Comment
Apologies for a long gap in posting these next letters in which Roma reassures Fred that her mother’s negative and depressive outlook is not inherited or likely to be passed on. Roma makes mention of the Victor “Talking Machine,” new at the time, and Fred references the great war (not yet in capitals) which like the heat wave they are experiencing has no end in sight. Otherwise, their letters revolve around their own lives. The letters are so intimate and affectionate (they “yearn,” “ache,” “fondle,” “embrace,” “cuddle,” “kiss,” “love,” “stroke,” “soothe,” and “caress”), yet there has not yet been a marriage proposal. Fred references his pride as the reason for not going ahead with a marriage. He is concerned about being able to support a wife and family for the long run. It is not clear when or how this might change. Meanwhile, Roma is working very hard; her work is taking up many hours and it is clear that she is conscientious about keeping up with it all―extensive lesson plans, meetings, and worries that keep her up at night. At one point she helps a friend with a performance of church music and is glad the she did not accept the church job that had been offered because the church politics are too distasteful. Fred is proud of her high standards and hard work. She is relieved that he does not drink alcohol and paints him as a saint to “only love those things that are pure, beautiful and holy.” It is still not clear exactly what his work is: “The Chemical Co received seven horses, one hog and one seven foot snake weighing thirty one pounds—all to-day.”
In the early part of their courtship, Roma asked for a loan and Fred was hesitant to grant it and left her in limbo about his answer. Here he has loaned her money which she is paying back in installments and he says he’d be fine if she never paid it back.
[Fostoria, Ohio, 8 A/PM (?), October 7, 1915. Special Delivery.]
Dearest sweetheart:
How quickly time flies! This week is half gone, and it does not seem possible. Your splendid Sunday letter received and more than enjoyed. Dear I guess I did not make mention of the crate of peaches received last Thursday evening, just think nearly a week. No wonder you feel it was not appreciated. Well dear, I have not written you but once since, as I have been so busy. Sunday night when I wrote I neglected to speak of it. However, if you only knew the genuine merriment it caused at the house, you would know it was appreciated. Mrs. Near told me you were teaching me to be selfish, when you only send just enough for me. I opened the crate, then nailed it up again and took it home. Every one thot it very clever. It is salted away in my cedar chest “where moth nor rust doth not corrupt.” Mama and I ate it (the peach). It was very good and in fine condition.
Dearest, I am so sorry you are not feeling well. I wish we might spend Saturday evening all alone, but of course that will be impossible. I need another heart to heart talk, and I believe it would do you good. There is so much I should like to talk about, but sweetheart, please rest you precious mind in regard to mama and my inherited chances for pessimism. Mama does not inherit it. It has been acquired wholly, because of her isolation, sensitive disposition and religious views. The dear woman thinks she has the right idea of life, or after life, so we try to excuse her. Indeed, I think my happy disposition and antithesis for gloom and sadness may be attributed to the fact I have only one ambition, and that is to get as far as possible from the pessimistic ideals my mother holds. Dear, I have endured times without number the sting of sorrow, disappointment and adversity. I also know if you have someone to whom you can go and who can sympathize. I hardly know as there is such a thing as sorrow. It is to feel that no one loves or understands that makes the cross heavy.
I am glad you “turned down” the offer of conducting the “Current Event” class. I know of no one more capable, yet it would mean so much extra work, and I believe you have enough at present.
The first number of our lecture course opens this evening. I wish we were going together. Elsie Baker sings. She is one of the artists for the Victor “Talking Machine.”
I am feeling so much better lately dear, I knew you would be glad to hear it, but it distresses me to hear of your indisposition, and truly hope it is nothing serious.
I agree with you in regard to the clipping sent in today’s paper, and consider it very good.
Dear, I don’t know whether it is “our” age, our common sense, or experience, but I don’t believe we would ever suffer from the effects of the “idealistic” stage. I do feel sorry for girls who expect after marriage to be just the same, but “believe me” a woman has a right to expect attention and “manifest” love after as well as before.
I heard from Mr. B. Monday but not since. He said he was at the mercy at the “Factory,” and might not be able to get a car. My dear we will be disappointed. But if we do not come this week maybe we will the next. You may have a date for Friday night as we will not get thru until Sat. Mr. B. said we should leave Columbus about seven Sat. morning.
