Thank you for your enthusiastic responses! I have a handful of letters that I can share with you that I have transcribed as completely as I could. Some words were not readable, mostly because the letters were bound in a volume so that words close to the binding could not be made out. If I could not make out a word, I replaced it with “…” or guessed at the word, surrounding it with brackets and putting a question mark. It is usually possible to make out the meaning despite the missing words. As a rule, I kept the punctuation as I saw it unless it interfered with understanding what was written (and these cases were very rare).
My intention is to present these letters without initial commentary, though I will comment on it after reading yours.
This letter comes from the Houghton Library at Harvard University, from the Amos B. Alcott Family Letters, MS Am 1130.9 (27).
Here is how Anna was seeing her life in March of 1857:
This being my 26th birthday I … feel cross, old, and miserable, in which … and Christian state of mind I sit down and write to you who never feel either.
The day is dark and dismal and things don’t look very cheering within or without but we are hoping great things from your … which I am sure will cheer mother up more than anything that could happen, and … us all as to the summer plans.
I rather think it will be decided to stay here in the old house and try another season, tho’ we hope you will bring some new ideas with you to impact this last one which I’m afraid didn’t suit mother, but we can arrange something till you come. A “least said poorest mended” is a wise old proverb.
I found in my journal this little birthday poem from mother
“More to me than jewels rare.
“Are my Anna’s graces fair
“Goodness, Truth and Love.
“All are there my gentle dove.
“If our bark be tempest tost (sic)
“God’s our refuge we’re not lost
“May love be thine
“Firm hope by mine
They are sweet lines and I pray they may come true. I am sure she deserves everything good that can be heaped upon her poor [dear?] woman and I’m sure all will be right sometime.
I am awfully blue[,] discouraged about myself [&] my future doings but I try to amuse myself and when I get very cross, run on gossip about town to cheer up. It is better than nothing and makes the dull days pass.
Louisa is deep in Theatres, Abby in drawing; both write cheerful funny letters, both [advise?] us to keep still for the present and “want” (?). Lizzy is miserably and tho’ better today out of sorts bodily and thin as a rail, but hoping much from the warm days and sunshine of which we see very little just now.
The young people are all leaving town and everything is quieter and sensible. There are no news I believe and all else I leave mother to tell. We are looking for a letter tonight [&] hope to kiss your “wise” face very very soon. & so goodbye – Annie
I put in my birthday note from Louisa which is a more lovely letter than I believed she could write. Pussy is dead, ain’t you glad.
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