Ruth and Dave, the pigs, get slaughtered so there are a lot of jokes. Ruth has been busy working with a patient in Altamont, NY and has little time to write. Dave suffers another gruesome injury to his finger.
[Addressed to Altamont, N.Y., c/o Arthur Tiffany]
December 9, 1935
Preston Hollow
Hello Hon,
No, I haven’t moved down here but I suppose I might as well considering the time I spend here. It is now 9:30 and I didn’t like the idea of going home and writing so Lydia donated the fancy paper.
We butchered at home this morning. No, I didn’t do the sticking. I held them down while my father did it. One of them was so stubborn it took him about ten minutes to die.
After dinner I came down here and they were just killing Fran’s pigs. They didn’t need our assistance though so we all went to Middleburg and left Lydia at Fran’s place while he and I did some running around. We came back about dark and stopped my house to carry the pigs in and hang them up. Boy did we have fun. They weighed 237 and 220 and Fran and I had to hold them up in the air for about five minutes before my father was able to get the chains fastened. After that we came down here and had supper. Pig’s livers. I wish you could have been here to help eat it. Fran made a regular hog of himself. He ate more than Lydia and I together.
Yep, Dave and Ruth are pork chops now.1 Dave weighed 142 and Ruth 120. I wish you could hear all the wise cracks that have been passed here tonight. Lydia is writing to you also so I suppose she will tell you plenty. I told her she couldn’t put it in with mine unless I read it and she said O.K. if I wouldn’t change any of it.
Boy it seemed good to drive a new road home last night. I came home in three quarters of an hour. It was only 30 miles. At least we are a little closer together but it is still 30 miles too far, dearest.
Pappy is whittling away on his lamp and making plenty of noise so I probably won’t be able to think of half of what I wanted to say. One thing I won’t forget though is I love you.
Fran even had to remind me that he whispers all his letters to Lydia now. I don’t know why the whisper though. He says if you don’t mind eating salt pork and sow belly, you can come down here and board.
That man’s mouth is running a steady stream. If I could write shorthand, I would take it all down for you. He just asked Lydia if she told you about slopping the pig and then he added that he would show you how he did it when he sees you. Now he wants to know how the patient’s pulse is. I think he has gone completely nutty. You’ll have to give up your case and come down and straighten him out.
Did you get any sleep last night or any night for that matter? I hope you won’t work yourself down to nothing now that you have a job. Your own health comes first after all, dear, and you have got to take care of you for me.
Lydia wouldn’t give me any more paper so I’ll have to finish up on this pad.
I forgot to ask you if you want me to go into Albany for anything next Sunday or come directly to Altamont, also what time you can best get out?
I suppose you are doing plenty of laughing this week over those pictures. Oh well, I won’t get mad as long as I can’t see or hear you. I don’t think I laughed at any of yours did I.
Guess I have given you about all the happenings so I’ll sign off and go home. This letter should be fat enough for you with Lydia’s included. She is worrying that I will use up all the pad now.
Good night, sweetheart, and lots of love.
Always yours,
Dave
P.S. I just censored Lydia’s letter and I guess I’ll have to let it pass. Rather cute about the rent don’t you think.
[Lydia’s letter]
Dear Ruth,
I am supposed to tell the truth and nothing but the truth about Dave and Fran.
Both of them have been slapping the pig to beat the band because it was Ruth—but wouldn’t dare to if it was you in person, so please give them a good slap when you see them. Fran is pretty proud of his pig. Dave had two nice ones. We stopped there. We also saw Fluf and she was big as a wash tub.2
“We also saw Fluf and she was big as a washtub” – Lydia Sprague, 1935
Please note the good paper Dave is using for a change.
Pete sure has his stomach full.
Francis’s mother is coming down Wednesday. If you can come down Xmas, Francis will come up after you. Dave doesn’t mind. I guess he is going out to his sister’s.
When do you intend to rent the rooms? Maybe I should say when does the pay start? Half of your belongings are here and Dave spends 2/3 of his time here. Talk about Eva and H. getting the board money, you ought to pay rent first.
Thomas and Phoebe (Nichols) Adams and their daughter, Ruth (b. 1888)
By the way, when did my grandmother break her arm?3 Nobody told me. Yes, Harvey Wood had heart trouble.
I made a good footstool. I nailed three boards together and they all are making fun of it. The other two look too good to put shoes on. Fran sanded the table today.
Fran is giving me a line to give you. He ate over a pound of liver tonight. He says you have something coming. I suppose a slap like the pig. She weighed 120.
Well, be good for goodness sake. I am glad I haven’t any more paper or else Dave would use it all up. Don’t write such long letters to him or else buy him a 5 cent pad.
Be good.
Love,
Lydia
December 11, 1935
Altamont, N.Y.
Dear Dave,
I have nothing much to write about since we haven’t been killing pigs or anything else around here.
We occupied ourselves this afternoon by changing Mrs. Fredericks from her bed to a single bed. We had to set both beds up in the room at the same time so of course all the other furniture had to be moved out. We put her on a sheet and four of us moved her with very little effort. She has a son-in-law who seems to think what he doesn’t know isn’t worth knowing. When he finally decided I would do it my own way anyway, he gave in. It so happens that was one of the few things I learned at school.
Frederick broke a mirror in the fracas so he says he is in for seven years of bad luck. He is in for worse than that if he doesn’t mind his ways. Last night after I had gone to bed and Mrs. Fredericks was settled down for the night, he went upstairs and tried doing a flip on his bed. It was a twin bed so consequently he landed on his can. I thought he was coming through the ceiling. He said he itched a little where he hit. He scared his grandmother half to death.
Mrs. Tiffany says she is going to check up on me and see how many letters I receive in a week.
