Jan 13, 1898
From: William A Gray
To: Ruth Barrell
My Dearest Ruthy:
Perhaps you wrote me today; perhaps you didn’t, expecting I might go to your home
this evening. Well, Ruth, if you wrote “nobody called for the evening mail,” so I am without
your letter, consequently very lonesome and must have in this way a little talk with my
love, before going to bed.
I would very much like to have spent the evening with you, but a number of things
seemed to prevent, Mama caught some fresh cold which bothered her very much last night
and I had to get something for it, which had to be brought home tonight. But for this Ruth, I
surely would have been with you tonight Love, and I know you know how great is the
sacrifice I make. Will now have to turn my eyes to Saturday as the next happy occasion of
our meeting. Another week gone; another week toward the future which promises so much
for us. Saturdays have gotten to be such happy days for me. They furnish me the good
times, that will “some sweet Day,” come daily, and for all these delightsome times I have
but you Ruth, to thank and love and love and love.
So little happens, Dear, in my narrow sphere, that I have really nothing to write
about. Am kept busy all day long and have no time for play or mischief and removing the
possibility of these diversions, you know makes life rather monotonous for me; that is why I
am so lonesome for the company of my playful, laughing, loving Ruthy. My companion,
playmate, and loved one. How silly I am.
I won’t try to write you a long letter, Ruth, for I didn’t get very much sleep last night,
and must now make up for it.
The fact that our heater refused to burn, for the reason of the pipe being so clogged
with soot as to prevent all draft, is due Mamma’s cold and my loss of sleep last night, To
have a warm house today I got up about 3 A M to take the pipe down and clean it out. In
doing this I found one of the elbows was rotten and broke in half in attempting to take it
out, so I had to give up. I went back to bed and slept until 6:20.
We are very comfortable now. David having succeeded in getting a man to come
and fix the old thing up.
Will you meet me, Dearest, Saturday afternoon, if the weather permits?
I will be glad to have you do so and will try and repay you some day.
I will be the most impatient mortal in the world when I board that 3:20 train Saturday.
You wondered Saturday last how I knew you were yourself, and Jack was Jack and Co but
truly I could instantly find you and Jack among a thousand vehicles, were you among
The wind whistles,
May it get through by Saturday.
I hope you are very well, not a vestige of that old cold remaining, and that all other
members of your family are likewise.
Be good, a kiss, good night
And very much love from your silly