![[Domestic Letters]](Ltrs_Dom.jpg)
DOMESTIC letters are those of an intimate, friendly, or an affectionate nature, hence they are in character and style totally different from all preceding letters, and may claim a wider range of thought, a nicer discernment in the choice of words, a more finished and ornamental style of expression. Such letters must be regulated by the degree of respect the person claims of us, by reason of age, relationship, the strength of our esteem, or warmth of our attachment. Their great excellence is naturalness. They should be written in a free, easy, unconstrained manner. Written carefully and correctly always, and if gracefully and elegantly, all the better; but a stiff, pedantic, and affected style should be avoided.
Domestic letters are the promptings of the heart, hence admit of all the details of every occupation, scene and interest, for to one who loves us nothing that concerns us is trivial or uninteresting. The letter that contains the most of home matters and feelings, anything, everything that calls up the picture of home, with all its dear associations, and makes us forget for the moment that we are separated from them is the letter that delights the far away friend and relative, and proves the link that binds these hearts closely together, though faces and loving eyes are far asunder.
An entertaining and punctual correspondent will have a host of friends, and parents should encourage the youth of both sexes in keeping up the ties of friendship formed at school and in early childhood, by frequent correspondence. They will thus acquire that ease and fluency of expression which is one of the most valuable and desirable accomplishments that can be acquired by either lady or gentleman.
Frequent correspondence between friends and relatives will keep strong and bright the ties that bind each to the other. When a child leaves home, the eyes of his parent can no longer watch over, nor can their lips any longer give him instructions. For the future their counsels must be written ones, and the child at first will often find it necessary to apply to them for advice; but, surrounded by new acquaintances and attention taken up by change of scene, it is more than likely that for a time he will neglect and forget his parents. Not so, however, the parents their child. They follow him away, the miss him from the table, their thoughts are frequently sent after him, and they have many an anxiety which nothing but his attentions can alleviate. No friend can feel so deeply interested for his welfare, and none is so well qualified to advise, and make allowance for the errors of youth, to judge with candor, to censure with mildness, to point out the right path, or to reclaim from the wrong one.
Friendship implies confidence. Open your heart to your friend in your letters. Have no concealments. Trust him as you expect to be trusted. You have common friends and congenial tastes, read the same books, and enjoy similar pleasures, and therefore have a thousand topics of interest on which to write to each other. You are interested in his plans, hopes, fears, successes, failures. You sympathize in his joys and in his sorrows. No wonder that letters of friendship, when written in the true spirit of friendship, when frank, sincere, and full of heart, are so charming!
The style of letters of friendship should be similar to that of domestic letters, free, easy, and unrestrained, but as correct, graceful and elegant as may be.
From a Mother to a Daughter at School.
LACROSSE, WIS., May 14, 1881.
My Dear Daughter:—Although we are separated in person, yet you are never absent from my thoughts; and it is my continual practice to recommend you to the care of that Being whose eyes are on all his creatures, and to whom the secrets of all hearts are open; but I have been somewhat alarmed because your last two letters do not run in that strain of unaffected piety as formerly. What, my dear, is the reason? Does virtue appear unpleasant to you? Is your beneficent Creator a hard taskmaster, or are you resolved to embark in the fashionable follies of a gay, unthinking world? Excuse me, my dear, I am a mother, and my concern for your happiness is inseparably connected with my own. Perhaps I am mistaken, and what I have considered as a fault may be only the effusions of youthful gaiety. I shall consider it in that light, and be extremely glad, yea happy, to find it so. Useful instructions are never too often inculcated, and, therefore, give me leave again to put you in mind of that duty the performance of which alone can make you happy both in time and eternity.
Religion, my dear, is a dedication of the whole soul to the will of God, and virtue is the actual operation of that truth, which diffuses itself through every part of our conduct; its consequences are equally beneficial as its promises: “Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.”
Whilst the gay, unthinking part of youth are devoting the whole of their time to fashionable pleasures, how happy shall I be to hear that my child is religious, without hypocritical austerity, and even gay with innocence. Let me beg that you will spend at least one hour each day in perusing your Bible, and some of our best American and English writers; and do not imagine that religion is such a gloomy thing as some enthusiasts have represented; no, it indulges you in all rational amusements not inconsistent with morality; it forbids nothing but what is hurtful.
I beg that you will consider attentively what I have written, and write to me as soon as possible.
Your anxious mother,
MARY BALDWIN.
