I feel more pleasure to sit and look at others than to join them in the dance. "How you are changed" you will say, but believe me I have no idea my dancing days are over. When I go home you will see me I hope as active on the floor as ever. I do not like the reels they dance here, it is the same or nearly the same figure over and over again. They seem to me to pay no attention to the music and begin at the last of the line as soon as at the beginning. Country dances are not much liked here. In Richmond and the Northward cotillions are the most favoured dances, balls are always well attended and young and old join in the dance. It would amuse you to see Mrs. Moore going through a reel, she is an uncommonly large woman, dresses very gay, and seems to enjoy herself more than anyone I know. The American ladies in general dress very well, a good deal in the French style, which I do not admire. There are a number of very pretty girls in Petersburg, most of the American ladies I have seen are remarkably fair, with scarcely any colour, owing to the warmth of the climate, I suppose. My sweet little Agnes Freeland is an exception, she is as blooming as any Irish girl, she has beautiful hair and dark eyes, I have not seen her here so often of late, owing to her mother's health, which I am sorry to say is very bad. She is now confined to bed, and lam very much afraid her disease will end in a consumption. She has been long threatened with it, and she has met with so many misfortunes lately that I fear it has increased the complaint. Within the last year she lost her husband and an only sister. Mr. Freeland died very suddenly, her sister (who was a charming woman) died a few hour after the birth of her boy. Mrs. Freeland has an uncommonly strong mind, but I fear her health will suffer, I do not know what I would do if I was to lose her, she says she looks on me as if I was her daughter and she has always treated me as if I was really so, but I hope from my heart she will soon get better, I cannot bear to think of losing her. I have attended four funerals since I came to this country, I believe. The persons all died during the last year, they were all acquaintances of ours, and what is singular, all Scotchmen. I like the manner that funerals are conducted here very much, I think they are extremely solemn and impressive. It is a mournful subject, but as this is Sunday I will therefore tell you as well as I can how they are arranged. The day after the decease of the person their friends send notes to as many of their acquaintance as they wish to attend, mentioning at what hour the funeral will take place. The ladies all go in carriages, the men on horseback, when you get to the house every place looks mournful, the coffin put on a large table in the middle of the room, covered with white, the ends tied with black, all the pictures and mirrors are covered in like manner. When all the company have assembled the clergyman reads the funeral service, which is altogether the most affecting scene I have witnessed these many years. After he has finished six of the deceased's most particular friends bear the coffin to the hearse, the company attend to the place of interment, all alight and proceed to the graveyard where the clergyman again delivers a short prayer over the spot. No person could possibly help being affected during this solemn scene. There is always a quantity of what is called funeral cake, made on the occasion. II is like our Naples biscuits, each piece is rolled up in mourning paper and sealed with black. I think this a curious custom, even the baskets which it is handed round in are all coveted with white. I shall now bid my dear Margaret adieu for the present. Thursday January 6th I again take up my pen to have a little conversation with my dear Margaret, and to tell her we have all been on the tiptoe of hope and expectation for these last few days past. A cartel has arrived at Annapolis and brought a messenger from the British Government, who is now at Washington. The general opinion is that the message is of a pacific nature and that peace is not tar distant. From my soul I hope it is not. William is in fine spirits at the good news. If it does take place I think I shall see my beloved friends sooner than I once expected. Do you know I am going to commence tobacco merchant? William gave me for my Christmas gift a quantity which I intend shipping off when peace takes place. If I succeed in my first attempt I shall go on in the same manner till I return to Ireland. William and myself were talking of a plan if we should have peace which he would advise my Father to think of. It is for him to get James Cunning or some other person to purchase some fine and coarse linens, send them to W. Brown of Liverpool to be shipped to America. William will sell them for him and if he pleases lay the proceeds out in tobacco so that if all would turn out well my Father would make by both purchases. William says if we had peace many merchants will be ruined, some have speculated very largely in tea and sugar when both articles had got an exorbitant price in expectation that the war would last a long time. I am glad to say William never thought it would last very long. I have the happiness of telling you Mrs. Freeland is much better since I wrote last and I trust will soon be quite well. My acquaintance is now very numerous indeed, my health has been so bad lately that I have not been able to visit any except my most particular friends. There are about eight families with whom I am very intimate, and those are quite enough for me. I do not care for a large circle of acquaintances, a great many of wham I do not care for. Several of my most intimate friends are as elegant accomplished women as I ever met with, so much so that I can find no fault with them, but I must give you some description of Mrs. Taylor, a lady who visited me about a twelve month ago, and who is my nearest neighbour, as I have got nothing better at present to tell you. Perhaps it may amuse you. You must not say I am satrical, I shall not exaggerate nor "set down aught in malice". Often before I had the pleasure of knowing this lady I had heard of her. I was told she was extremely lively, witty, and sensible, keen in her remarks, and will have her laugh no matter at whose expense. From these accounts I thought I should feel rather afraid of her, but my opinion changed the first time she came to see me, I found her lively, cheerful, and agreeable, seemed very desirous. I really think this long epistle will try your patience, but I wish you to send me one just as long. Peace is still spoken of as not being far off, I feel quite anxious now for William's return to hear all the news. If we have peace he will make a very handsome sum of money by a purchase of flour which he bought the other day, it was quite a sudden thought; he had heard some report of the good news, and therefore bought eight hundred barrels of flour at four dollars and a half a barrel. This was lower than it. has been