Comments
Dr. Frank Crane, Fred’s “favorite living writer,” is the uncle of Henry Hitt Crane of Central Methodist Church in Detroit where my father’s family were active parishioners. Crane influenced my dad’s pacifism and performed my parents’ wedding ceremony in 1940.
Roma gets a teaching job in Fostoria that will pay $90 per month, as well as an offer of a Sunday job at the Presbyterian Church for $5 a week.
The last letter here, from Roma, references a telegram from Fred which has disturbed her greatly. I cannot find this telegram among the letters I’ve transcribed and so do not know its contents.
My dearest Roma:
I have hied myself to the quiet of my own room to write you a line, not that I am in an especially better writing mood, but to satisfy my desire to have a word with you. The card I sent has informed you of my safe return Tuesday morning. I am still full of my visit. It would seem superfluous to say that I enjoyed it. This stay was prolonged, as were the others, beyond my initial plans. The cause is not hard to find. “There’s a reason.” You, dear Roma, are at once the cause and reason. Your amiableness makes you surpassing sweet, and your charming personality is most pleasing. It seems to me you truly radiate every attribute that finds it source and root in love. My fondness for you has been strong, indeed, and seems to grow with the passing days.
I rode down town in the coupe this morning with Mr. B. It was the first time I had seen him since my return. He had many questions to ask. He said “why don’t you marry that girl?” I think it was intended to be semi sarcastic.
* * *
Dearest Roma, this is Friday morning, all that precedes this was written Wednesday and not until now have I been able to resume my pleasant duty. I am not lacking for a text, for you precious Roma furnish me a text upon which I could grow eloquent.
Retrospection springs into life, thoughts, tender and fragrant “like perfume from the blossom of the heart” and the sweet wine of memory receives added flavor. It is as a story of love that shall live in deathless memory.
Yesterday’s paper contained a short note concerning Dr. Frank Crane, my favorite living writer. I am enclosing it and a number of articles he has written, which I have clipped from the papers during the past year or so. Kindly return at your convenience. I am sure you will enjoy them as they contain rich and wholesome philosophy. I know you will find good use for the car tickets I am enclosing. Our three little visitors from Ironton were so anxious to see you. They have seen your picture and think you are so beautiful. The two girls Miriam and Elizabeth are making pleasing progress with their music and were delighted with the musical monologue.
I am invited out for Sunday evening next to meet two young ladies that will spend the week end at the home of one of my friends. They will arrive to-day from Cincinnati.
I am wondering whether you have made use of the needle and thread sent you. And how about our favorite green—have you it finished?
I was asked to join an auto party yesterday to go to the State Fair at Columbus, but was unable to get away. I wanted to go so much for I know I would get to see you.
I have some special duties calling me this morning and cannot write a long letter, although I feel like writing to you indefinitely.
This letter will reach you Saturday morning and I trust it will find you the same sweet little glistening dewdrop. I will write again Sunday. I hope to hear from you tomorrow. Kindly remember me to the Todds and their visitors.
Lovingly, Fred.
Dearest, these letters are for you only. F.
[Columbus, Ohio, 11 AM, September 2, 1915.]
My dearest Fred:
It is now just eleven P.M., and you may surmise that this will be short. Dear heart, how I appreciate those precious letters written at midnight and after. What beautiful and strong evidence of love, and would that it might always live and abide forever.
Mr. Todd took us all out to the park tonight to see “Hiawatha.” I enjoyed it very much, and only wished you might have been with me. Every time I hear or see anything good, I think of you, and want you. I am just beginning to realize that you have gone again, and that it may be weeks before I see you again, indeed I am sure it will be. Dear, I appreciate and enjoyed your visit so much. The Sunday, our Sunday, the “Dinner,” the “Fair,” and the “Theatre.” I did not miss you so much Tuesday, for I was very busy, and had many duties to perform, but today has been like a void, or more properly speaking, void. Tuesday, you were on my mind largely, for I could not make it seem possible you had gone without my seeing you or hearing you on the telephone. I know there was no opportunity, but somehow there was that feeling that I must see or hear you. I am now trying to apply the law of adjustment. It does not fit well, but I suppose will have to be made to. Tomorrow the folks are talking about going to the fair and taking their dinner and staying for the fireworks. I refuse to go.
I have not heard from Fostoria, but Mr. Todd had a letter from Mr. Reed, a school member, who spoke well of me. Also I had a dear letter from my old supt. D.C. Jensen, which I will send you sometime. I am sending it to Supt. Solomon tonight.
I received your card this afternoon, but am looking for a letter tomorrow.
Lovingly yours, Roma.
My precious Roma:
This is Friday, my lucky day, for your good letter received at noon bears the strongest kind of evidence of the latter fact. However, I had a faint suspicion that I would hear from you today.
