February 8, 1868
Dear Owen,
More abot your mother Emilene.
What with Broodhall and her living in Cambridge we see each othr almost ever day. And on Sundays to the regular Baptist church. Women in town liked to visit Emilene. They told me they come get a dose of Emilene elixir. I know it wasn't her looks since it was women. She was pretty wit her black hair and frekels. She said no wise words or funny and she cook as good as most but nothing specil. Those women just like to walk talk work next to her awhile. That made them happy. Because she learnt to be happy even tho her parents taken sudden like that. It was the blood of Jesus I know becaus I pray a long time so she wont be sad.
Sometimes Broodhall has to go to Marietta to get iron for the blacksmith. When the weather was good Emilene goes too. Other times she stays with me. In the morning that last time we look at each other and knowed we wer worrying abot the same thing. Broodhall is late coming back. Dinner time here come his wagon with Broodhall dead in back. Man from the iron place says accident with crane dropping the iron killed him.
Emilene cried and cried. I wonderd if she ever stop. She say she miss her Broodhall then she say she miss her family. Sometimes I don't know who she miss most. But we talk and walk and work together sometime sing a hymn from church we know.
Thats all tonite
Love, Gama Harriet
The hymn is real. The letter is an invention.
Dear Owen,
More abot your mother Emilene.
What with Broodhall and her living in Cambridge we see each othr almost ever day. And on Sundays to the regular Baptist church. Women in town liked to visit Emilene. They told me they come get a dose of Emilene elixir. I know it wasn't her looks since it was women. She was pretty wit her black hair and frekels. She said no wise words or funny and she cook as good as most but nothing specil. Those women just like to walk talk work next to her awhile. That made them happy. Because she learnt to be happy even tho her parents taken sudden like that. It was the blood of Jesus I know becaus I pray a long time so she wont be sad.
Sometimes Broodhall has to go to Marietta to get iron for the blacksmith. When the weather was good Emilene goes too. Other times she stays with me. In the morning that last time we look at each other and knowed we wer worrying abot the same thing. Broodhall is late coming back. Dinner time here come his wagon with Broodhall dead in back. Man from the iron place says accident with crane dropping the iron killed him.
Emilene cried and cried. I wonderd if she ever stop. She say she miss her Broodhall then she say she miss her family. Sometimes I don't know who she miss most. But we talk and walk and work together sometime sing a hymn from church we know.
Where dost thou dear shepherd resortI tell her she still got me long past 60 years old and not goin to leave. And Jesus too.
with thy sheep to feed them in pastures of love.
Say why in the valley of death should I weep
or alone in this wilderness rove.
Thats all tonite
Love, Gama Harriet
The hymn is real. The letter is an invention.
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