here for a long time, and yesterday he would have got six for it. If we have peace it will be up to eight or nine dollars, so that at any rate he will make. I have a delightful plan in view to expend the profits of this little speculation, and if all goes on well I hope to see it accomplished. I wish William to take me on in the gig next summer to Philadelphia, spend some time there, and get the man who made the gig to exchange it for a handsome carriage, as the former is of very little use to us now, since William is so much engaged. I should like to spend some time in Baltimore also. Carriages are very necessary in this country in the Summer to protect you from the immense heat and in Winter from the cold. We have had some piercing weather lately, but I do not mind, as I am always better in cold weather. It is the sudden changes we have which are so injurious. You have not said anything of the Cairds in your letters lately, I hope they are well. I do not know what all the Lisburn girls are about, not a girl of my acquaintance married since I left Ireland. Tell Margaret Byers I have not had a letter from her this long time. J.C. deserves his ears boxed. Oh, my beloved Margaret, how happy we shall all be when I return to Ireland. I suppose Dublin will be our place of residence, and then I will have you and Rachel always with me, or I will be with you. My dear Father must come very often and stay with me. I fancy Rachel will be his housekeeper before that time comes. I should like M. Cumming 1 to be mistress of the house at the bridge, as for Miss Rachel I want her to be planted in Dublin beside me. What do you think of these plans? This is a great day in Petersburg, the inhabitants are to give a dinner to the volunteers. I was awakened this morning by the firing of cannon, some of the democrats have styled them "the Spartan band." I suppose it will be "Much ado about Nothing". William subscribed, but he would not dine with them. The suppers we have at the public balls are very superb. The ladies never pay, each gentleman's ticket is four dollars, and he may take as many ladies with him as he chooses. I like this plan, it is considered enough for them to honour the balls with their company without paying anything. The girls in general strip very much at these places, the frocks are made very low, without very often a shoulder strap; their hair, ever since I came to this country has been worn in what is called an Indian knot. It is twisted in this form as close to the neck as possible, I did not like this fashion much at first, but I am reconciled to it now. The Americans dress much more in the morning than is customary in Ireland, I have seen ladies fine enough to go into a ball-room paying morning visits. Perhaps this is owing in some measure to their using carriages so much. There is a beautiful kind of silk to be got in this country, called the French Levantine, it is much richer than the English sarsnet, as soon as I have an opportunity I will send you and Rachel frocks of it, for it is not to be had with you. I got a very handsome figured pink one for the last birth-night ball, which I paid fifteen shillings a yard for. Mercy upon us! how the cannons are firing! If they were going to give a dinner to Lord Wellington there could not be a greater fuss. I think they had better not waste any more powder, as they are very often at a short for some when they are fighting. I believe in my soul many Americans wish old England was sunk in the sea, but she will flourish great and free, the dread and envy of them all. You cannot conceive how very much my white tippet is admired, it is the only one in Petersburg of the kind. I have told many people how it was done, but they are afraid to begin so troublesome a job. Pelisses of fine cloth trimmed with gold and gold buttons are very much worn here. This I think too showy a dress for the street. I have never seen any velvet as handsome as mine. I send you a little bit of the trimming Agnes Freeland taught me to do. Perhaps Rachel or you will find out the way to do it, it is very easy, but I fear unless you saw it done you will not succeed. However you can try, and I will endeavour to give you the best description of how it is done that I can. You take a piece of cotton (the kind we used to knit with will do) about a yard long, put the one end of it between the first finger and thumb of the left hand, put the thread once around the left hand, and with the right take the other end and work the cotton which is over the left hand something like the way you make a button-hole. When you have about sixteen stitches on try if it will draw, which forms the little loop, which you may make large or small by putting more or less stitches on. The only trouble is to learn to make it draw, which you may be able to find out from what I have said, though I wish I could make it clearer to you. Do not be discouraged if you do not succeed at first, for I am sure I tried forty times before I could get it to draw with me. There area great variety of ways of making it, but this is the most simple kind I have sent you. I will with pleasure teach you all the others when you can do this, but you must learn to make it draw before you can do any kind, It is called tatting and makes a very neat trimming. I have done a great quantity of it. When your cotton gives out you must knot it close to the little loop. January 9th. Sunday. This is a very wet day. William is gone to town and I have been engaged writing to Mr. Gilmour. We had a snow storm last week, but if this rain continues it will soon disappear. I did a little bit of the tatting last night, which I send you, you will find if you draw the long end of the cotton which I have left it will form the little loop. This trimming makes a handsome finish to any kind of work, it always looks well round the sleeve or neck of a morning gown. If you cannot find out the manner in which it is done, as soon as I have an opportunity I will send you and Rachel some. Perhaps she could describe something she learned at school to me, so that I could find it out. What pleasure I shall take in teaching my beloved sisters all the little things I have learned during my stay in this country. I never saw such elegant baby-clothes as the ladies make here. I took much pains making mine the last time, but alas! I had no occasion for them. Tatting done with fine cotton looks very well round the ruffle of little shirts. You see I am telling these things as perhaps you may have use for them some time or other. I have got some beautiful patterns for working, which I would like to send you. Does Rachel make her frocks? And now my beloved Margaret, I shall bid you adieu! having told you everything I could think of, and I hope I may soon receive a letter from you, as long as this is. I shall write to Rachel very soon. God bless you my darling sister, and grant you every happiness, is the sincere prayer of your Mary Cunning. There is no address written on
this letter, nor even a space for one-Editor.