Tho your letter was a short one I was very glad to get it and I appreciated it knowing you had written it at a late hour, when, no doubt, you were tired and sleepy and if that be, as you say, strong and beautiful evidence of love, I, too join you in the hope and wish “that it might always live and abide forever.”
So I see you “took in” Hiawatha: well, I wanted to take you but our time was too short.
Pet, tomorrow is Saturday and how I wish it would be another such as last—you meeting me at the evening train, the club sandwiches and our most delightful evening—it all now seems like a dream, but one not to be forgotten. You never were so sweet. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to be with you now! And what a day was our Sunday—to share with you its peace, its joys, its satisfactions. For me to worship with you was an added blessing and to feast with you at eventide was a feast indeed. As to the Fair I’ll say little for I believe neither one of us especially enjoyed it. The melancholy day, to say nothing of the cold, had its effect.
Dearest Roma, I, too, am trying to conform to the law of adjustment and find that it requires a peculiar strength and I pray that it may be given both to you and to me.
Precious, you have touched my life in an inspiring and uplifting way and its effect has been an enlarged and richer life for me. My fondness for you has not fluctuated, but was of a marvelous strength from the very beginning. I somehow seem to feel that the many kind thoughts I have of you, must go out and reach you via some occult science. The several little journeys I have made to visit you, have been byways of blessedness, where I was privileged to successively bask in the luster of your smiles and hold communion with one of God’s noblest creatures; it was to be away from the disappointments and turmoil of life and find in your sweet presence a rest house of peace and love. It is said that back of the smile is a thought that counts and this thought dwells in the heart and saturates our being with its glory. Have you read Henry Drummond’s book “The Greatest Thing in the World” (=Love)? “Life without love is bread without salt, earth without verdure.”
This morning’s paper announces that Mr. Ransom and Miss Davidson would spend Sunday at Maple Grove—a summer resort near Chillicothe.
Dear heart, the hour is late and it will be necessary to close my message now. The approaching Sunday will bring to me countless sweet thoughts of you, dear Roma, and may this Sabbath day breathe upon you peace, joy and blessing from the Author of all Good.
Lovingly, Fred.
[Columbus, Ohio, 10 PM, September 6, 1915.]
My dearest Fred:
This is Sunday night and is past ten o’clock. I have intented [sic] writing a number of letters, but have been busy, and “put off.” However, I know too I shall attempt to write before retiring, one to my sweetheart, and one to my mother.
You said Friday was your lucky day. Well dear, I will have to lay claim to Saturday, for the morning mail brought me your sweet, tender letter, weighted with “fragrance from the blossoms of the heart.” It made me so very happy, for I expected to hear from you Thursday, then Friday sure, but no later. After reading your sweet message it gave me new life and vigor, and I went after that old green with a vengeance. I have it all finished now, so you can love me as much as you please, and won’t get a scratch. But I must go on about my lucky day. The afternoon mail brought me your second letter, and it was thrice welcome, because it was unexpected. About three o’clock I received a telegram from Fostoria, saying “You have just been elected here, letter follows. R.M. Solomon.” Do you see what that means? Just this, that your Roma Belle will have to work every minute this week to get ready. Tomorrow I sew, clean, etc. Tuesday shop. Have got to get a new suit and hat, wish you were here to go with me, would you like to? School begins a week from tomorrow. I don’t know what I’ll get, probably ninety, that is what he told me to ask for. Dear, if you were I, would you take a church position? There is one waiting for me, First Presbyterian. I don’t know what the salary will be, five dollars a Sunday I suppose. Goodness knows I should like the money, but it will tie me up so Sundays. You could never see me, not until next June.
Do you notice I am fond of “Swan Linen?” I like the paper but not the envelopes, but it was all I could get at our drug store.
Dear please explain: “This is Friday my lucky day, for your good letter received at noon bears the strongest kind of evidence of the latter fact. However, I had a faint suspicion that I would hear from you today.”
I don’t think I have read “The Greatest Thing in the World,” but have heard of it, and might insert that I know what it is. I heard a very strong sermon on that text in Salt Lake. Dear I also got your “superfluous.” Do you ever forget anything? I was not surprised to learn of Mr. Bower’s question, “Why don’t you marry that girl,” but I am curious to know your answer. You tell him of my “job.”
I appreciated very much the enclosures of Dr. Crane’s writings. I am not ready to return them yet, as I wish to digest them when I have more time. I will return all the clippings you have sent me and asked to have returned.
I am afraid the picture you have of me flatters me. If those little Ironton visitors could see the original, they would not be so complimentary I am afraid. It has rained all day today and all last night. Mr. Todd was going to take us all fishing Monday, but the rain has spoiled the fishing so we will not go. I am sorry you were not able to motor to Columbus to the Fair, for I should have been glad to see you.
