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| Cynthia Adeline Merritt 1891 |
Letter of Cynthia Adeline Merritt, daughter of Levan Wheeler Merritt, to Isaac H. Merritt and family and Ella Merritt, widow of Henry Merritt.
Source: Bill Wilcox, Madison, WI, 1980, copy to Gordon Merritt
When she lived in Washington, DC she lived
at 1012 13th St. NW, two blocks north and three blocks east of the White House.
Letter:
1469 Fillmore St. June 29, 1922
Denver, Coto.
Saturday.My dear Helen:
At last I have sent you the coral
beads that were my sister Julia's. I regret to have been so long in fulfilling
my promise but I could not help it. Of course I see that I might have sent the
beads alone much sooner, but there were other things I wanted to send
too and so I waited to be able to do all together, for I am so often unable to
do even the little things. As to the beads, I suppose our father must have
given them to her. She was five years older than I and I cannot remember when
she did not have them. She wore them a great deal when s young girl and a young
lady. But not in her later life much if any, and always kept them in the little
red box.
I put in for you an old daguerreotype
of her which shows her wearing the beads. I imagine she was then somewhere about
twelve years old. You will notice the beads in the picture are strung differently. Also it shows her eyes were having a bad
time. I do not remember anything about all that, but I do recall hearing my mother
and her talking about the attack of eye trouble she once had. Whatever it was,
she got over it without bad results and had excellent sight. In those days,
likenesses were obtained by travelling picture takers, which I suppose accounts
for having hers taken while so afflicted. Probably it was then or not at all. I
also put in one which shows her as a little girl with curls.
I cannot guarantee that the beads are
safe to wear after all these years -- the strings may not be strong enough. But
you will probably wish to string them over anyway. You will notice that the
clasp is marked -- "J.L.M." I cannot explain that, for she never had
a middle name or letter.
She was named
for my father's sister whose girlhood name was simply "Julia
Merritt". I cannot account for that "L". It might be that my
mother wanted to call her Julia Levan, but I know my father disliked his own
name so that he never would consent to giving it to one of his children. I can
remember how mother begged to call the last boy for him --Levan Wheeler -- and
how he utterly refused to consent. At last he told her "You may call him
Lee if you want to -- I was called Lee, as a boy. But I will not consent to
Levan." So at the age of three years, our Lee was christened "Lee
Wheeler". The rest of us all liked "Levan" so much that we
begged too. Cousin Levan was named for him, of course, and everyone else always
called him that, but my father always called him Ezra, which was his first
name. Julia had no middle name or letter, so you can forget that unaccountable
"L".
The little red heart also I can't
account for. She never wore it and it does not belong with the beads. I found
it among her things after she died. It was not with the beads or ever attached
to them. You can give it away to someone, as I was going to do myself, but am
sure I finally let it get in. It looks like carnelian.
The little
old-fashioned ring was my mother's -- given her in her girlhood by her girlfriend
-- "C.S.B." You will see also my mother's initials —
"C.P.L." -- for her maiden name, which was Cynthia Patience Loomis.
She gave the ring to me in my own girlhood and I wore it then. But now it would
not go over the knuckle of my smallest finger — my hands being so swollen with
neuritis these last years. I just thought you would prize it as a keepsake of
your great-grandmother Merritt, and "a sweeter woman ne'er drew
breath". It is pretty well worn and thin and has been broken and mended,
as you will see.
I am so glad to know, Helen, that you
do care for such relics. These things have little money value, but in
association and affection are priceless -- to me.
I want and intend, if I am ever able,
to write out a genealogical list (as far as I can) of our ancestors. I think
families are too careless about that. It will be a hard task to do it, but I
can't be satisfied not to try.
The two old-time books that I put in,
call for a little explanation, but it is not easy without going back to the
beginning of that list, which I hope to do yet. So I'll, Just just for now,
start with my Grandmother Loomis.
Her maiden name was Electa Chase and
she was the youngest of a large family. She married Roswell Loomis, of Pawlet,
Vt. -‑ a "Green Mountain Boy".
They must have been very young.