Letter No. 23.March 9th, 1814. I embrace with the greatest pleasure another opportunity of writing to my beloved Sister; a cartel is to sail in a few days from New York to Gothenburg1 which will take this letter. I was very disappointed that I did not hear from any of my friends by the "Ann and Alexander," which arrived very lately from Liverpool. William had a letter from his brother James by her. I hope, however, I shall hear from home very soon, as I have not had a letter this long time. The last I received was from Margaret dated in July and September. I hope some of my letters have got to hand before this time, I was very sorry some of them were detained so long after they were sent away. I wrote a very long letter to my dear Margaret in January, which I suppose she will get before this arrives. I know my dear Sister will be pleased to hear that my
health this winter has been tolerably good, I have had a few returns of the ague
and fever, and I hope will soon get entirely quit of it. William has not had an
hour's sickness these twelve months, he is the picture of health and
contentment, for since the good news from England has reached us he has been
busily engaged purchasing tobacco, in expectation that peace will take place
during the summer; most sincerely I hope it may, for then our return to dear
Ireland will be sooner than it otherwise would be. Tobacco has risen in price
very much of late, William has sold some here lately for double what he paid for
it in the beginning of the winter. He has now more than a thousand hogheads2
on hand, the greater part is his own, the remainder he purchased for Mr. Oliver
and Mr. Brown of Baltimore. If he can get this shipped off during the summer all
will be well. W e propose leaving this place about the beginning of July,
and spending a few months in Baltimore, and perhaps going to Philadelphia. I
look forward with great pleasure to this jaunt, for though I have so often been
disappointed in my plans of happiness yet I still continue to have the same
fondness for castle-building which I formerly had, indeed it is a source of
great amusement to me in planning my return to my beloved home once more. I very
often dream of you all, and my earnest prayer is that I may live to return to
Strawberry Hill, and find all its dear inmates well and happy. Mrs. Freeland is
much better than she was when I wrote last, Agnes has been ill of the measles
lately, she is now recovered, and I expect to have her here next week to stay
some time with me. She is nearly about your age, I am sure you would like her
very much. William and I attended the birth-night Ball on the 22nd of
last month, I never was at so crowded an assembly in my life, the hall is very
large, yet it was so full of company there was hardly room to move; the supper
was very elegant, I did not dance much, but was very much diverted with the
novelty of the scene. I had the good luck to get beside my lively and
entertaining friend, Mrs. Taylor, who by her wit and humour is sure to keep one
in good spirits. I fancy I am a favourite of hers, as she is always extremely
kind and attentive to me. I was highly diverted with a French gentleman, at the
Ball. Mrs. Taylor and myself were chatting together when he came up, to whom he
addressed himself, he spoke bad English. "Mrs. Taylor" he began. "Does you intend dancing any to-night?" She said
she believed not. "If you do" he replied, "You had much betterre
take care of your toes, for as I was just dancing one reel and not attending
very much to mine, a gentleman he first trod on one foot, and just as he was
going to ask my pardonne Mr. Cameron he jump on the other one." I cannot
write in the manner he spoke, but we were both very much diverted with him. I do
not like the reels half as well as the country dances, I hope I shall be able to
dance them when I return. I have been amusing myself lately working caps and vandyles
on India book muslin, it is much better than the common kind. I hope I shall
soon be able to send you and Margaret some little things of my work. The garden will soon be in nice order, our peas will soon
be two or three inches above the ground. The gardener and old Matt find constant
employment. Oh, dearest Rachel, I wish you could see old Matt at his work, he
certainly is one of the natural curiosities of the place. Many a time I am
diverted with him, his figure and face are very different from any negro I have
ever seen, both formed in Nature's roughest mould, and to add another charm to
his appearance he has got an old helmet somewhere, which he wears instead of his
hat, and altogether you never beheld so comical a. figure as he is. I like him
very much, he is perfectly good-natured and obliging. William gathered a great number of cucumbers one day last
summer, which when Matt saw, "Why, Master" he said, "Some of them
cucumbers you have pulled have got `fever'," meaning they were too ripe and
turning yellow. Jenny expects an increase to her family in Summer, I thought she
would not have had any more, as Cora is seven years old, I would rather not have
any more children about the house, but these things cannot be helped, and Jenny
is a faithful honest creature as can be. The Petersburg ladies have instituted an asylum, called the
"Female Orphan Asylum", for the purpose of educating poor orphans who
had no one to take care of them, it is about two years since the commencement of
the plan and it seems to have met with great success. They have a President,
Secretary, Treasurer, and twelve Directors. There is a meeting of all the
subscribers once a year at which time they choose the different officers by
votes. This meeting took place on Monday last, at which time I had the honour of
being elected one of the Directors. William says I shall soon be a great
character in this country. I am anxiously waiting for another arrival in hopes of
getting letters from Ireland, tell Margaret Byers I expect along one from her, I
hope she and Miss McCully are well, give my kindest love to them. Do not, my