I like Mrs. Todd’s nieces fine. We get along real well, and they seem to like me.
Dear heart, it is late, and I must get my rest for this must be a busy week. I have thot of you numberless times today, and compared it with the previous Sundays.
Lovingly, Roma.
Thanks for the gum. I chewed all day.
My Dearie: [“My” very faint.]
See how faint the My is? That shows I’m not sure. Sweetheart I am plum dippy tonight, so don’t think anything I say strange. My ears ring like bells, and I feel crazy all over. I go to do one think [sic], but do another. Shall I elucidate? Everyone around here has been having an awful cold. Whether it is contagion or chanceable whether I don’t know. I do know that I do not want it, so have been taking quinine all day. My throat was some sore yesterday, but this morning and today is very sore. That is the way Mrs. Todd’s started, but she has a “peach” now.
As I told you, they all went to the Fair today, but I did not care to go. I stayed at home and “washed.” They all tried to get me to go all day today, and let Lizza do what I wanted to do, but you know Miles Standish says, “If you want a thing well done, you must do it yourself. You must not leave it for others.” Mr. Todd did not know I was not going until noon at the table when they asked me if I would not change my mind. He expressed great surprise, and wanted me to wait for Lizza. Later he came in from the barn, I mean garage, and said he was disappointed because I was not going. I hustled the rest off to get ready and was doing the dishes, when he came out and said “It seems real selfish to go off and leave you here.” My I’m glad that man likes me, and I know he does or he would not do and say those little things because it is not like him.
The above was started Thursday night, and as I was anything but in the letter writing mood, I put it away and turned the lights low, and played the Victrola, and laid on the davenport and “dreamed the old dreams over.” I have just found it, so will enclose it as it will swell the letter, and I don’t know when you will hear again. The cold of which I speak is running its full course. R.B.M.
My dearest Roma;
This is Labor Day and I am wondering how the sweetest little girl I know is celebrating it. I have had you on my mind so much today, which, however, is not uncommon. And yesterday how I did want to spend Sunday with you—the memory of the Sunday previous is so sweet and tender and it all centers about you, my precious girl. I recall that you looked so pretty in our corner at dinner at the Chittenden Sunday evening and, oh, wasn’t the turkey dinner good? The beautiful pictures, of recent hanging, upon the walls of my memory, were placed there by you, and believe me when I say I find an exquisite pleasure in feasting my eyes upon them. I am in a mood for a “heart to heart” talk with you, but the miles that separate us today make it almost impossible. I have many tender thots of you but to reduce them to writing would be nothing short of profanation. Forgetting may be an art and it may be a serious fault: as an art I am trying to cultivate it as a fault to eliminate it, and I know the price I must pay to succeed. When the minister yesterday morning talked about Paul’s love letter—I was wishing that I had the ability to write a real and true love letter to you that would adequately express those tender, sweet and delicate thots, that lie deep and that tax even the genius of the poet or the composer to properly convey their precious meaning.
I saw your friend Mr. B. yesterday, he inquired about “the little girl.” Quite frequently someone will ask me how Miss M. is.
I am writing this letter to sort of satisfy a longing desire to be with you, but my, what a poor substitute for what I really want. The sunshine we are having today is more than welcome because Saturday and Sunday were days of many clouds and much rain.
I have just received a call on the phone calling me to the north end so I must close my message now.
I am expecting a good letter from you Tuesday and I feel sure I’ll not be disappointed.
With love unmeasured, Fred.
To my precious sweetheart:
Well, well, well—it has come to pass. I was “afraid” it would. Here’s to you, dearest Roma, success and happiness be yours. Pet, I hardly know how to begin this letter, for should I write even a dozen pages, it would be but a fragment of what I want to say, as the thoughts are forming so “thick and fast.” You know I was glad to find your letter waiting for me when I reached home this evening. Its contents furnished me food in abundance for much thought. I will say that I really expected your letter this morning and when it did not come, I said to myself it must arrive on the afternoon mail, and sure enough I was not disappointed.
I always get new inspiration and fresh impulse from reading your letters and I assure you this last one was no exception.
I want you to stop tantalizing me; to quote, “and I went after that old green with a vengeance, I have it all finished now, so you can love me as much as you please, and won’t get a scratch” the idea! And you a hundred miles away, how dare you speak so! When I read that I just wanted to go out and beg, borrow, rent or even steal a zeppelin and just fly to you via the most direct air line. Now, you be careful—I warn you—and don’t do it again.
I was wondering what kind of an expression came over your face when you received the Fostoria telegram. Do you think I ought to congratulate you? Dear Roma, instead of working “every minute” this week you should relax and rest and store up energy for your new work. I presume by this time you have purchased the new suit and hat—yes, I should liked to have helped you select them.