With much love, Roma
[Fostoria, Ohio, 5 PM, October 9, 1915. Special Delivery.]
[Note on the envelope:] Thanks for the clippings, I should like to have kept them.
Sat. 4 P.M.
My dearest Fred:
This will have to be a short letter because it is all the paper I have, but it will be brimming over with love, so will be as good as a fat one. I sent you that wire instead of Mr. B. because I thot he might be on his way to Toledo, and we were so anxious to know that night, as two of the girls go home and one of their parents had postponed an automobile trip so Clara could go with us. We were hoping we would know in time so we could wire her people, so they could go this week instead of next, but the message came too late. That will mean that Clara can’t go next Friday if we go, and I like her the best of the girls. Otherwise, it is a good thing we did not go, as Thursday I had to get a cold, and today I have been really ill. I guess I have it pretty well in hand, but I have taken so much quinine that my head is swelled, and rings like the doorbell.
I will be very busy this week, as a week from Thursday I have to have teachers’ meeting again and in the meantime make out plans for six weeks.
Yesterday was pay day as you may surmise by the enclosed. Do you mind dear getting it in installments? You see the first two months I will not be very “flushed.” I want to put a furnace in at home as we need one. Next month I can send you the balance “(mebbe).” You’re a dear old sweetheart and I enjoy spending your money more than I can say. See if you “enjoy” it as well?
Lover that apple was the very best I have ever tasted. It was “sweet” of you to send it. Sometimes I want you so badly dear, especially at night. You are so dear and sweet to me, and I love you with all my heart.
With sincere love, Roma.
[postmarked October 9, 1915, mailed to Fostoria]
[sticker affixed to envelope: AN INFALLIBLE TEST If you wish to know if you are a Christian, ask yourself these questions: Am I a comfortable person to live with? Am I pleasant to have about?]
“My dear little bunch of sweetness:”
“There’s a reason” why I place the salutation in quotations. Dear, I am so full of you tonight, that I feel that if I wrote all night, I could not say all I would like. You have been most generous this week, beginning last Sunday with that special humdinger, I have heard from you seven times, including the return of the beads and the arrival of the pillow. I gave the beads immediate attention and the new strand should reach you not later than Monday. Sweetheart, many people believe that amber beads ward off certain throat ailments, of course, that may be a pure superstition; however, I sent them only as another little love token and I am glad to have you say you like them.
Well, well, the pillow is here and I hardly know what to say; to tell you, I am pleased, doesn’t say enough. How it suggests to me our tramp up and down High St. last Fall and the further tramping in Toledo looking for the right shade of silk. Dear, that pillow seems to express to me in a beautiful way the soft, sweet, pure love of a girl—a woman if you please—that I love so fondly, so proudly, so passionately, so sincerely—the girl who has sent visions of exquisite delight into my life—the girl who has sent gleaming rays of hope to illumine my path—the girl whose heart and soul seemingly have been fused with my heart and soul in the crucible of love. Roma dear, all that I have said and done—every thot, every act, every deed—the many kindnesses you have shown me, methinks, bear the smile of Heaven.
Dear, I had intended to answer in full your special of last Sunday—but I deem it of such importance that I hope to answer you in person at our approaching reunion, feeling that we will both be better satisfied.
Sweetheart, at the church service this morning, five babies were baptized; the parents presenting them at the altar. It was quite impressive. I just thot of you. You have said you wanted to be a mother. In your letter written me last Sunday, you said your minister preached something about “babies” and you just “dreamed the old dream over.” the baby makes a “mere” woman a divine mother. Dear, the letter you sent me containing the foregoing was unusually sweet and dear. It touched me to the very depths and my heart and soul were stirred more than I can tell. Dear, I’ll confess to you that your last three letters completely overwhelmed me. You struck the harp of love so strong that its melody has sustained me more than food or drink. My constant theme is Roma and her love. Roma, you cannot know how intense is my love for you. Your kind reference of Chancellor Bradford and his grand address suggesting me is altogether too flattering. I thank you for the implied compliment—I wish I were fully deserving. Yes, you are the “little nothing” I love and I wish I could emphasize the fact right now. Here I am verily pining for you and you 188 miles away. Your “weakness”, dear, gives me inspiration and strength. I agree with the Bible teaching that neither man nor woman is complete alone. I have often felt that you would be my complement. Dear, I know you will think I’m handsome now—my picture proves it.