dear Rachel, let any opportunity escape without writing to me, I was very much
pleased to see your last letter so well written. Tell my dear Margaret I will
expect a very long one from her for the enormous budget I sent her lately. I
hope my darling James is well, when you write to him tell him to write a long
letter to me. Give my love to Andy and Sally. Do you know I have taken it into
my wise head that you will soon be Miss Craig if you are not so already. I am
sure my dear James is very handsome young man, how I long to see you all! I
wrote along letter to my Father in December, which I hope he will soon receive. I have been a good deal amused reading the "Orlando
Furioso" of Ariosto, Mrs. Taylor lent it to me. Will you ask my Father if
he ever met with a book called "Salmagundi", written by three very
clever men of New York, but whose names are not known.3 If he has not
I will send it to him if I can, for I am sure he would admire it. William joins me in a thousand loves to you all. God bless
you, my dear, dear Sisters, is the sincere prayer of your Mary Cunning. I hope Mr. Neely is well, give my kind love to him. I wrote to Mr. Gilmour lately. Miss Rachel Craig
Letter No. 24 And can it be possible that my beloved Sister is no longer
Margaret Craig? is a question I often ask myself. This happy event I have
expected this some time past, and about a week ago I received the
long-looked-for letter, telling me you were to change your name in March. I had
a letter from you at the same time dated December. Oh, how I long to hear of the
wedding, it seems to me so strange that I should not have been with my darling
Margaret at that time. Any person who had seen me when I read your letter would
have supposed I had heard some very mournful news. I am sure I wept for an hour
after it. I cannot account for my being so much affected, for I felt most
delighted at your prospect of happiness, and Oh, my beloved Sister, may it be
lasting; and exempt from all sorrow, is my sincere prayer. William desires me to
give you and my new brother 1I his most hearty congratulations on the
joyful occasion. I have not written a letter to you this long time past in such
good health and spirits as I am in at present. I know this will give my dear
Margaret great pleasure. I have had tolerably good health for some time past and
I think it has been much better since I received the last letter from home. You
will wonder how it could have such an effect. In the first place I am delighted
at my dear Margaret's happiness, but it is the delightful prospect of soon
witnessing it that makes my spirits so good and my health better. You must not
be too sanguine, for I have a year to stay here yet, but my dear Mr. Cumming has
promised to take me home next Spring or Summer, and it is this delightful
prospect in view that makes me feel so happy and contented a present. I think of
it during the day, and at night it almost prevents me from sleeping. I think the
heat will not be so oppressive to me this Summer as I formerly found, I can bear
it much better now, as I trust it will be for the last time, and I expect to
discover new charms in this country which I have overlooked when I thought of
remaining in it for a much longer time. You need not be afraid of my health this
Fall, for I mean to ensure it by making my escape from Blandford for three or
four months. I am now as busy as possible making preparations for our departure
next month, we are going to take a charming excursion, from which I hope to
enjoy health and a great deal of pleasure. We propose going to Balltown, 2
a place I suppose you have heard William speak of. It is the most frequented gay
place in America for a few months in the year. I shall there drink plenty of
Saratoga water, which I have no doubt will complete my restoration, as I have
found great benefit from some William had brought in bottles from the Springs.
Balltown is six hundred miles from this place. What a journey, my dear Margaret,
would this once have appeared to me! Now I think nothing of it. William says my
ideas of distance have enlarged since I came to this great country. The truth
is, the people here think nothing of travelling five or six hundred miles;
however, we shall go a great part of the way by water, which will make the
journey much pleasanter. We purpose taking a carriage from this to Baltimore,
spending some time there with our friends as we go on, and on our return also.
From there we take the steamboat to Philadelphia, staying a few days to see the
sights of that delightful place, again go by the same conveyance to New York,
where we will remain a short time, and from there go to Balltown. We must return
the same way. Do not you think this will be a delightful trip? and I have an
idea that in all probability I shall be visiting all these fine places for the
last time, which will not render the journey the least affecting to me. On the contrary, it will add a charm to it. Indeed I often
wonder at myself when I look at this charming place, how I can wish so much to
leave it, but I do most anxiusly, for it does not possess that first of all
blessings - health. I sometimes think that it would be too great happiness for
me to see you all well and happy again without some drawback. Oh, Margaret, had
my two lovely children been spared to me how proud I would have been to have
taken them home, but I must not repine, for I do enjoy so many blessings that I
must expect some sorrow. We have had the greatest profusion of strawberries and
cherries this season I ever saw. We shall be away during peachtime, however we
shall get finer fruit where we are going. As this letter is to be sent to Boston
I shall defer writing to my dear Father and my sweet Rachel till I go to New
York or Baltimore. Give my kindest love to them and thank them for writing to
me. I know they will see this epistle. Rachel's letter gratified me very much,
her hand is so good and the style excellent. How I long to see her fine figure.
You must write very often, my dear Margaret, and tell me how you are fixed, etc.