I have dates and some dsts if I ever can do it. My
Grandmother's
oldest brother was Benjamin Chase who had married Patience Joy,
and her oldest sister was Cynthia Chase who had married Walter Durkee, and was
living in Grafton, N.Y. (down near Albany). My grandfather [Roswell, Jr.] Loomis was taken
ill, and died -- before my mother was born. My grandmother stayed with Aunt
Cynthia and there my Mother was born, nothing could exceed the loving kindness
shown them both by this brother and sister. If mother had been a boy her name
would have been Benjamin Chase Loomis. Being a girl, grandmother promptly named
her Cynthia Patience.
You see the
larger book was given to my mother by H. Chase, Christmas, 1835. He was
Benjamin's son Horace and so first cousin to my mother, but considerably older.
Before that, grandmother [Electa Chase Loomis Blake] had moved, to Clarkson, N.Y. on the Ridge Road,
between Medina and Rochester, where Benjamin was living.
There she met Hiram Blake whom she married was born Oct. 1. At the age of 16 she went to live in Cousin
Horace's family (in 1832) in Medina and help what she could with the children.
His first wife had died, leaving two little boys, Manly and Marcus (who was
always called "Mark") and he had married again and there were three
more sons and one daughter. This second wife [Amanda Turner Chase] was beloved by us all and she was
a real second mother to my mother and in after years the same to all us
children. Indeed all Medina felt the same way. She was highly gifted, mentally
and artistically, and if the opportunities possible now, could have been hers
then, she could have gone far and high in achievement. When I speak later of
"Grandma" Chase, she is the one I mean.
I pause here long enough to say that Mark Chase, son of
Horace, and second cousin to me, was the father of Julia Ryan Chase who married
my brother C.J. It bothered me manage two sisters "Julia", so I told
her I'd call her Julie C. Her own family called her "Julie" a good
deal. Sometimes I say Julie Chase and she says she likes to keep her old
name. Well, we're all Chases anyhow, and she and I are second cousins once
removed.
My father went to Medina (in 1833)
from Newtown, Conn., before R.R. days and when the Erie Canal was the mode of
transportation. (I suppose before that everything was by stage). He liked the
looks of Medina and settled down to work in Chase & Britt's store on the
canal dock. He went to Horace Chase's to board. They
always called Horace, "Cap'n Chase", and I suppose it had to do with
canal boats, somehow. That old Chase house is still standing -- a block up from
the old dock where tire store is now 2014] and it made me sick to see it when last in Medina and think of all
the long past, and the many now dead who found welcome, as I did, under
its roof.
Father and mother were married in 1840
and 1841 he bought the lot whereon he built our dear old home.
I put in the box
two handkerchiefs which have, each, and heavily embroidered corner, with
initials -- s "J" and a "C". The work was done by
Grandma Chase and given to my sister Julia sad me. Elsie had one too but -- I
gave it away, The handkerchiefs are not good enough for the work -- I wish they
were finer. Nobody can do finer needlework than your grandmother Ella and often
I have wondered if she couldn't make something nice of those corners. I used to
think I would try it myself, but I'd have spoiled it, There are also two
neck scarfs for which Grandma Chase embroidered some little triangular ends,
When my father was a very young man it was style to wear ruffled shirt bosoms,
and these two ties were made from his shirt ruffles, One was so worn that I
started to renovate it but never finished and they have been long laid away and
grown yellow. When Grandma Chase did that embroidery she was in her seventies,
and wore two pairs of spectacles. I am sure Ella can think up some way to use
the emb. pieces.
Well, I branched off -- was telling
about that old-fashioned young lady' s book that Cousin Horace Chase gave my
mother in 1835, when she was 19 years old. It is quaint and very unlike the
books of today, The very tiny,book is inscribed in my mother's own writing at
the age of nine years -- a birthday gift from her Aunt Cynthia in Grafton,
N.Y., and it is really a curiosity now.
I have thought you would really care
for these old relics. We always did, at home, and I hated to burn things.
Though I did have some bonfires and guess it would have been better if I'd had
more.
The bead bag was my mother's but I
don't know how old it is, or whose before her -- probably her mother's.