Speaking of salary, if Mr. R.M.S. told you to ask for ninety, it would be inadvisable to ask for more, however, you will not get more than you ask for, and then again, one hundred gives you a position and rounds out the salary so nicely and swells the bank account, it matters not whether it be deposited in the First or Central. As to the church engagement, it occurs to me that it would be well to get located and acquainted and thoroughly get your bearings before taking on too many responsibilities—my! that’s an awful big word to use in connection with a petite miss like you. While I know the money would come in handy, yet, for the above reasons I believe you would be justified in waiting at least awhile; no doubt you could have the place later on. Another thing to consider is your health—don’t overload; you can’t afford to get sick.
Dear heart, I am glad you are not going to be a book agent—I have heard that they sick dogs on ‘em, sometimes.
Yes, I like your “Swan Linen,” I like your envelopes and I like you too. You have asked me to explain “This is Friday,” etc. what I meant was that Friday is my lucky day and it happened that I received your letter on Friday which I said was further evidence that Friday continues to be my lucky day. I also said that I had a suspicion that I would hear from you that day. I hope I have made my meaning a little clearer.
You have asked me “do you ever forget anything?” Yes, dear girl, I am sorry to say I forget a world of good things I ought and would like to remember. I think I said something in my latter yesterday about the art and sin of forgetting.
Mr. B.’s semi sarcastic question remained unanswered. Don’t you think that was the manly thing to do? I know you have it completely conquered before leaving Columbus for your new home. I feel that I might help you get rid of it, if I were there. I wish I could see you before you go. Say, I wish I could have been there Thursday evening when you turned the lights low and played the Victrola and rested on the divan and “dreamed the old dreams over”—I am dreaming them now and “’tis a luxury diving.”
Why shouldn’t Mr. Todd like you? How can he help it? He’s not the first or the only man that likes you. I know others—one especially. Can you follow that?
Dear Roma, do you want some money to use in getting yourself ready for your new work—if so, advise me at once. I’ll gladly and cheerfully accommodate you.
The two clippings from today’s paper need not be returned. Your faint “My” in the salutation of your short letter already referred to has no serious significance. I don’t believe in signs. Who was it that said “If you would have a thing done go, if not send.”? Now, precious, it is time to close this message for the hour is getting late and I have an important letter yet to write to my people in Detroit. I am just wondering if you are as smart as you were the last time I saw you—one week ago last night.
I have no gram [telegram?] that I can send to-night but will have some the next time—note the brand.
I do not know the author but will use these lines for my closing:
“As earth pours freely to the sea
Her thousand streams of wealth untold
Glad that is very sands are gold.
So flows my silent life to thee”
Lovingly, Fred.
[Fostoria, Ohio, 1 PM, September 13, 1915.]
Precious Fred:
I had just been in my office a few minutes when your telegram came. I stayed a few minutes but could not stand it, so came home. The students are all anxious to know what their new teacher “looks like,” and it hardly seems fair to have to see her in tears for the first time. Dear, for the first time in my life my heart is really broken, for your telegram proves insincerity and falseness, and I could stand anything on earth but that from you. Your honor has been something that to me was beyond question, and I would have staked my life as cheerfully and confidently to defend it as I would ten cents.
The love and all dear that I have given you, has been the dearest, sweetest, purest, that any woman ever gave a man. I gave you the very best I had. I still love you, that is why the pain is so intense.
Dear, no matter what happens I shall never turn my finger over to make you marry me. You may keep this to prove your point, but you will never need it.
No amount of writing will ever be satisfactory and then one does not feel safe. You have been so kind, good and generous with me, with everything you have had, especially your money and time. I never intended to ask you to come and see me here, but dear you must come Friday and spend Saturday and Sunday. It may be the last, and it may not. I am not thinking of that so much as that I must see you, and dear time is precious. You can come to Columbus on the same evening train and take some other line to Findley and take the traction over from there. Precious write and tell me you will come. I have a great deal of endurance, but dear if you should leave me with that telegram I never could stand it. If I were old here it would not be so bad, eyes would not be so curious, and nothing tells on me like worry and sorrow.
You will never know dear heart, how I hated to tell you this and to add this extra burden and worry to you, but what was I to do? Dear, try to think logically and clearly but do not worry or be unhappy until you see me.
Your special was forwarded me from Columbus, also the beautiful card. The only decorations in my room are the beautiful helpful clippings and cards you have sent. Your letter was so tender and lovely and I am almost happy because it was from my old dear sweet Fred, but it was written before he received my special and I am wondering if he could change so suddenly.
Dear I did receive several letters from you last week, and they were duly appreciated. I only paused long enough in my work to read, them and then reread them. I thot you would appreciate how busy I was and excuse me. I am not expecting any mail from you until you answer this, and it seems so long to wait.
Lovingly, Roma. 319 N. Union St.
QBA 