22 Cliff St, NY
June 17, 1897
From: William A Gray
To: Ruth Barrell
With not very much to do, naturally my mind reverts to thoughts of you and the
happy, though short interval spent with you last night.
Last night was a record breaker, Ruth. Do you know, I was home and just about
ready to go to bed when the Cuckoo struck for half past ten.
The six twenty train was my getting up signal this morning, it made such a lot of
noise puffing and snorting at the station. While on my way to the 7:07, looking at the
ground and thinking of what you might be doing at the same time, I came upon the four
leaf clover which I enclose. Without thinking to wish, I plucked it, but I have tried to make
amends for my forgetfulness by kissing it three or four times when I thought of sending it to
You might ease your cousin’s mind if he wonders whether if I still have his letter in
my pocket. The one addressed to Newark, I dropped in a box at that station, but the
destination being Philadelphia and not passing thru that town, I dropped it in the Post
Office at New York at 8:28 A.M.
I hope Ethel’s headache is gone. Headaches are mean things to have, it makes me
nervous to think of the time when they were chronic with me.
Tell Ethel I will get her shoes either today or tomorrow and bring them over with me
Tell Helen I am coming over to play “hide-and-seek” with her Saturday, and for her,
in the mean time, to find good places to hide.
Now Ruth, you great noble girl, take good care of your own precious self. Don’t work
too hard, so you won’t be tired and we can have lots of fun on Saturday afternoon. If
everything goes as I expect, it will only be fifty-two hours until I am with you again, and
deducting sixteen hours in which to sleep, leaves only thirty-six real long hours of
I read your last letter this morning, coming down in the train, and am now thinking
what you asked about our ever getting old and dignified. We may grow old in years, Ruth,
and we shall some day be old in looks, too; but there is no reason why we should ever be
a day older in disposition than we now are. I want that we always be the same devoted,
silly – if you will – pair that we are now. I know you do too, without asking you.
Perhaps, Ruth, I shouldn’t be thinking of all these things now, in business hours, but
while there is nothing to else to do, I guess there is no harm done.
I wish you, Dear, the best of health and happiness for now and always and it gives
me great pleasure to be permitted to work all my life for the securing of those things for
Goodbye until Saturday.
Wm A Gray