When I was a child I used to see it laid away in a box
in just the condition it is now -- worn out. I suppose it was intended to
repair it, but my poor mother with all our big family never had time for more
than the imperative daily needs of the household. Elsie used to mean to do it,
but she took to painting and other absorbing work, and there was not, in those
years, the "bag craze" of the present day to act as a spur, so this
remained packed away and forgotten. It may be not worth the effort now. The
thread of the beads may have rotten.
The two doilies of darned net were Elsie’s work.
I am so tired I must stop now, but will mail this at
once and write another to your grandmother to finish making mention of the
things. I began thils on Sat. but it is now Monday, the 26th. It is hard and
takes long for me to write. I think the
box should arrive by Thursday but this letter will not.
Aunt Cynthia
Dear Isaac
I began to tell
you with the box about some of those things I sent but was called off and could
not finish, and I've had to send "piecemeal" anyhow, for it has been
so hard to write and it almost did me in to pack that box anyway, so you can
see how good-for-nothing I am. Can do but little at best -- and have to stop
and rest often, or lie down. It took me two days to get the box packed --
working at it all day -- in relay style! Then a whole day to rest. Then a day
to go down to a paper store for a big strong sheet to wrap it, and lie down
when I got home and wait till next day to do it. I'm only trying to explain why
I am so maddeningly slow in all I do. It is the continual spinal pain which
hinderes or prevents me.
I put in for you the silver fruit and
nut pocket knife which was my mother's and bears her name (which was Cynthia
Patience Me -- you know). As men are blessed with pockets, and don't have to
tote bags, I thought you might find this "handy" at lunchtime. I
never see that kind of knife now but they were common when I was young, and
mighty convenient. One of my many reasons for being so slow to send the box was
that I wanted to scour that knife first and brighten it up, but my hands were
too bad to permit it and I waited. I also wanted to brighten the clasp on
Helen's beads and the ring -- but you see I didn't.
The gold pen was your Uncle Lee's, and
the other pen knife your Aunt Elsie's. The diamond glass cutter was my father's
and the reason I did not send it with his box of drawing tools was because it
had been so broken in packing and I wanted to find someone to mend it but have
failed. Father used it so much to cut glass and I used to watch in wonder as he
set window panes, framed pictures -- and once made a marvelous glass box! I
thought he could do anything. Those two old fashioned jack knives were his and
their worn blades tell for themselves how much he used them.
There are some handkerchiefs that were
Lee's. I don't know what men's styles are now, but if you can use them -- do
so. Two were never used.
The little toy plane was made by your
father [Henry S. Merritt] and I always thought it a pretty thing. We kept it in a little cabinet
of curios. He had been very ill of pneumonia and nearly died -- in Chicago.
Came home to regain strength, and one day, to busy himself, rummaged father's
tools and made that.
I keep mourning myself for your little
Robert [Isaac's son Robert Merritt died young in 1921], and wish he might have been spared. I know your lonely hearts miss him
without ceasing.
With love,
Aunt Cynthia
Isaac --
That little coil
of rope is, to my mind, one of the choicest Chase relics we have. I am sure I
did not forget to put it in the box. I have mislaid my memorandum about it but
will hunt it up and copy for you. One of our ancestors --Isaac Chase -- while
on a whaling voyage, made the rope, of whale sinews. The rope, all through my childhood, hung as a swing in the attic
over our woodshed in the Medina home. And all the grandchildren as they came
along (including yourself) played in it. When the home went, I took it down
intending to divide it among "us Chases". Here is your piece.
I have felt for
so long so doubtful if younger ones cared for family traditions and keepsakes,
as my parents and we always did, that it has been a great satisfaction to me to
find that Helen really does.
C.A.M.
June 28
Dear Ella:
Here is one more effort to finish
telling about the contents of that box. I sent it, and a letter to you and one
to Helen. Now here is another to you and one to Isaac.
When I write out (as I hope to do)
that genealogical list -- though not very complete, I fear it will give some
dates that I am not sure of now. However, I think it was in 1801 that my
grandparents -- Abijah Merritt and Hannah Sanford -- were married -- went to
housekeeping in Sandy Hook, Conn., in the town of Newtown. The homespun linen
which was my grandmother's own work was marked "H.S." when a part of
her wedding outfit, but "H.M." on what she made after marriages. Of
course she taught her daughter the art and what Aunt Julia made in after years
was marked with her own initials -- "J.M.". You asked me once about
this and I don't believe I ever answered.