Dear, I want you to remember and tell me all about the all night dream of me. Pet, you are in my thots so much, yet, I have never been able—no, I have never had the joy that a dream of you, I am sure, would bring.
Dear, I am hoping for a happy reunion for this week-end. I cannot write definitely tonight but will let you know in ample time. Would you rather meet in Columbus than elsewhere? How would you like to visit in Dayton? We could go to Dayton via Columbus next Friday evening. Dear, it is not so easy to get away as it was during the fall season, but I think I can manage to make this trip.
Dear, when will I see all those pretty new clothes you have? You certainly are piling up more inducements so that some man will have to marry you. Dear, tell me who is the man. May I see the hand made things you enumerate? I surely want to, but dear, I just want to see you. Not since New Year’s Day have I seen my love. Pet, that is the longest vacation we have had. Roma, I wish you would explain more fully the marks on the card showing the interior of the church. You show two X’s and have “us” written between. I’ll enclose the card for more specific information for I think it is exceedingly interesting. Dear, tonight communion service was held at the church, but, instead of going, I am home writing you. I wish I could be with you tonight—I’ll bet “Jimmie” is the lucky boy.
Dear, did the little boy get his Jumbo candy stick? Roma, another question, when in Toledo didn’t we buy a collar box, for traveling use? I think it was made of linen and was to be worked with silk.
Sweetheart, I hope you won’t find it necessary to read this message “steen” times in order to get its import. Believe me, I surely read and reread yours.
Love, I am hungering and thirsting after you tonight and want you to fondle, embrace, kiss and love. I would like to hold you and whisper love’s story again and again. I would like to feel the thrill of love’s passion, as our souls would commune one with the other. My love for you is strong and complete. I have freely given you all I have. None has been held back. You alone have received it. I feel there is none left for another. Your response has been the sweetest and most precious thing I know. I feel glad tonight in the radiance of your love.
Roma dear, I am glad to say that I am feeling some better the past two or three days. Mr. B. told me of his canceled engagement for this weekend.
Sweetheart, in closing I want to wish you a happy week. As usual you will be large in my thots in these coming days and the hopeful expectation of seeing you so soon will be my inspiration and ambition will be whetted anew for greater effort.
God bless you, Roma dear.
With constant love, Fred.
P.S. Don’t forget to enlighten me on the card. F.
[October 10, 19__ from Portsmouth, to Fostoria]
My dearest Roma;
Well, sweetest Roma, what has happened, I endured yesterday without hearing from you, thinking sure that to-day Friday, my lucky day, would bring me some precious message, but my fond hopes were rudely shattered when on the last mail delivery this afternoon nothing from you came. You cannot know how utterly miserable I feel for the disappointment is much keener than you can imagine. Dear heart, I was tempted to call you on the phone this evening but that is not satisfactory. You have heard from me several times this week and I think I have had just one message from you, and how many times do you think I have read it—I’ll tell you when I see you. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to spend this evening with you and “dream the old dream over is a luxury divine.” Sweetheart, since you have come into my life it seems so different. You have given me the most blissful joy I have yet experienced and I am almost convinced that you possess the power to make me most miserable and wretched. In fact, I am getting a taste of it right now. Have I done anything to deserve it. I am sure I can’t answer.
What precedes was written as the text shows late yesterday afternoon. This is Saturday morning and having just finished my breakfast, thot I would complete my message to you. Dear heart, I hardly know what to say. The pining and longing for you is so intense that it really aches and pains. Your picture, with its gracious smile, looks down upon me from a place near my desk; and when I look at that picture I behold the smiling features of the sweetest girl I know. The passing days, weeks and months only seem to ripen my fondness for you into an affection and love that shall find flower and fruition in—? I wish I could intelligently complete that sentence. Verily, the way of true love does not run smoothly. Dear Roma, I am again compelled to leave this letter, will resume writing later in the day. The Chemical Co received seven horses, one hog and one seven foot snake weighing thirty one pounds—all to-day and because of the hot weather it may mean work Sunday.