I know you will make a good wife. Give my best love to my new brother James, and
tell him I think he was very fortunate in getting you, though I say it that
should not, and if you live together as happily as William and I do I shall be
quite satisfied. Give my kindest love to Miss McCully and Cousin Meg. Tell them
I will answer their kind letters very soon. I want very much to be at Meg's
wedding. Tell my Father I hope he will plant a great many potatoes
next year, and sow an additional quantity of oats, for I verily believe I will
live on these two things when I go home. Oh, that delightful word makes me so
happy, I do believe I shall be crazed when I again set foot on Irish ground, the
rapture I shall feel in again seeing you all will compensate for all the shaking
I have had from the ague. I am sure my brother James is a fine-looking young man, he
must come and see me immediately on my return. I will not be satisfied till we are all once more under the
same roof. Many is the castle I build, I hope they will not all prove without
foundation. Give my love to Mrs. J. Ward and Mrs. Telfair. I trust Mrs. Ward
will be fortunate this time. Do you go to Strawberry Hill every day? If I lived
so near I would be a daily visitor. The weather has not been very hot as yet, but we may soon
expect to be almost fried. Thank Providence it is the last time for me. Rejoiced
and happy as I will be to leave America I will feel great regret at parting
"to meet no more" with many of the inhabitants of Petersburg, for whom
I feel a very great regard. The society is extremely agreeable and I have met
with the greatest kindness and attention from my friends here which I will
always remember with gratitude. I suppose Rachel spends a great part of her time with you,
she is Miss Craig now. We expect James Cumming here next Fall. I hope to receive
a great many letters by him from all at home. I wish he would bring a wife with
him. Mr. John Brown of Baltimore went to Ireland not very long ago, and returned
home lately with a little Irish girl.3 William joins me in wishing you and your good man every
happiness this world can bestow. God bless you, my ever darling Sister, is the
prayer of M. Cunning. Rev. A. Craig.
Letter No. 25Blandford, I embrace with pleasure another opportunity of writing to
my beloved Father, to tell him we are in good health and spirits, and ready to
sets off this week for the North, there to lay in a store of health for the
Winter. I promise myself much pleasure from our jaunt. In a letter I wrote to
Margaret in the beginning of June I gave her a description of the route we
should take. The weather this summer has not been so warm as the last,
in the early part of the year we had a great deal of wet and cold, and at
present everything is burned up for want of rain, at the same time the heat is
not half so oppressive as I have felt it, I have not had a return of the ague
these many months, and I begin to hope it has taken its departure altogether. I am very anxious to hear from home again, I want an
account of my dear Margaret's wedding, which I suppose has taken place long
before this time. I can hardly believe she is no longer an inmate of Strawberry
Hill, I am sure you must feel the want of her society very much, but she is so
very near you I should think you would see each other every day, and I know my
dear Rachel is a very delightful companion. Tell her the last letter she wrote
to me gratified me extremely, and I will write a long letter to her when I
return, and tell her about our journey. An arrival from England is most
anxiously looked for by every one just now. Peace is expected and I believe,
most truly hoped for by the people of this country, they are quite tired of war,
and now that John Bull has it in his power to injure us so much I believe the
most violent would like to be on friendly terms with him again. 1 William is almost certain we shall have peace soon, I
sincerely hope we may, for then we shall return to dear Ireland next summer. Oh,
my dear Father, it is impossible to express the heartfelt pleasure I feel at the
idea of so soon seeing my beloved friends again. I sometimes think it will be
too great happiness for me to see realised, but I shall hope for the best. I
shall see the Olivers, as we purpose spending some time in Baltimore with Mr.
Brown's family. Agnes Freeland will go as far as Georgetown with us, on a visit
to some of her friends who live there, I am sure she would be a great favourite
with you, she is so lively and pleasing. I shall feel great regret at parting
with her, and many more of my acquaintance, for whom I feel a great regard, but
the thoughts of the dear friends I shall meet on the other side of the Atlantic
will soon banish sorrow from my heart. It is a long time since I had a letter from my dear James,
I hope he is well and happy, tell him to write to me soon. We expect James
Cumming out in the Fall, and by him I hope to receive letters from all my
friends. Many is the time I wish for some of the fine gooseberries
you have at home now, we had a few here which were ripe six weeks ago, but they
are not so good as those in Ireland. I wish I could send you a few water melons
which are beginning to ripen, I think you would like them very much. I hope, my
dear Father, you will set a plentiful crop of potatoes next year, and have a
good store of oatmeal when I return, we have no meal here. I like the Indian
meal very much now, it is very different from what I remember seeing at one time
in Ireland, I will take some home with me and show you how we make cakes of it
here. William joins me in the kindest love to you, my dear Sisters and brother,
and wishing every happiness this world can bestow, I am your most affectionate, Mary Cumming. Rev. A. Craig.
