Comment
Money continues to be an issue for them―her need for it on occasion and his issues with lending/giving her money. And Mr. B is a regular presence in her life―she’s fond of him but Fred seems to have her true love. There is a rare mention of the war―World War I which had been going on for nearly a year, and by now American young men were starting to enlist.
Fred wonders why Roma is still unattached: “The only thing I wonder about you is that a girl of your type, attractiveness and worth has not been ‘stolen’, but that is not to be argued here.” Fred, the church regular and Sunday school teacher also engages in Biblical cadence: “You ‘posed’ for me and I liked your pose, you talked for me and I liked your speech, you rode and walked with me and I liked your companionship, you dined with me and I found you congenial, you sang with me and I liked your son, you smiled for me and I liked your smile and you (I thought) loved for me and I liked your love and returned it a hundred fold.”
[Cleveland, Ohio, 10:30 AM, July 6, 1915.]
My dearest Fred,
How do you like that for a salutation? This afternoon I wrote you a long, long letter, at the Colonial Hotel. When I had finished I was so used up, mentally and physically, that I had to go to bed. I have read and reread your letters, and each time I have gotten something new out of them. Dear, if I said anything in my first letter to cause you “anguish of soul, humility of spirit or ache of heart” I cannot imagine what I said this afternoon could cause. To me it was the most bitter thing that could have been said. However, I did not say it to cause you bitterness, altho I knew when I wrote it it would but it was just the way I felt. Since reading your letters so many times, I have wondered if there was not genuine bitterness and an unforgiving spirit in my own breast, and we must remember, if we do not forgive our debtors, we cannot hope to be forgiven. Even as willing and anxious as I am to forgive, yet I can’t for the life of me see your attitude. I suppose that is where the love and trust comes in. Anyway, to prove to you that I am sorry to hurt you, I am going to do exactly, what I said I never should do, and you know it takes a real humiliated spirit to do that, but I want you to know I do it because all bitterness is gone from my heart. I feel happier already. I am afraid with my traveling expenses and settling accounts here, I may be a little short, anyway I should feel more comfortable if I knew I had an extra five in my “National Bank.” Please do not send any more, because it will not be appreciated, and I want to pay it back next week.
Dear, I feel like my old self now; and I do so much want to see you. I am now your happy and affectionate little girl, and love you bushels. Now will you forget this miserable affair and love me more than ever? I think I must care for you more than I am willing to admit, because if I did not, I never could have done what I have.
Miss Dake has a charming young nephew down stairs who has just been graduated from Princeton, who I am supposed to go down and meet. I surely should not complain about the treatment this world has given me, altho I have had plenty of the bitter with the sweet. Sometimes I think more than my share.
My, I did want you last night, I want you now, so bad that it hurts, as Mr. B. says.
There is the dearest old lady here, she will be ninety-three next October. (Let me see what is your prayer?) Her hair is scarcely white, and she has all of her faculties. She is very erect and walks all over altho, of course slowly.
I do so dislike this Eastern Time. It seems as tho it is the middle of the forenoon before you get anything started, then the afternoon and evening steal away so quickly. You will think it is early evening and it will be ten o’clock, and you know that is fearfully late.
Oh dearie, I want you to “pump” Mr. Rawson and tell me what he says about us girls. (Lena & me.) We simply did not like Mr. Courtrights style so left. Of course Mr. B__ will tell you the particulars.
I’m getting so I can’t spell, so guess I had better close. I wish I could write as pretty and interesting letters as you do, but I can’t so of course you do not expect them. Anyway you may know they are sincere messages straight from the heart.
With my best love, Roma. 1901-E-69th.
[Written at the top of the first page:] P.S. If you can, I want you to go to Chautauqua Tuesday P.M. and hear for me what Miss Heath has to say on “The Art of Story Telling.” Lake notes. I hope to need it sometime. (?)
[Cleveland, Ohio, 3 PM, July 6, 1915. Letter written on two long strips of wrapping parchment.]
Wednesday A.M.