Well, I’m back on the job once more, since penning the above, Uncle Sam’s faithful messenger brought me your letter written apparently Thursday. I see Mr. Lazarus “knows” you and his offer is kind and generous. I am looking forward with sweet anticipation to your very “special” letter, promised me for Sunday. If the weather were more tolerable I’d be tempted to run up and see you Sunday, however, it will be necessary to give the Chemical some attention to-morrow. By the way we are having terrific heat and the end, like that of the great war is not in sight.
President William Oxley Thompson, of Ohio State, preaches at Second Church to-morrow. I have considered him the readiest talker in the state of Ohio—I have never heard him preach. I wish you could be here and go with me to hear him. I have no special news to write about to-night, altho, I feel that if I use you as my theme, I could write a whole chapter of interesting reading. Dearest Roma, somewhere I recently read, “Life without love is bread without salt, earth without verdure”—I believe that to be true.
Precious, I am feeling much better since I received your letter to-day and in anticipation of your special tomorrow Sunday, “I shall wear the look of the man who has always lived in the sunniest places of human happiness.” I have reason to believe that this will be the last message I send you to Columbus before taking up your new work with I trust you will find congenial, pleasant and also profitable and I want it to bear to you my love, my kindness and my tenderness for I know it will be measured into me again. This message will be; sent “special” and should reach you soon after the rising of tomorrow’s sun and I sincerely hope it may be to you, what the writer intended, a source of happiness and joy; and may that same sun magnify your joy and happiness and warm your heart and lighten your path.
I shall think of you often tomorrow, for it is Sunday, and “twill bring to my mind sweet memories of the happy Sundays we have spent together.
Yours devotedly, Fred.
[Fostoria, October 14, 1915, 4 pm]
Dearest, I know I have been awfully neglectful, but I have just been so near dead nights I could not sit up and hold a pen, let alone writing a letter, even tho it be to the dearest, sweetest, and most kind man in the world. I have thot of you so many times, and if all those kind and loving thots could have taken flight you would be satisfied that it was not neglect. Nights when I am so tired and nervous how I would love to cuddle and snuggle up to a someone and be soothed to sleep, and I believe that is a “man’s job.”
I have to get my plans out for six weeks by next Thursday and have a teachers’ meeting, that is why I am so rushed. I have not heard from Mr. B. this week so I guess we will not go this Friday. A week from Friday will be fine. Two weeks from Friday we have our teachers meeting in Toledo.
It has rained here all day yesterday and today, so I don’t suppose it would be good motoring.
I heard today the high school boys were “crazy” about the music teacher. It has not been expressed.
I must close now and run for the car. I have to go to Columbus school this P.M.
Much love and much haste, Roma. Thurs. 12:30
[Fostoria, October 17, 1915, 11 PM]
319 N. Union, Fostoria, Ohio
Let me know when you get this.
11:10
My precious one:
There are about fifteen minutes before breakfast, and I am going to start my letter to you, so you will be sure to get it Monday morning 6:30 P.M.