In this box I put a homespun towel,
with fringed ends, "H.S." that I've cherished, for long. Helen might
as well have it now and will prize it. It might do for dresser scarf or stand
cover. Here there is so much black coal soot flying, that I do hate to put out
what I prize and the negro (sic) help in this boarding house don't take the
care I would. Oh, I long for my own little home!
It is useless (and really burdensome)
to keep things packed away unused. Of course I have looked them over, again and
again, and while it is all dear to me, yet I do think it isn't good for me. The
sad memories are too vivid, too depressing. It is better to forget the past --
or rather, not to dwell on it.
That strip of emb. edging I cut off a
worn-out dressing sacque of my mother's. Maybe you can use it. It looked dingy
and yellow from lying packed so long.
The curious black case was among my
father's things. I don't know what it is. I never saw it used. Was it a pocket
ink well and pen and pencil case? I can imagine nothing else. I suppose it must
have come from Newtown.
The snuffers and tray are marked as
you will see -- by Elsie. She tried to get everything labelled and laid away
but did not finish. I suppose many had brass instead of iron in those days --
candlesticks too -- but the Merritts did not. There was no excess of money with
them, though they had necessaries and frugal comforts. It was the same with us
at home and when divided by eight there was plenty that we "went
without". Our parents, and six of us youngsters to grow up -- I used to
ask my mother, in after years, how she ever went through the ordeal. But she
was not only Patience in name, but patience itself in her daily life.
She made home happy and our lessons in
self-denial were good for us. It was truly a happy home.
I have (before
now) sent you flaxen thread made by Aunt Julia [Julia Merritt Johnson, Newtown]. The hank in this box is sn
unfinished one, and quite fine. That is because it was not "doubled and
twisted" like the others. She sent us both so we could see the process of
making. Perhaps you can use this, too, in some of your work.
I put in a piece of beeswax. Father
used, to keep our whole acre of ground under cultivation or use of some trees,
shrubs, flowers and etc. He had great success and loved it -- bought books and made
study of methods. This was his recreation and until his strength failed with
years he kept it up. At one time he had bees -- 14 hives -- and we had all the
honey we wanted and plenty to sell. I can remember mother making great cakes of
beeswax when I was a child. This bit I sent is from her workbasket. She used it
and the marks show. It could be melted, skimmed clear, snd cooled and dried
again into good shape, if so desired.
The lead spoons were my grandmother
Merritt's (Hannah Sanford). They used to have a mold in those days in which
they poured lead to make spoons. There is such a mold in Newtown that I saw
once, but we had none -- naturally it went to the daughter, Aunt Julia. But
these lead spoons, Father had after his parents died. The 3 little iron spoons
came from there too. They are just curios now.
You will see my father's writing on
the paper wrapping of a pair of "calks", or "caulks", which
he used when a boy, to prevent his feet from slipping on ice. Once, when down
in Conn. on a visit, he found them stowed away and brought them for auld lang
syne, to keep among his cherished mementos. Most people miscalled them
"corks" then.
In those days
women and girls wore shawls. That little gay colored one saw much wear, and I
can remember it being pinned on me (folded corner wise) as they started me off
to Sunday School.
The white gauzy neck-kerchief I always
admired, but I think it was never worn by anyone. Before father left Conn. he
(with a partner) attempted a little dry goods store in Sharon, Conn. It did not
last long and in the closing out, the goods not sold were divided between him
and his partner. After father settled in Medina (1833) and was married (1840)
and built a home (1841), his share of these dry goods was brought from Conn.
packed in an old chest and placed in a storeroom upstairs. As years went on,
these things went far to clothe us children. "Go up and look in the old
chest", came to be a "household word". Well, this lively gauzy
thing came out of the "old chest". I want to give it to Ethel and it
seems to me she can wear it even now. (I've always wanted to, but never did.)