Dearest Fred:
If you could only see me now. I am in Gordon Park, all alone. I have found an ideal isolated spot near the edge of the lake. How beautiful it is to look out over the vast expanse of blue and green, and hear the waves as they swish against the shore. If these surroundings could not bring out sentiment, I don’t know what would. I spent most of my waking hours yesterday writing to you and it looks as if I am going to do the same today.
I received your nice letter this morning, and I can’t tell you how glad I always am to hear from you.
I was up to see Mr. Ferris this morning, and he told me near where he was going to send me, and I have forgotten. Seems as tho it was Blue something. However it is on the border line between Virginia and West Virginia. Almost straight south I believe from Portsmouth. How does that sound? I am just crazy over this work, and am anxious to get busy. However, the way I spend my time, writing letters, instead of studying, does not indicate that I am, but you know men have paid higher prices for sentiment than that. For instance, the clipping you sent yesterday. That was indeed ‘terrible’ I believe I should go crazy if a brother or sweetheart of mine should go to war. Oh, I simply can’t imagine it.
Have you seen my dear Mr. B__ since his trip to Toledo? Won’t he laugh over that letter. He asked me which one of you two I liked the better. I said I liked you both alike. He said “you do not, and I am going to find out.” I can’t imagine how, because I couldn’t tell if I were to be shot. I like you both in a different way, and I wouldn’t for the world be the cause of either of you feeling badly. I do know that Mr. Bowe likes me awfully well. It was so manifest especially when he stopped on his way to Toledo. He also likes May Farmer awfully well too. I have gotten Mr. B__ to the point where he says he likes children, but would not want to have any of his own. Then he did say “he guessed it would be nice when you get old.” Score for our side. I would rather hear him say that than anything. It shows signs of civilization. But I am afraid it is possible to have “too much” civilization and to think that I should have two friends, the best in the world, so opposite. Shall I elucidate?
As much as I should like to see you dear, I would rather you would wait until I move. I have left my trunk at the station and have scarcely nothing in my suitcase, and what I have is dirty. Had I known I was going to live in the suitcase I might have made different arrangements. Anyway I expect to move Thursday and I would rather “wait.” Altho, I will admit, I have a more ideal spot than we had in Marion.
Boo! but I am cold. Just think of having resort to the sun. But I have seen sons I did not object resorting to.
Am so glad you are enjoying the Chautauqua so much. Nothing would make me more happy than to enjoy it with you. It is just the kind of recreation I like. I see you and Mr. B__ both are fond of red hair. what a pity my hair is not red—wouldn’t there be excitement if it were? I would do almost anything for excitement. Maybe, I would dye it. You know that is what you are going to do.
I am just rereading your letter. I see Aunt Mary is quite a factor with you. Well anyway, if she should go on a vacation, let me take her place. I find in looking over the menu, that I am quite capable of caring it out to the letter, except, slicing the tomatoes, so I suppose I will be considered N.G. Anyway, I should enjoy sitting down to a table, spread as you have described but if I were to eat it, I should prefer having Aunt Mary prepare it.
Well dear, as I have written all the nonsense I can think of, will close with very much love,
Roma.
How do you like my paper? “Invention is the mother of trade.” I am staying at 1901 E. 69th St. but get mail Gen. Del.
[Cleveland, Ohio, 8 PM, July 6, 1915. Postcard.]
Here comes one of those “Fridged” kind. Say I have been thinking, and accidently a bright idea struck me. Write me a special delivery to 1901 – E. 69th St., stating the population of Huntington, the industries, if in operation, is it a pretty place, among the hills or on the river? I have an idea I can go nearly anyplace I want to. Write this P.D.Q.
Roma.
1901 – E. 69th. St.
[July 6, 1915]
My dearest Roma Belle,
I have just returned from the Chautauqua where I heard a splendid program given by Ferullos’ band. I was not alone, as one of my girl friends was with me and you were with me too, my mind refused to leave you. I wonder if your ears burned?