Dearest, at this juncture the girls came down stairs and we had breakfast, then Miss Bridges, who teaches voice here from the Heidelberg U. and has charge of the music in the Presbyterian Church, and I went in and played and sang until church time. They had a very difficult anthem, and she wanted me to help out so I did. Dear, but I am glad I did not take that job, they just fight and quarrel all the time. Will tell you all about it when I see you. The sermon was very good and I just sat there and thot of you all the time. Dearest Fred, I am so proud of you and love you so dearly. You spoke of your imagination working overtime, and wondered if my old Fostoria “beau” was taking so much of my dear time. Dear, you have spoiled me, I can’t find anyone interesting to do with, they just bore me, and Clara asked me if I did not think it was because I was so fond of you, and because you were so much older and more sensible that I did not care for the young fellows. I never knew why myself before, but that sounds as though it might be the reason. The sermon was very good. The use of liquor was mentioned, and I just swelled up when I thot of how free you were from the use of it, and just how you only love those things that are pure, beautiful and holy. Sometimes dear, I wonder if you really love me. Your letters are beautiful, your devotion as a lover is supreme, but it seems to me your pride is greater than your love, or you would not allow anything to stand in our way. My work is very hard and responsible. Last week and this week I have been working on my plans. I have to prepare for 48 teachers lessons for six weeks in advance. That is why you have not heard from me. Then too, this last week I was not well, I was so nervous, it just seemed as that I would fly. I could not sleep or lie still. My work was on my mind and then Friday was my “company’s” day. Dear, how I wished you were my husband, and could stroke and sooth my whole body. I could almost go to sleep just thinking about it. Your touch is so firm, so loving, and so magnetic. I am sure I could relax under that when nothing else would do. Saturday I had a date with the dentist, but felt so badly I could not keep it. Thank goodness that siege is over, and I am feeling fine today, especially tonight. What a night for loving on Todd’s “morning” porch. Dear, do you think it funny to talk this way to you? It just seems so natural and it makes me so proud and happy to know, that you could take my body, and caress and sooth from my head to my feet, and when that beautiful quiet sleep would come you could walk away with a pure, noble, spirit, and a heart full of genuine love. Sometimes, dear it just seems as though I can’t live without you. It’s nights I miss you so especially when it is cold. Mrs. Todd in her last letter said she hoped the time would soon come when you could not get along without me, but I am afraid that will never be. Mr. B. has been very regular with his writing lately and says it is getting where he simply can’t stand it, that he must see me. He said it looked as though he would not be able to get a car for next month. Now dear heart, I want you to do some “thinking.” Clara Mertz is a grand girl and we are “palls.” Now would it be “nice” to drive with Mr. B. just Clara and I from Fostoria to Columbus the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving then Mr. W. could? meet us and Thanksgiving Day drive to Portsmouth, and Clara and I could? stay until Saturday or Sunday if we were sufficiently urged? I know we would have the time of our lives but would that seem too much like “chasing” after the men. If we do it Thanksgiving week just Clara and I will come, but if we come some Friday night all four of us will come. Now tell me which you would rather have us do? Miss Bridges is a grand girl young and jolly. She has a Chicago man, and has written for him to come up Thanksgiving and wants me to have you. We will meet you in Columbus and do the town, then come up here and stay over Sunday. We can do as we “darn” please. Now sweetheart tell me which Thanksgiving scheme you like best, or wasn’t you planning on seeing me Thanksgiving? You old darling I want to see you. Now you must let me know at once as I will have to let Mr. B. know, also Miss Bridges next Friday night.
Dear, I received your card Saturday morning telling me about the “smells” and I thot sure it was flowers, and I told everybody I was going to have a bouquet for Sunday then it was that lovely bottle of perfume. I like it so much better because it will last longer, but dear, it makes me lonesome, because every time I smell it I see your snow white handkerchief and you. However, some memories that make us sad also make us happy, and this happens to be one. Please accept my sincere thanks. I love the smell as you know, and I love it coming from you. Mrs. Near told the girls you sent me something everyday, and she was about right. I don’t believe any girl ever had a more devoted lover.
Yes dear, I got your special a week ago tonight. If I did not mention it, it was an oversight, for it surely was most appreciated. I was wanting you so much about that time, five o’clock when it came. However, I like them awfully well on Saturday afternoon. That is when I got your last one, and darling that was a grand letter. If my love is what you need to buoy you up you surely should be buoyed way up, for no girl could love a man so wholly and completely as I love you. Haven’t I shown it dear by giving you of my very self?
Schuman-Heink is to be in Toledo Tuesday night and the girls are going to do my copy work for me so I can go. Aren’t they dear? We have a special car.
I like your pictures and I needed the blotters. Dear was your father a shoe man? One of the [?] say “Chas. Winter’s Son?” The papers I have not received yet. I always like to get your papers and notice the markings.
Now dearest, this is a long letter, and must last until Saturday or Sunday. I may get time to write Friday afternoon.
I came to my room to write so as to be alone, and as I have no table, I had to write this on the bed, which was not most comfortable. Hope you will not have much trouble reading it. My bestest love to you, Roma.
