|Title:||Cist, Sarah H. to O'Brien (n. Greeves), Anne, 1819|
|Collection||The Transatlantic Letters of an Irish Quaker Family_1818-1877 [B. Jackson]|
|Sender||Cist, Sarah H.|
|Origin||Wilkesbarre, near Philadelphia, Penn., USA|
|Destination||Philadelphia, Penn., USA|
|Recipient||O'Brien (n. Greeves), Anne|
|Transcript||Wilksbarre July 7th 1819|
My dear Ann
You will most probably be surprised, but I hope not despleased, that upon such transient an acquaintance as ours,
I should presume to write to you. My inclination strongly inclined me to do so, ever since your departure from
our valley, but it was not until this evening at the request of your good Aunt that I resolved to accomplish it.
If you consider the liberty a very great one, I have only to appeal to your generosity and known goodness of heart
to excuse it. I dislike long apologies and feel confident that mine has already [been] made.
I have nothing of consequence to communicate, nothing that will interest you, but what Mr. Oar will be more
competent to communicate verbally of, relative to your friends here; and beside Uncle Jo is going to write on
those most interesting subjects to you himself, so that poor I will have nothing to write about but myself and my
own feelings. As I am a great egotist, you will readily conceive therefore that myself must be a very interesting
subject to me, dull as it may be to you.
You cannot conceive how much we have missed you since you left us. Our rambles, which by the way, have been
but few lately, are not nearly so pleasant as when they were enlivened by the presence of yourself and your good
William - and our dear Uncle Jo does not look so pleased and happy as when you were by to kiss him, pull his
curls and tell him stories of Ireland. To do him justice, however, I must say that he is trying to make amends to
himself for his chagrin on that account by being gallant to some very amiable ladies of this place. He has been
ereosting [?] at a great rate, but I will not mention names, for as I suspect - he will make you his confident; he
shall have all the merit of the confession himself, and I will not be so ungenerous as to tell tales.
I have spent one delightful day at Moyallon since you left us. It was the anniversary of my birthday and we
celebrated it quite in style. Uncle Jo set Phoebe and me to raking hay. We made sad work of it, I believe, for he
gave us no credit for it, and found fault with us more than once for wasting it and tumbling it the wrong way.
We had our revenge, for we soon induced him to leave the field and walk with us in the woods, when, plagued as
he was, we dragged him over the logs and through the underwood, until I suspect that he began to wish us in Jerico.
We talked much of you and whenever a fine view in the landscape attracted our attention we could not help
wishing that you were present to enjoy it with us - although we could not but know that you were more happily
engaged at home.
But my dear Ann must not be too happy to not remember us. For my individual self I know that my claim to
a place in your memory is small, but if a regard and esteem most sincere merit any reward I do not deserve to be
entirely forgotten. Tell William too that I begun to love him a good deal and should soon have loved him most
dearly if he had not been in such haste to escape from us, and to carry you away too was too bad. I am sorry that
our romantic little valley had so few attractions for him, to say nothing of the clever folks it contains. But he will certainly have the goodness to bring you again and I hope very soon among us: then and not till then shall his
forgivness he accorded. I know what inducement to hold out to him: when I was a child I paid for everything with
kisses - if they could have any value he could have plenty.
All chis long foolish letter and not one word of enquiry about darling Maria. How is she? How did she bear the
journey? Does she grow? And is she as good as ever? You will surely write me a few lines, if it is only to tell me about
her. I know that you must be much engaged, that you have but few moments to spare from your immediate friends,
but have the goodness, if you cannot find time to write me a whole letter, to just add a postscript to me in one to
your Uncle Jo, just to say that you will not forget me. Sister Emily desires to be most affectionately remembered to
you and William — she loves you very much. Jacob also joins me in love to you both. I am, dear Ann,
with much sincerity and affection, yours
S. H. Cist