Letter No. 26. My dear Father, On the 11th inst. I was made very happy by the receipt of
your letter of the 30th April, along with several others from my dear friends at
home. It was along time since I had heard from you before, and most happy I am
to hear you are all well. William and I left home for the Springs about the
latter end of July, where we spent some time, but whether it was owing to the
fatigue of travelling or some other cause I did not derive the benefit from them
which I expected; on the contrary I think I got weaker during my stay but as
there is no subject I dislike so much to dwell on as my own bad health, I shall
say no more about it, only that I am much better and hope soon to be quite well
again. We arrived here about a fortnight ago, and on Wednesday
last William set off for Petersburg alone. The reason he left me was this: - my
journey from New York to Baltimore fatigued me so much he was afraid of me
undertaking as long a one as from this to Petersburg until I got stronger, and
he had some business that required his immediate return. My dear Father will
have heard long before this reaches him that all hope of peace between America
and England is at an end, perhaps for many years. By the arrival of the
"John Adams" about a week ago we heard the unwelcome intelligence that
the American ministers were about to return without being able to bring about an
honourable peace for this country. This was a sad disappointment to us, for now
it is impossible to say when that event may take place. I never in all my life
saw any person bear disappointments better than my dear William does, he always
keeps up his spirits and hopes for happier days. To my great joy he has now determined on returning to
Ireland in the course of next Summer, there will be little or no business to do
in this country now, and I suffer so much from the climate that he will not run
the risk of keeping me longerin it. The thought of this happy event which I have
so long and ardently wished for makes me feel very happy, and I feel convinced
my beloved friends at home will feel so too. I expect to be able to return to
Petersburg about the beginning of next month, I shall be very anxious to see
William, as it is the first time we have been separated for so long. We expect
James Cumming here some time soon, I shall return with him or one of Mr. Brown's
sons. I feel quite at home here, indeed the family pay me the greatest attention
imaginable. I saw Mr. John Oliver here the other evening, he and his brother's
family are all well, they are all very intimate with the Browns. Mr. John Oliver
showed me a letter which he received from you lately. Mrs. Oliver called to see
me since I came here, she is a very pleasing lively woman. Their country house
is a very short distance from this. Mr. Brown has a very elegant carriage which
I have the use of when I wish to go out. I am very pleased with Mrs. John Brown,
who came out to this country this Spring. She is daughter to Dr. Patrick of
Ballymena, whom I dare say you have met with, she and I have long conversations
about Ireland. Her husband's friends are all very much pleased with her. You will have heard long before this reaches you of the
capture of Washington, and the attack made on Baltimore by the British. Mr.
Brown's family went into the country till the alarm had subsided, two of his
sons are in the army, they had to remain. We are almost now in the middle of a
camp, nothing to be heard but the discordant fife and drum. The inhabitants are
all busily engaged in preparing for another attack, which is feared will be made
on them, how dreadfully situated this unfortunate country is. I hope and trust
it will soon have a termination. I think the late demands of Great Britain have
served to unite the people in favour of the war more than any other event that
could have taken place. I mentioned in one of my letters of a purchase of flour
which William made in Summer, and I am now happy to tell you that he made a
large profit by the sale.2 This is pleasant, and helps to keep up his
spirits in these gloomy times, but he is of so cheerful a temper that he will
never despond. I thank you for the seeds which you sent me, which I shall
distribute among my friends, for I never hope to see them arrive at any
perfection. I shall endeavour to collect as many roots and seeds for you as I
can. If I have good health this winter will pass quickly away, for I trust and
hope it is the last I shall spend in America. How delighted I am to hear of the
happiness of my beloved Margaret! Long may it continue, and may I find all my
dear friends well and happy on my return is my sincere prayer. I shall answer all my other letters when I get home and
feel stronger. How proud I am at the flattering accounts I hear of my dear James
and my sweet Rachel. I am very sorry to hear that Margaret Byers is in delicate
health, I hope she is better long before this time. Remember me very
affectionately to her and Miss McCully and to all my other friends. I know my
dear Father will not neglect any opportunity of writing to me. The surest way
always is to send your letter to W. Brown of Liverpool. The weather at present is very pleasant, and the woods
beginning to assume their bright Autumnal tinge, which is beautiful beyond
description. I envy Margaret that she lives near all her friends, but I cannot
expect everything as I would wish. Give my kindest love to her and Rachel, and in wishing you
every happiness I am, my dear Father, Your affectionate Rev. Andrew Craig. (Belfast Ship letter).
Letter No. 27 My beloved Margaret will be surprised when she sees where I
date my letter from. I am very sorry to tell you bad health has detained me here
all this Winter, the last letter I wrote home was to my Father in October, at
which time my health was very delicate, but I thought I would get better in a
short time as the weather was getting healthy and I had the best advice that
could be got in Baltimore. I was disappointed, however, as I have frequently
been, I got weaker everyday. We came into town the latter end of October, where
I have been coned to my room, mostly to my bed, for the last four months: how
this may terminate, my dear Sister, God only knows. At present I am extremely
weak and thin, more so, I think, than I ever was before. My principal complaint
now is a very weak stomach which prevents me gaining strength. Dr. Brown attends
me every day and if it is possible to do anything for me he will be able to
effect it, for he is the most skilful physician in Baltimore, and has always
paid me great attention. Indeed I have met with the most uncommon kindness and
attention from this good family j ever experienced in my life from any people. I
am .a thousand times better attended than if I had been in Blandford, it was
extremely fortunate I did not return in the Fall, for never was that unfortunate
place so unhealthy as it has been this year. My dear William has been twice to
see me since he first left me, he was here for three weeks lately. He is the
very picture of health, and if his poor Mary was well would be of happiness. I am happy to tell you that among all the rest of my
complaints I have not the smallest symptom of either a breast or a liver
complaint, the spleen in my side is much better and if I could but get the
better of this excessive weakness all might yet be well. I have come through
such dreadful sickness since I came to this country that my hopes are very
sanguine that Providence will yet be kind and generous to me. But my dear Sister
and friends, if it should please that great Disposer of events to think fit to
take me from this world at present, we must all try and bear it with
resignation, and think it for my happiness. My views of this world have changed
a good deal of late, though it is
still inexpressibly dear to me yet I have not the same dread of leaving it as I
had a few months ago. In all probability if that event should take place my
darling husband would pay his native country a visit (I hope along one) in that
case my last and most earnest request to you and my friends at home will be to
transfer the kindness and affection which I well know you would have bestowed on
your poor Mary to her adored William, whose study during the short time I have
been with him has ever been my happiness and welfare. But these are all sad and gloomy thoughts, it will do me
good to turn to something more lively, and all may yet be better than I am
sometimes inclined to think. I intend sending this letter by a ship which will sail from
this port in a few days, I have not heard a word from Ireland since I received
the large packet giving me an account of my dear Margaret's wedding. Since I
wrote last there has been most wonderful news arrived, no more nor less than
that there is peace between this country and Great Britain. Had I been in good
helath this news would almost have put me crazy, as it is I feel truly rejoiced.