To my most precious jewel:
If ever a heart was torn with anxiety it has been mine for several days past; somehow I felt that I should hear from you Saturday, but nothing came; my hopes were high for a message Sunday to bless and glorify my day, but again was disappointment my portion; Monday came and went, bringing no tidings and you may believe me my anguish became positively unspeakable. My thinking apparatus or imagination or whatever you may choose to call it again began to work overtime—had I said or written something that gave offense—had I left something undone—had I done something to cause pain—had something happened for which I deserved to be rebuked—well, it would simply take pages to record the countless queries that arose in my mind. Fear, doubt, and anxiety seemed to form a trinity, of mighty strength, to harass and terrorize my heart and soul, both by day and by night. Peace and joy were rapidly waning.
But, sweetheart dear, this Tuesday morning at 11:10 (to be exact as per your request) the encircling gloom passed away like a morning cloud when your sweet scented letter, freighted with love reached me. The eagerness with which I received it was plainly noticeable to the postman. It so happened that I came home today one hour ahead of schedule, usually I am not home when the postman makes his deliveries. To use a coarse expression I just “hogged” that letter down; it came as a refreshing [?] to a drooping plant, it came as a cup of cold water to the lips of a famishing mortal, it came as a messenger to lighten sorrow and to wipe away a tear. Things took on a more roseate hue and my vision happily enlarged. The privilege and opportunity of writing you tonight provide me a pleasure indeed. When I meditate upon you as my sweetheart, my love, my jewel and my hope, believe me, my joy reaches heighths [sic] supreme and realms of exquisite ecstasy. You cannot know what a part you are playing in my life, yet scarcely six months have passed since we first met and how well I remember our first meeting and the meetings that followed. I, too, am glad that you didn’t accept the position in the church choir. I was just wondering what there was in that particular sermon, to which you referred, that caused or led you to think of me. Pet, you astonish me by saying, you sometimes wonder if I love you. You speak most flatteringly my letters and devotion, yet, to you it seems that my pride is greater than my love. Yes, dearest Roma, I have pride plus. If I were to make an inventory I would not know whether to classify my pride as an asset or liability, however paradoxical it may seem, it is both and no mortal, with normal development is without it. Sweetheart if I had you here on this ideal October moonlight night I could and I would convince you of the intensity and sincerity of my love for you. If I could have had my way you wouldn’t be in Fostoria worrying with all those teachers and that army of pupils. If I could have had my way Portsmouth’s population would have been increased by one. If I could have had my way your name would have been changed. That any man could love a woman more than I love you is absolutely beyond my comprehension. As matters stand I am real glad you obtained the Fostoria appointment. In a way it was a high compliment to you. The sentences immediately preceding this should not be hard to follow. I am sure you’ll get my point or rather my meaning. Your active mind will grasp it at a glance, tho you may accuse me of circumlocution. It is this pride that makes me jealous of your welfare. It is this pride that makes me careful and teaches me caution and foresight. I have had the care of the family exchequer for several years and I understand something about the difficulty of keeping “income” ahead of “outgo.” I have been a painful observer of economic pressure. The “bread and butter” question is too serious to be trifled with and deserves and demands our most careful attention and direction. I know that it is the rock upon which the happiness of so many homes has been dashed to pieces. I have been an unwilling witness to more than a little of it. People bound to me by the ties of consanguinity have not been immune from it. Prudence demands that I consider well before asking anyone to join me in a matter of such serious and sacred import. I am enclosing with this letter an article, clipped from a prominent magazine, that is of unusual merit—“Keeping on the safe side of the altar.” I am sure it will meet your approbation and endorsement as it has mine. But, pet, we are again touching upon or nearing the stern realities of life and that has always been hard for me to do with you—I mean to discuss with you. Your petiteness, your culture, even your very nature seem to keep you aloof from all that. Yet life would be unlivable without a due proportion of so called drudgery which makes us appreciate the more ideal relations.
Sweetheart, I note what you quoted from Mrs. Todd’s letter and let me tell you that I felt last week that the time had come when I could not get along without you. I actually suffered and ached for your close companionship. I am just now thinking of that “morning” porch. Around it hover experiences and memories most dear. I had supposed Mrs. Todd had forgotten me by this time—I believe I recall that Todds’ was to be our meeting place.
Tell me, dear, is Clara Wertz (pardon the familiarity) the brunette that sat at my left at the table at Mrs. Near’s?