Answer to the Foregoing.
SPARTA, WIS., May 20, 1881.
My Dear Mother:—I am so much affected by the perusal of your kind, parental advice, that I can scarcely hold the pen to write an answer; but duty to the best of parents obliges me to make you easy in your mind before I take any rest to myself. That levity, so conspicuous in my former letters, is too true to be denied; nor do I desire to draw a veil over my own folly. No, I freely confess it, but, with great sincerity, I must at the same time declare that they were written in a careless manner, without considering the character of the person to whom they were addressed. I am fully sensible of my error, and on all future occasions shall endeavor to avoid giving the least offense. The advice you sent me in your valuable letter needs no encomium; all that I desire is to have it engraven [sic] in my heart. My dear mother, I love religion, I love virtue, and I hope no consideration will ever lead me from these duties, in which alone I expect future happiness. Le me beg to hear from you often, and I hope that my whole future conduct will convince the best of parents that I am what she wishes me to be.
Your affectionate and dutiful daughter,
LILLIAN.
An Absent Husband to His Wife.
EASTON, November 13, 1756.
My Dear Wife:—I wrote to you, few days since, by a special messenger, and inclosed [sic] letters for our wives and sweethearts, expecting to hear from you by his return, and to have the Northern newspapers and English letters per the packet; but he is just now returned without a scrap for poor us; so I had a good mind not to write to you by this opportunity; but I never can be ill-natured enough, even when there is the most occasion. The messenger says that he left the letters at your house, and saw you afterward at Mr. Duche’s, and told you when he would go, and that he lodged at Honey’s, next door to you, and yet you did not write. So let Goody Smith give one more last judgment, and say what should be done to you. I think I won’t tell you that we are well, nor that we expect to return about the middle of the week, nor will I send you a word of news—that’s pox.
My duty to mother, love to the children, and to Miss Betsey and Gracey, etc., etc.
I am your loving husband,
B. FRANKLIN.
P. S.—I have scratched out the loving words, being writ in haste by mistake, when I forgot I was angry.
From a Young Lady to Her Mother, Absent from Home.
TOLEDO, May 16, 1881.
My Own Dear Mother:—We are looking forward most impatiently to your return. Home will be sweet home once more when we have you among us again, for we have all missed you sadly these long evenings. The little ones are wild with delight. Their heads are full of projects for little surprises to give dear mamma. The choicest flowers that each can claim as her own are watched with anxious care, and are destined to be sweet offerings of their love to you.
I hope, dear mother, you will be pleased with my household management during your absence. Papa considers me quite clever, and a credit to your able teaching; still I know I am but a beginner, and each day I feel more and more the need of your teaching, particularly in directing the servants, whom I cannot praise too much for their attention and industry.
Hoping that nothing will delay your long wished for return, with best love, in which all unite,
Believe me, your own
Fondly attached and loving child,
JANE M. CLAY.
From a Lady in the Country to a Young Friend in the City.
THE CASCADE, August 25, 1881.
My Dear Belle:—I am afraid that I am getting stupid, for I cannot recollect whether I am in your debt a letter, as well as for the pretty things you were so kind as to purchase for me. They are quite new fashions here. Many thanks for them.
I am writing these few lines to let you know that Harry is in New York on a visit to a friend on Madison avenue. A good match, dear. He has a nice little income and a good business. There is one drawback, however: he has a temper of his own and is rather small in stature, but a kind and affectionate wife would improve his temper. He is very kind hearted.
I see by advertisements in the papers that dresses for winter wear are cheap; should you see two that would suit Molly and myself (you know our favorite colors) will you please purchase them for me? I hope it will be no inconvenience to you to do so; if it be, decline at once. All unite in the most affectionate love to your uncle.
Believe me, my dear,
Yours affectionately,
WINNIE.
From a Young Lady at School to Her Mother.
SOUTH BEND, IND., April 19, 1881.
My Dearest Mamma:—Although I was almost heartbroken at parting from you for the first time in my life, I felt that you would never have let me quit home but for my own good; and I hope I am not ungrateful enough to prefer mere selfish gratification to future welfare.
I find school much less disagreeable than I had expected. There are, of course, many variations of disposition—for a school is like a little world—but, for the most part, the girls make themselves very pleasant to me. Mrs. Bond is kindness itself, and sets an example of mutual good will to all of us.