When I arrived home this evening about six o’clock, along with some other mail, I found your generous sized letter. It made me glad just to get a glimpse of the envelope with its familiar hand writing. I went out on the porch where I could be alone to read it. I have not yet seen Mr. B. so the letter addressed to Messrs. W. and B. he has not seen. I will confess to you that I am altogether too selfish to share with another anything involving you. I think it a sin and a shame that you were all alone in that big city both Sunday and Monday—why, my dearest girl, do you know I was thinking about you all the time and wishing I might be with you and tell you so many things I have on my mind. There isn’t enough stationery in this town to hold all that I want to tell you. You said you were at the Duchess Theatre and that you became blue and lonesome and that it was then that you wanted to come home and write to me. O, how sweet was that thought. I appreciate its tenderness.
You accuse me of saying nice things about you and of writing flowery letters; allow me to say, my precious Roma Belle, that for some time, you have been the inspiration of almost every happy thought I have had, and I find the limited vocabulary at my command very much overtaxed for words adequate and flitting to express the many kind and sweet thoughts I entertain of you. To indulge in a little slang let me further say that I have trotted square with you from start to finish. I know no other way. In common with you, I hate and despise flattery, but certainly lay claim to being sincere with you. How could I be otherwise and respect and love you as I do? I regret that it has taken you so long to believe this. To quote “I can’t see what there is about me to be attractive.” You “posed” for me and I liked your pose, you talked for me and I liked your speech, you rode and walked with me and I liked your companionship, you dined with me and I found you congenial, you sang with me and I liked your son, you smiled for me and I liked your smile and you (I thought) loved for me and I liked your love and returned it a hundred fold. I have looked beyond and beneath your pretty face and wearing apparel and discovered a beautiful character sparkling with those sweet and tender womanly virtues that make such a strong appeal to mature judgment and sense of appreciation.
Yes, my dear Roma Belle, you are beautiful to me and you are sweet and you are adorable.
I am glad you declined any attentions from the young man at the restaurant.
Yes, my dearest and sweetest girl, you have given me untold agony, my letter did not tell the half; you ask for forgiveness, which I gladly grant. I could not be angry with you no matter what you say or do. I love you too much for that. I am determined that no barrier shall remain between us and I know that the fire of my love is sufficient to burn any away. I have never doubted you. The only thing I wonder about you is that a girl of your type, attractiveness and worth has not been “stolen”, but that is not to be argued here. I prefer to avoid going into a further discussion in a letter of our recent misunderstanding, somehow, I feel that I shall see you soon and then I now I shall be able to make very clear to you, my dearest girl, the whole matter. However, before leaving this matter, I cannot refrain from again quoting from your letter received this evening “but no matter what circumstances I should find myself, I should never ask you for help or let you know,” and you ask if this hurts and you wanted it to hurt. O, you of whom I am so fond, must know how that hurts. Dear, you wanted it to hurt and you have surely succeeded. To make the sting more acute you even underscore the word that means eternity. Dear, did you think of that when you wrote it? “Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.” Your remarks concerning our conversation about Mr. B. were noted. These things are between you and me only. My dearest, it is now after midnight and I have not written half what I wanted to say. I am going to close this as the first section of my letter and will hurry over to the train box with it.
For these things that hurt so bad I can only send in exchange from the abundance of my heart more love and yet more love.
Your picture is before me and O what delightful memories it brings up. What thoughts, so rich, so sweet, so tender are aroused by looking upon it.
Good night, my dear Roma Belle, may the blessings of Heaven rest upon you.
With all my love
F.B.W.
July 6 ‑ 1915.
My dearest Roma Belle,
Well, at last, you have addressed me with the salutation that I was hoping for, without instruction from me, although, I remember you asked me “what I might call you” to which I have as yet made no reply. This familiarity breathes a tenderness I sincerely appreciate.
I cannot tell you how happy I was made to feel by your two letters received this morning. Time at the moment does not allow for a reply, but dear heart, it will not be delayed. The New York draft for ten dollars complies (and then some) with your request. The excess sent provides for emergencies. I trust you will experience no difficulty in cashing it. A personal check is hard to use, especially in a big city. I hope your “National Bank” will not be too puffed up or out by this new deposit.
I am hoping to hear from you again tomorrow. With all my love, I am as ever,
Your “bestest” and loving friend,
F.B.W.
7/7/15 2 P.M.
QBA 