I can’t understand why you didn’t get my last special earlier; I posted it here so that by making the usual connections it should have reached Fostoria on the 11:31 noon train Sunday and within an hour been in your hand.
Let me say to you, dearest Roma, that your last letter to me was the best one you have sent; however, it may be that because I had not heard from you for so long that I was sort of starved out, “but be that as it may” take it from me, it was a letter on which I gave you a grade of 99+ and you must know that is a high mark. The sweetness and delicacy of its odor was surpassed, exceeded and outclassed by the precious and loving tenor of its text.
Dearest, you say I have spoiled you and that you can find no one that is interesting—well, let me say to you, and I speak seriously too, that you have almost ruined me: While I have many girl friends, that I appreciate and esteem, you alone, have all my love and it naturally follows that my thoughts and desires gravitate toward you. You spoke of not allowing “anything to stand in our way. I am making Herculean efforts to bring to a happy consummation the fondest desire of my heart. I am not worried about the so called hereafter—but the now. I am trying to lay a foundation that is enduring and that will stand the acid test of time. My conservative temperament will not permit me to build otherwise. You write that your work is hard and responsible. I am glad it is to, because it will bring out and develop the best that is in you, however, the manner and attitude with which you approach your work will surely tell in the results obtained. I would suggest that calmness characterize your efforts that you may conserve your nerve energy and only draw on your reserve in emergencies One’s work should give him or her the greatest pleasure. Last week was such an unsatisfactory one for me, so I was really glad when it was gone—I am glad to say matters are a bit smoother this week. Your good letter helped a whole lot.
Dear heart, oftimes I feel that the relations of lover and sweetheart are more beautiful, tender and sympathetic then that of husband and wife. Such thoughts, of course, lead us into the realism of that most interesting science called psychology and it would require a Munsterberg to enlighten and explain.
Roma dear, I want you to continue to write in the way that seems so natural to you—for I assure you it doesn’t sound “funny” to me, as you imagined it might. Yes, if I only had you here now—again would I hold you, caress you, pet you, hug you, and cover you with kisses and play upon the heart strings of love the sweetest melodies of the soul. You awaken in me purposes that are lofty, you energize powers that otherwise might lie dormant, you encourage tendencies for nobler achievement, you call forth those qualities that make for excellence and your radiating presence seems to lend a halo to everything animate or inanimate that you touch.
Dear, how reassuring are your words contained in the paragraph, “for no girl could love a man so wholly and completely as I love you.” How can words express more? Let me answer without reservation of any kind, that I reciprocate that sentiment in “toto.”
I am pleased to hear that you will have the rare privilege of hearing Schuman-Heink sing in Toledo—I wish I could join you. You asked about my father—he and I were in the shoe business at the number shown on the blotter. We did a successful business. I stepped out of the store some time ago, of my own volition. My father passed away very suddenly in April 1904. The store property belongs to my mother and is one of the best locations in the city. You may recall that it is located opposite the post office. My younger brother is now operating the business.
Sweetheart, I want you to tell Mrs. Near to place a stand or table in your room so you can continue to write long letters and write them often to me. Writing on the bed, I know, must be very uncomfortable.
The returned clipping came to me at an opportune time—thank you. Do you remember the crippled man we saw at the State Fair? I learned a good lesson there.
As to the Thanksgiving trip I cannot at this early date give a definite decision, however, I like both plans and you may know I am anxious to see you. Should a positive answer or decision be required at this time you mention, just go ahead and make your plans and I’ll do my best to adapt and adjust myself and affairs to the situation. So you see my answer need cause no delay. Pet, I want to say a word about money matters, although I do it very reluctantly; don’t you worry about paying back that money. Don’t embarrass yourself by trying to liquidate all at one time. Take your time. Pay all the other first. Get out of debt and when things loosen up and you feel flush and your bank balance gets heavy—then it will be time enough for this. You see it’s like this, your credit is good with me if you never pay it and I stand ready to assist you when and however I can.
Well, sweetness do you realize that this letter has reached its tenth page and unless I soon close Mrs. Near will have to come across with some more pennies.
I shall entrust this message of love—for that is what I want it to be, to the care of our efficient servant Uncle Sam and I am sure it will be delivered, to the sweetest girl I know, in due time.
Your devoted lover, Fred.
QBA 