My studies are, I think, progressing satisfactorily, although I am, of course, in the background as yet, especially in my French. The music master is rather passionate, especially if we play out of time, which you know, dear mamma, used to be an unfortunate fault of your Bertha. But he takes great pains, and I think you will have less to complain of in my playing when I return.
How I long to kiss and embrace you again! God bless you, dear mamma, and believe me,
Your ever affectionate child,
BERTHA.
TO MRS. WM. LORD.
Answer to the Foregoing.
DETROIT, April 28, 1881.
My Dearest Child:—I was delighted to receive your affectionate and gratifying letter. Believe me, that for a widowed mother to be parted from her only darling is a sad trial, especially when the elasticity of youth and health is much diminished. I shall look forward with joy to the midsummer vacation, when I intend to take you with me on a trip to the White Mountains. You will have an opportunity of seeing many of these wonders of nature which you have only read in books, as well as of strengthening your health, and returning to school with greater aptitude and relish for study.
Write to me from time to time, and let me know all the news of your “little world;” for, believe me, everything that pertains to the welfare and progress of my darling child, is of consequence in the eyes of your mother.
Pray present my kind respects to Mrs. Bond, and thank her for her kindly care of you.
That God may bless you and make you all that I could wish, is the constant prayer of
Your affectionate mother,
FRANCES LORD.
From a Little Girl Waiting to Come Home.
PARK SEMINARY.
Dear Mamma:—Oh, I am so tired of this place! I cannot learn so many things at once; and I cannot bear going to bed without kissing you. You know, mamma, I have never been away from you before, and I feel as if I should die of grief if you do not let me come home again. Do, mamma, do, and I will love you forever.
Your miserable child,
DOLLIE.
TO MRS. W. WARREN.
Answer to the Foregoing.
MILWAUKEE, May 16, 1881.
My Dear Child:—I am sorry that you should pain me by so unreasonable a request. You know well that nothing pleases me more than to have all of you around me; but you must recollect that all your brothers and sisters have been to school before you, and they never complained at all. I know that you, being the youngest, have been petted a great deal by all of us; but for that very reason you ought to try and give us pleasure by growing up a good and clever girl.
Believe me, my dear child, you will find school become more pleasant every day, as you get better acquainted with your schoolfellows, and as your improvement gains the approval of your mistress. Youth, my dear little girl, is the proper time for exertion; for if we once lose the precious hours of early life, we have naught to look back to but disappointment and regret.
I have written to Mrs. French to ask her not to give you quite so many lessons at first, and have no doubt she will do all to assist you. But you must try to be happy, and look forward to the Christmas vacation as the reward of the little self privation you are at present undergoing. With the united kind loves of your father, brothers and sisters,
Your affectionate mother,
MARTHA WARREN.
TO MISS DOLLIE WARREN.
Announcing the Vacation.
HIGHLAND PARK SEMINARY, June 10, 1881.
My Dear Parents:—It is with mingled feelings of regret and pleasure that I announce that the termination of this half year’s work is fixed for the 25th instant. I sincerely hope that I shall not only find you both in excellent health, but that you will be satisfied with my improvement since I last left home. No pains have been spared by any of my teachers to render me worthy of your good opinion; and I must ever feel grateful, both to them and to yourselves, for the pains bestowed upon my education.
Miss Clark desires me to present her best compliments; and, with my best love to my sisters and brothers, believe me to remain,
My dear parents,
Your ever dutiful and affectionate daughter,
CLARA.
From a Daughter Acknowledging a Present.
ALEXANDRIA, April 4, 1881.
My Dear Father:—How kind of you to think of me immediately after your return from Paris! The trinkets you sent are so very beautiful, that I should have been afraid of exciting the envy of my schoolfellows, had it not been for the liberal supply of French confectionery (of which, I assure you, very little now remains) by which they were accompanied. I assure you, I spare no trouble to win the good opinion of my schoolmistress and teachers; and, if I may judge from their kindness toward me, I am not altogether unsuccessful.
I am enjoying excellent health and spirits; but I hope now you are in New York, you will sometimes run down and see your daughter, for, believe me, nothing but an occasional thought of poor, widowed papa, ever intrudes upon my cheerfulness. Mrs. Nelson has frequently expressed a wish to see you, so that I shall look forward with anxiety for that happy occasion.
Again thanking you for your thoughtful and liberal kindness,
Believe me to remain,
My dear father,
Your ever affectionate and grateful daughter,
MABEL.
TO ELLIOTT SUMNER, ESQ.