There are to he great illuminations to-night, indeed every one seems to
participate in the general joy. There will now be plenty of opportunities of
vessels going from every port we may wish. If my health was a little better-but
that I have great fears of, however I shall hope for the best. From what Margaret Byers hinted in her letter I have every
reason to believe that my dear Margaret is a Mama before this time. If so God
grant that you and your little charge are as well and happy as I wish you. I
shall expect you will call one of your daughters for me; I must not look back
though I have lately thought I ought to be very thankful, for I now am convinced
that whatever is is for the best though we cannot think so at the time. I would
give worlds to see you all again, but know this is impossible until I get a
little more strength. I intended writing to my beloved Rachel by this conveyance,
but I will have to send my letter off to-day. It requires a long time for me now
to write one, however there will soon be a number of opportunities to send
letters and I shall soon write to her, the sweet darling! This I believe is her
birthday. 1 Oh, may every happiness attend her wherever she goes is
the prayer of her sister! Since I began this letter I cannot say I am much better or
worse, I suffer very little pain, have a tolerable appetite, and get a good deal
of rest. My wishes are almost anticipated before formed, so that it will not be
for the want of the greatest care and attention if I do not recover. We had great rejoicings and illuminations here last night,
on account of the victory gained over the British at New Orleans. We will have
them repeated some night soon again on account of the peace. Nothing can be
greater than the general joy and satisfaction on this blissful occasion. T
expect to get letters from Ireland some day soon by the ship that brought the
happy news. Mrs. J. Brown got letters from her friends; mine, of course, if
there were any would go to Petersburg, and I have not had time to get them sent
to me again. And now, my beloved Sister, my paper draws to a close, if
my health will admit you have a prospect of seeing me in Spring. If it pleases
Providence to dispose of me otherwise we must be resigned to His Will. I do not
feel the same reluctance at quitting this world which I did a few months ago,
and I trust we will all meet in a better land never more to part. Give a thousand loves to my beloved Father, Brother and
Sister: to your good man, Miss McCully and Margaret. That every blessing and happiness may attend you all is and
will be the constant prayer of your Mary Cumming. Mrs. James Ward.
Letter No.
281
My ever beloved and darling Sisters, Baltimore. As I have been getting weaker every day since I wrote to my
dear Margaret, I again take up my pen to try and write a few lines. Thank God
that I feel a little stronger today than I have done for some time past. Oh my
beloved Sisters, I too well know what you will all feel when this letter reaches
you, but I hope and trust that Providence will enable you to bear the mournful
news with composure. I hope I shall be quite so before Providence thinks fit to
remove me out of this world of care and sorrow. I do all I can to be so. I find
it a hard trial to think of leaving this world with all the prospects of
felicity which I thought I had to find in it. These are now all over and I must
try and prepare myself for another and better state where I believe I am now
soon going. My dear dear friends I have a great deal to say to you. I
wish I had strength sufficient to write to you all but that I have not at
present. It is possible that this letter will be given you by my
beloved darling William. Oh my friends, if ever you loved your poor Mary, show
it in your attention to one that was nearer to her than life. Try to cheer and
comfort his poor dear heart which I know will oppress him for the loss of one
whom he always treated with the most unremitting affection, kindness and regard,
but I know you will do this with the greatest pleasure. His own worth will
secure him the regard of all who have the happiness of knowing him. Talk to him
of me for this will please him. He has been my comfort and support during all
the sickness and sorrow which I have had and he is now the soother of every
moment of my life. I hope and trust we may be united in a better world, never
more to part. I cannot speak of the happiness I promised myself on my return
this Spring to my native country and to the beloved friends I left, that is over
now. William will take you a few seeds and roots. My dear Rachel
will show him what I once called my garden where I want them to be planted. Let
him have it to cultivate when he is with you. He is fond of flowers and this
will help to amuse him. Try and keep him with you in Ireland, I think he would
be much happier than here. I know my ever dear and beloved Father will do all in
his power to comfort and amuse one so every way deserving of his kindness and
affection. My illness has not been a severe one. I hardly suffer any
pain as yet. It seems to be a kind of gradual decline. For this I am, I hope,
very thankful and it will be a consolation to all my friends to know that I have
had the very best advice that America could give. I have met with every
attention from this family that I could have had even at home and if an All Wise
Providence now thinks fit to take me, I trust to a better world, I must
endeavour to be resigned to his Will. My attachment to this world was very
great, it is so still, but my dear friends, I look forward to a blessed reunion.