If you ask me, I think the little “love nest” in P.H. has been changed into a mad house. Of course all I know is what I gathered from your letters. So you and Fran take advantage of my absence and pick on me. O.k. by me, but don’t let it happen when I’m around ‘cause I seem to have developed my muscles more of late. It gets harder every day. I feel a little lame at times.
We had the best night last night we have had at all. I only got up three times where I have been getting up six or eight. Mrs. Fredericks slept two hours this forenoon so I managed to get a little rest. The doctor said her blood pressure was the lowest today it had been in some time. I think her general condition is a little improved.
As far as I know now you can plan to be up here about 6 p.m. Sunday night and we will go to Albany and get those pictures ready to send.
If I get paid, I will probably want to go to Albany some afternoon next week. I’ll let you know about that Sunday.
If she doesn’t get worse, I will probably still be here Christmas. I hope so anyway. The case isn’t easy but after being out of work so much I won’t kick if I have to be up the whole of the 24 hours.
I am about to have something to do so I’ll sign off.
Lots of love,
Ruth
P.S. I’ll let you give Lydia her letter. I’m sending this by Frederick so maybe it won’t get mailed.
[Addressed to Altamont, N.Y., c/o Arthur Tiffany]
December 12, 1935
Middleburg, N.Y.
Dearest Ruthie,
Your letter came today so I’ll scribble off a few lines in answer. I didn’t write last night because there wasn’t much to say and I thought it best to wait until I heard from you.
I hope you can make out this scrawl because that’s all it is. I tried to repeat my performance of last winter when I lost a fingernail only this time it is on my right hand and it sort of interferes with my writing. I was down helping Fran putter around today and just before dinner we decided to take your tire off and find that leak. In the process I somehow managed to stick my finger between the tire iron and the rim just as Fran pressed down on it. The nail isn’t out as far as the other one was, but it will eventually come off.
Now if you weren’t working, I could give you something to do just to keep in practice. Lydia wasn’t there at the time and when she came back she said she should have known better than to leave the two of us there alone.
They have gone to M. tonight to take some pork down to his mother. Mom and LaVere are also in M. to the senior play. LaVere is playing in the orchestra. I expected to take them but someone else came along and offered so I didn’t have to. It didn’t make me at all mad because I am just about out of what they call money and it seems as though I have to put gas in that car every five minutes. I have used fifteen gallons since Monday morning.
I take it from your letter that you are pretty busy. It seems your life is from one extreme to the other. Don’t take your resting time to write to me, sweet. I would rather you get all the rest you can. If your letters don’t come, I won’t worry because I know you love me.
I could probably think of more to write but this finger is throbbing like a toothache so I think I’ll wash it again and see if I can get to sleep. I have had quite a time trying to keep from putting a track mark on this letter. I seems to insist on soaking blood thru six yards of bandage, but I would rather see it do that than clot up under the nail.
I’ll try and remember the stamps and stationery and I’ll see you Sunday at 6 P.M.
Always yours.
Love,
Dave
December 12, 1935
Altamont, N.Y.
Hello Honey,
I doubt if I get more than time to write “I love you” in this letter but whether I do or nor you know I do, don’t you, dear?
Gee, am I the busy woman or am I. I have tried for three days to get a letter written to my mother and just succeeded. I had time to write yesterday but I was so tired I went to bed instead. We certainly do have hectic nights around here. Seems like I’m up at least once every hour. The doctor left medicine to make her sleep but it didn’t do any good at all. She doesn’t breath so hard but aside from that I think she is about the same. I have been interrupted twice so far since I started this letter so you can imagine what it is like.
The doctor comes twice a day but I haven’t figured out why yet. Yesterday afternoon I was asleep when he came.
Don’t forget to save the pigs’ gizzards for me. Frederick shot a hen pheasant yesterday. I told him I wouldn’t keep quiet about it unless he gave me the gizzard.
How are Lydia and Fran? Oh yes, I mustn’t forget to inquire about Fluffy and Pete. Being as how I’m a busy woman these days, me thinks the cat with the grey tail will have to be bathed by her old man. If you get what I mean.
Well I guess I have earned something like twenty bucks so far. That means eight for the Exchange and twelve for you. Of course you understand that when I turn my income over to you I also hand over the National War debt.
How did it seem to get in early Sunday night? If your sister finds out about that, she will surely think we are all caught up.
You should be around about the time Frederick and I are lifting his grandmother up in bed. We usually get to laughing and to top it all off I manage to break at least one strap. You would appreciate that.
We are going to try putting her on a single bed and see if it isn’t easier to lift her. I guess they will put it up on blocks so I don’t have to bend over so far. They just bought a $39.50 mattress for her bed this afternoon.
I’ll try and write again before Saturday but in case I don’t, you can plan to be up here about 6 p.m. Sunday. I’ll want to go to Albany after my pictures. Maybe I can manage to get a little more than three hours off. I should be able to after staying in all the week.
I have to quit now.
Lots of love,
Ruth
P.S. I’m sending a dollar with which you can pay for my uniform. You can get me some stamps, envelopes and paper. Not that I’ll get a chance to use them but just in case I should it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have it on hand.
Good night, my sweet.
“Me”
Footnotes
- Ruth and Dave were acquired earlier in the Fall (detailed here), so they must have grown fast!
- The letter from Lydia was written in pencil on small note paper (shown in the photo); the name “Fluf” is a guess at what this might say – it may have been in reference to a cat or possibly another pig.
- Lydia had living grandparents at the time this letter was written, Phoebe (Nichols) Adams (1857-1947) and Thomas Adams (1850-1937; shown in the photo). They married in 1877 and had seven children. Lydia’s mother, Isabelle, was born in 1882 and died of influenza in 1912, along with her husband (and Jennie Sedgemore’s brother) Eber Spencer.