Louisa Wylie Boisen to Hermann B. Boisen, 31 May 1875

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Louisa W. Boisen, Bloomington, Indiana to Hermann Boisen, Terre Haute (no envelope)

Bloomington, May 31, 1875 [Monday]

My dear Hermann,

            I received your very welcome letter today, only more welcome because unexpected. I thought I would have to wait until Tuesday on account of the new arrangement about the mails. I sent you a postal card today and one on Saturday. I have also written four pages, but I won’t send them as they can be considerably condemned. Ma, Pa, Annie and the boys, except Dory who had a chill today, have gone to the Contest Exhibition. It is 10 o’clock and they are not home yet. I hear some one speaking most energetically. Bunnell is one of the performers. I believe I wrote you that his sister, Miss Hardy, has moved here and his mother and brother are coming soon.

            Last Friday night Lizzie Hunter staid with me. On Saturday all but Aunt E., Liz and myself went to the Decoration. It was a most beautiful day, reminding me very much of the same day a year ago when you and I were together. I supposed I would have an account in your letter of the Picnic you were going to attend, but you said not a word. Did you not go? And will you not tell me about it? Saturday night the Tennesseans gave a Concert in the Chapel. All went but Ma, Liz and myself, and all were delighted with their singing. Yesterday was again a lovely day. Of course I staid at home. I did not feel well. I felt so very weak and was troubled as I often am now, with oppression in breathing. Today I have not been troubled with that, but it is about as much as I can do to get about. But you need not be alarmed about me for this is only what I must expect. I do not think I will have many more really comfortable moments till I am relieved of this precious burden. Even while I write I can hardly keep still, there is such continued commotion. And so at night I can hardly find an easy position. But I know all this is nothing to what is to come. I can make faces over these little aches and pains and I can laugh at them too. I am sure you would laugh to see me hobbling around like the weariest old woman. It is really funny. I can sympathize with Aunt Emma now, in her unwieldiness. We condole with each other many times in the day. I don’t really mind it so very much if I can only keep up my strength for the great struggle. And then, dear Hermann, if all is well, if the child is a perfect living child! Oh, how I hope that the coming of that little one may bring to me a new and better life, for I need it so. That it may indeed be an angel in our home. I did not need your last letter to make me feel so. I am glad, truly glad that you wrote as you did. I am ashamed of myself, yet I don’t believe I am quite as bad as you think, though I am not at all satisfied with myself. I have not objected to the lessons on account of the girls, but only because I fear you are doing too much. You know that I have not objected to the Saturday lessons very much, and just for the reason that I felt that perhaps the change and walk and the pleasure you have in the recitation might compensate for the time and strength you give to it. But when you wrote me that you were not feeling well, and would have to give up the Bible class, and yet that you had undertaken to give another lesson in addition to Saturday’s I felt it was entirely too much and I wished you would not overtax yourself by that second lesson. I know that you enjoy it so much that you will not feel that it is too much until you break down under it. As for Saturdays I only feared that when the hot weather came you would find it too much as I know how very hard you found it to bear the hot weather last year. I won’t “give up a little of my opposition” but all of it, since I see it would make you really unhappy not to teach the boy. I only hope that if you do feel you are doing too much, that you will give up at least one of the lessons. But it is but a short time now. I hope you will keep quite well. I wish that I knew the boy and maybe I will some day. As for the allusions in my letters, I feel so often and so much how inferior I am to the majority of your students and how far short of what I would wish to be for your sake, that I really cannot help feeling sometimes that you must care more for them than me. I don’t mean any particular one. When I can feel and hope as I have, with one exception, during these past few months that you really love me, jealousy has troubled me but little. May God grant that that once may not have harmed our little one. You remember it was when I first felt the life. I have been exceedingly troubled sometimes for fear some harm was done then, for I feared I had lost your love forever, and I could not control myself. I have not however been at all contented with my temper and disposition since I have been home. I know I have not had the right spirit and I have felt very badly about it and tried to do and feel right, not only because it is right, but for fear of the influence over the little one. This book says “The woman in this condition becomes hasty, passionate, jealous and bitter” but I think I ought to be able to control myself somewhat. It may be it is my natural disposition.

            It is very late and I must go to bed. I go to bed too late anyhow. And so good night dear Hermann. Tomorrow I will try to finish this poor scrawl and send it. As ever, your Lou.

Tuesday morning. [June 1]

It looks as if it would rain this morning and I hope it will as we need rain. Things do not appear to me to be growing thriftily. I wrote you about the flowers in the last letter, dear Hermann. The Cannas are planted out and are growing nicely. The lilies are very fine and I hope I shall succeed in taking good care of them so that they will bloom to welcome you, though I hardly think they will be in bloom so soon. The Wisteria is growing rapidly. I am only afraid that we won’t succeed in getting it trained. The Arundo [giant reed] is not up yet though green. I think the Pampas grass begins to grow.