Any and every circumstance you may wish to hear, my dear William will take
pleasure in telling you, if you ask him. There are a few little trifles which it is my wish should
go to you to be divided between you in any way you think right. It is not for
their value but that there is a good deal of your poor Mary's work on them. I send back my dear James's brooch which I have always kept
with great regard. Give him now a sister's blessing who always adored him. Tell
him I hope he will prove an ornament to his family and name. Give him some of my
hair which you will receive by my love. But what shall I send to my adored Father, that father who
took such pains with me? Oh that I could think of something. He will require
nothing, nothing to remind him of me. I hope all his good instructions have not
been bestowed on me in vain. I can leave him nothing but my blessing, and may
every blessing this world can bestow light on his beloved head. God bless him. You would wonder if you saw how thin I am, that I could
write with such a steady hand, but so it is. You will give my most affectionate
love to my dear and very kind friends in Armagh, to my ever kind and most
attentive relation Miss McCully, and to my once lively and dear early companion
and friend Margaret Byers. I think with great affection and regard on the many
many friends I have left in Lisburn, please remember me to them all. Do not you remember, my beloved Sisters, some kind of
Spring Evenings I used to be particularly fond of? They were in the latter end
or beginning of April. On some such evening as I shall attempt to describe take
a walk to Charles Grove with my dear William and talk of me. Soft, mild and
calm, the twilight stealing on, the Bat flittering about and the Beetle humming
through the air. You will think then of me. I gratify myself writing these lines and this moment I feel
quite composed and perhaps I am more fanciful than usual. May God bless, protect, help and support you all through
this transient world and grant us all a happy meeting in a better beyond the
grave, is and will be, the last prayer of M. Cunning.
Letter No. 291
March 24th, 1815 My ever beloved and darling William, When these few lines will be given to you the writer of
them will be at rest and peace. They are, in all probability, the last that will
ever be written by me; I therefore wish them to belong to you. I leave them as a
little token of remembrance to you. I feel at present quite collected and
entirely free from any pain. When my ever-beloved William reads these lines I
well know how his affectionate heart will grieve (or the loss of his poor Mary;
but, my dear and ever kind Husband, think I am happy, as I firmly trust in the
Almighty I shall be, free from all care and sorrow, from pain and sickness, at
rest and peace with my Blessed Saviour. Try and be resigned to the will of
Providence. Think that in a few years we shall be united in another and far
better world, never never more to part, to know any sorrow or care. Let this
comfortable thought sustain you. Had it pleased God to have spared me with you a
little longer how happy I should have been; but that I must not repine at. You
have ever been the most affectionate, kind, attentive friend and husband to me
that it was possible to be. Let this console you that it was always your study
to make me happy. If I ever offended you, forgive me for it; but, alas! why need
I say so? We were almost too happy with one another. Go to our beloved native country, 2 there you
will find peace. Talk to my beloved friends of me. Tell them we will all meet in
a better world. If I can I will hover round and bless you wherever you go. You are gone out to Springfield,3 Margaretta 4
will give you these few imperfect lines when I am at rest and in happiness. I
know my ever-beloved William will value them for I well know he loved the poor
writer. I believe I have given all the directions I wish for. I enclose you a lock of my hair, which I wish you to keep
for yourself. You will like it better as my hands have put it up for you. The
rest will be given to my beloved Sisters. I did not intend writing so much, but I can hardly bring
myself to bid you farewell. My adored, beloved, dearest William could you but be
blessed and happy as I would have you to be. May the God of all consolation be
yours in all your trials in this world. Think your dear Mary is gone to prepare
a place in Heaven for you. Oh, God bless, bless, my ever adored William, will be
the last last prayer of his own own Mary Cumming. We shall be extremely happy in Heaven. Tell them at home
how much I loved them. God be your comfort, my love. We'll be resigned when woes betide, But cease, my William, cease to grieve,
By the aid of Divine Providence I arrived in this city on
4th Instant after a tolerably moderate passage of 38 days from Liverpool. Mr
John Oliver sailed from hence about five weeks since in the ship Belvidere for
Cowes. All our other friends m this place are in pretty god health. Brother
James reached this about two weeks since and is gone to Petersburg and there are
letters from thence to A. Brown and Sons from J. Cumming. Jun, which mention his
being well. It is fortunate your money was not invested in linens as
that article, as well as all other kinds of English and Irish manufactures have
become a mere dreg all over these States and will not command first cost and
charges. I understand tobacco is very high at this moment in England and here it
is also exceedingly high. Mr. Oliver was so kind as to take charge of the trunk
of wearing apparel which, as he was to land at Cowes, would I fear, put him to
much inconvenience in getting it conveyed round to Belfast. There is also a
small trunk lying at William and James Brown, Liverpool, with a few articles in
it which I took with me, and had ordered it forwarded to you along with the
other when it reached there. I shall now desire these Gentlemen to forward it by
first opportunity. There is nothing at all new in this country. Our National
Legislature have met but nothing of consequence has yet been done by that Body. I shall leave this in two or three days for Petersburg and
shall write you again in the course of three or four weeks. Be pleased to make
my love to Mr. and Mrs. Ward and Rachel. Meantime, I remain, Dear Sir, Yours most affectionately. William Cumming Rev. A. Craig. In April the following year William himself died in
Petersburg.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