To a Daughter on her Birthday.
ATLANTA, May 12, 1881.
My Dearest Child:—Your father, brothers, and sisters all unite with me in wishing you a thousand good wishes on this your __th anniversary. We could all have wished that circumstances would have allowed of your spending it with us; but feeling, in these matters, must oftentimes be sacrificed to utility, and our selfish delights must not be suffered to interfere with the prospects of those dear to us. The package which accompanies this letter contains not only some trifling tokens of affection from all of us, but the materials for a little entertainment which, I have no doubt, Mrs. Parsons will allow you to give to your school fellows, as I have written to beg a half holiday on this occasion.
God bless you, my dear child! and that every succeeding year may see you increase in all that is desirable in body and mind, is the earnest prayer of your ever anxious parents. With best compliments to your mistress and teachers,
Believe me,
Your ever affectionate mother,
ELLEN WOOD.
TO MISS CLARISSA WOOD.
From a Husband, Absent on Business, to his Wife.
ST. LOUIS, May 21, 1881.
My Dear Wife:—This is the first time, my darling, we have ever experienced the bitterness and misery of separation, and the few days I have already been absent from you appear like years. What my state of mind will be at the expiration of another two or three weeks, I will let your little affectionate heart conjecture. But I must not be selfish, my dearest Flora. You share my trial, but do not be down hearted, the time will soon pass away. You must go out and visit the good friends near you. Your dear, kind mother also is within an easy walk, I am glad to think.
I am glad to tell you that my trip has been more prosperous than I ventured to hope. I have succeeded in making arrangements which will greatly enlarge my business during the coming year. I need not tell you that the thought that all my efforts, if successful, will but increase your comfort and happiness, spurs me on to still greater exertion.
I leave to night for Kansas City, where I shall spend to morrow. Thence I go to Omaha, from which place I will write to you again.
Hoping to be with you again within a week, I remain, with love to your mother, and a hundred kisses to yourself,
Your affectionate husband,
J. D. WILLIAMS.
Letter to a Lady, on Hearing Accidentally that She is Married.
BINGHAMPTON, April 26, 1881.
My Dear Ella:—Accept my sincere congratulations on your marriage. I felt as first inclined to be a little cross, at your having kept us (your old friends) in such total ignorance of your engagement to Mr. Murray. Why did you not let us know that you were married? We heard of it by the merest accident. We know your husband well, and if any man can be worthy of one so truly excellent as yourself, we believe he is the person. From our knowledge of him we believe that you have every prospect of being a very happy woman, and this assurance gives us true pleasure.
Accept my sincere congratulations on your marriage. I felt as first inclined to be a little cross, at your having kept us (your old friends) in such total ignorance of your engagement to Mr. Murray. Why did you not let us know that you were married? We heard of it by the merest accident. We know your husband well, and if any man can be worthy of one so truly excellent as yourself, we believe he is the person. From our knowledge of him we believe that you have every prospect of being a very happy woman, and this assurance gives us true pleasure.
Believe me,
Most affectionately yours,
JENNIE WING.
TO MRS. ELLA MURRAY.
Young Lady to Her Mother, Informing Her of a Proposal.
READING, May 18, 1881.
My Dearest Mother:—I have very wonderful tidings to communicate to you! Yesterday Mr. Lawrence, of whom we have seen a good deal since I came to my aunt’s, joined me on the terrace (where I was walking), and after a little unimportant conversation, suddenly proposed to me! I was very much astonished, for I had no idea that he cared for me. I have referred him to you, as of course I cannot decide without your advice and approval. But, dearest mamma, I like him very much better than any one whom I have ever seen, and if you would not think it imprudent of us to marry on his small income, I think I could be very happy with him.
I do not think that riches confer happiness, and I should be content, myself, to share his moderate means and struggle to get on with him, hoping for better days to come—in a pecuniary sense I mean.
He is a very religious man, mamma; and very good tempered. I could trust him fully, and look up to him as a guide and advisor.
My aunt knew that he intended to make me an offer, and says that she thinks “I might do worse,” which is warm approval from her.
Pray, dearest mother, let me hear from you by return of post. I cannot help feeling restless until this affair is settled.
Ever your loving and obedient child,
FLO.
TO MRS. R. S. STEELE.
![[Home]](smHome.gif)
![[Back]](smBack.gif)
![[Up]](smUp.gif)
![[Next]](smNext.gif)