You did send Anna’s letter after all and not Tante Eli’s. It is true that Anna has made mistakes in her English, but I do not think it is such a poor letter. I intend to write to them all very soon, or I’m afraid it won’t be done at all. My letter writing days for a time at least, are nearly over. I shall try to continue to write to you till the end. Sometimes I think that cannot be more than two or three weeks away, but I would like to keep up till after Commencement.

It was somewhat singular that you did not see the bundle and letter for Mrs. Byers in your satchel. I charged you about it several times just before you left and then I wrote about it soon afterwards for I was afraid you would overlook it. But it is all right or will be when it gets here, for I have not had time sooner to work it. Mrs. Byers did not send me the cost and I must write to her and thank her and get the bill so that I can send the money, unless you have settled it with her. I suppose you have not drawn your money yet or you would have sent me some. I would like a little. How are you going to come out? Have you paid, or rather, will you be able to pay all we owe this time? Is Mr. Harvey paid yet? Please try if possible to have at least $100 over at the end of the session. It will take that if not more for the expenses of sickness and for use during vacation and we ought to have some for the beginning of our little home if we are so fortunate as to have one.

Prof Atwater’s house is to be plastered this week. It has gone up very rapidly and looks as if it would be very comfortable. Anna Ballantine was down yesterday and spent the afternoon and she will be down Thursday or Friday to stay all night. She and her father expect to have a delightful time this Summer. First they are going to Omro to visit Mary and then taking Will with them they are going east to Bloomfield, N. J. to visit Hal. Anna said he had written that they were expecting them certainly, that they had a large house of fourteen rooms and were so situated as to be able to make their visit pleasant. Such a large house without any children, it seems to me, would be rather desolate.

Miss Morrison, I believe, will retire at the end of this session. She says the place does not suit her, nor does she want the place. I do really think the students have acted shamefully towards her. She is very kind to the girls, but they seem to take every occasion to insult and defy her. She bears it all patiently. Dr. Owen will take her house. Miss M. seems to have a good influence over Mrs. Owen. I am not so sure either that Dr. O will take the house for having had a consultation of physicians, they decided that Mrs. O should be sent to the Insane Asylum. I have not heard yet whether he has really determined to send her there. It seems that she dislikes him and quarrels with him more than any one else, but still it seems to me hard that she should be sent to the Asylum, for she doesn’t seem really insane. She knows everybody and everything but appears to be given up to melancholy and not to try to become interested in anything. It is a very sad case.

I saw in the paper the other day that messages can now be sent from N.Y. to England for 50 cts a word. Have you forgotten about sending me the June Scribners?

Four weeks from today will be your Commencement day. How I wish you did not have to stay a moment longer. But I suppose from what you said when here that I cannot look for you before Thursday or Friday. I was somewhat disappointed last Saturday that you did not come, but I had not expected you very much. Thank you again my dear, good, forbearing man for your letter. It was just what I needed and I hope you will never hesitate to tell me when I write or speak as I should not. You do not know how disgusted with myself I become and how I hope and pray daily that if I live, this mean, contemptible, hateful, narrow heart of mine may be made better, purified and changed, that I may indeed be a new creature. Not that I do not strive for that now, but it seems I am powerless and my prayers avail nothing. But God is good. If I die though, that is what troubles me, beside the thought of leaving you, how poor is my preparation, how little—not at all—fitted for the society of angels I am.

But there, dearest Hermann, I did not intend to worry and trouble you with these gloomy thoughts which come to me. I believe that I generally keep cheerful. I feel better today than yesterday and I cannot expect this last month to be as easy as the others. Ma says she has often been unable to walk, but I am not so helpless yet. I do hope, dear Hermann, that you will not neglect to take exercise because I cannot go out, or because I sometimes talk very foolishly need be no reason that you should not go into company and enjoy yourself. However this may terminate you will be kept closely enough confined for a month after you come home. I surely am not so selfish as to wish that you should deprive yourself of all enjoyment because I cannot share your pleasures with you. No, my Hermann, I am not quite so bad. Take all the pleasure you can and write me about it and believe that I love you sincerely and truly as I never have loved any one else, and love me if you can one so unworthy. Forgive me that I have hurt your noble, tender heart so much. I will try not to write you any more such letters as this or the preceding ones. Do you still get my letters in the morning? I hope for a letter from you again this week, dear Hermann. I will try to send you one Saturday if not before, and probably one or two postal cards in the meantime. I hardly like to send this letter. I am afraid you will not like it but I have no time to re-write and perhaps would not do any better if I did. Please do not be afraid to speak plainly to me and write as soon as you can, dear Hermann. It is only a little while now.

Every your loving wife

L. W. B.

[The following was written in the margin on the first sheet]

            I am very glad you spoke to Dr. Küster. I feel easier to know that he thinks there is no danger. I suppose he means in case the cancer is not running.

Theophilus Adam Wylie Family Correspondence, 1806 - 1930, (bulk 1850 - 1930), Collection 2005.003.2849, Wylie House Museum, Indiana University, Bloomington.