The pieces of wedding finery of my
father and mother were put away by Elsie long ego and I send them Just as she
marked and left them. It is better for me never to look at them again. And
there have been times when I think if I could have gone all by myself to a
furnace fire I should have burned all these and more. Perhaps this is the best
thing "you uns" could do!
Those white linen stocking, with
"clocks" knitted in, also initials "H.S.", are marked by
Julia and Elsie.
I am sorry I could not finish these
notes before sending the box but it was impossible. If I have forgotten
anything, you'll have to ask me. I fear I have made it tedious, and I do feel
worn out myself. I think you will probably get the box today (Thursday).
The little scissors were Elsie's. The
two doilies of darned net were her own work.
I thank you for your letters of May 16
and June 15 -- both unanswered. You are good indeed to write me when I neglect
you so.
I was interested in all you wrote and
glad to hear of all. So glad to know your sister is so well, and I hope and
pray it will be so for many long years to come. How much she has gone through!
And you too!
We have had awful storms -- electric
-- a great dread to me.
The heat is trying, but I keep very
quiet and am able to be around as usual. I take short walks, and sit in the
park (next block) but so far have waited for more strength and cooler days. You
asked about my hands. The hot weather always relieves one phase of the
difficulty, as it is only the cold weather that makes them chap, roughen, crack
and bleed. In winter that alone often makes them unusable. And added to that,
the cold causes the deadness and numbness that prevents any feeling or ability
to use them. Now it is so hot, this feature is not troubling, as they are all
healed over and so smooth I'm having a lovely time. But the swelling (caused by
neuritis) is never gone in any weather (now over five years) and the right hand
is still stiff from the "adhesion's" cased by the surgeon keeping it
too long bound immovable. These last two conditions make it always difficult to
use my hands, and I am often dropping things. Also, my hands sometimes cramp,
but on the whole I'm lots better off than my next door neighbor who is
paralyzed (last 3 years -- whole left side) and can't help herself at all. Is
cheerful always and never complains. Cared for by devoted daughter.
Say! I'm ashamed to complain.
A great deal is done here for the blind and I have
been interested to see their work at the Library of Congress. Once, there, they
gave me a pamphlet in Braille, and I have have given pages of it sometimes as
novelties to those who have never seen it. I put one or two in the box.
I had a Civil War "shin plaster" for Isaac
and some other bit I think but can't find them. Did I send them in letter? You
didn't mention them so it must be I didn't.
I am dead tired now and must rest. Shall be anxious to
know how this stuff -- letters and all, reach you, two to you, one to Helen,
one to Isaac and the box.
Letter of Cynthia Adeline Merritt, daughter of Levan
Wheeler Merritt
Obituary:
Cynthia Adeline
Merritt was born on 3 Jun 1847 in
Medina, Orleans, New York. She died on 10 Dec 1926 in Washington, D.C. She was
buried on 12 Dec 1926 in Medina, Orleans, New York. OBITUARY [Dec. 16, 1926]
Medina Newspaper, NY
Cynthia A. Merritt,
daughter of the late Levan Wheeler Merritt, and Cynthia Patience Loomis
Merritt, was born in Medina, June 3, 1847.
Her education was obtained in the old Medina Academy,
and for a number of years she was a teacher in the same school.
For many years she was a member and
active worker in St. John's Church. The frail health of her later years called
for a milder climate, and her time was divided between Southern California, and
Washington, D.C.
In the latter city her
beautiful life was ended December 10, 1926.
Her body was brought to Medina on
Saturday, Dec. 11, and the funeral was held at the home of John H. Chase 406
West Ave at three o'clock Sunday afternoon, December 12.
It was fitting that she should
rest for a few hours in the home where she was born, and from which her father,
mother, four brothers and two sisters had been carried to their last resting
place in Boxwood.
She leaves three nephews, Frank H. Merritt of Milford,
Iowa, James L. Merritt, of Seattle, and Isaac H. Merritt, of Denver, and two
sisters-in-law, Mrs. Charles J. Merritt, of Medina, and Mrs. Henry L. Merritt
of Denver.
The following old friends acted
as bearers:
George A. Newell, Charles N. Hood, A.G. Phillips,
Charles M. Jackson, Dr. Thomas H. Agnew, and William H. Munson.
To her friends, the memory of her keen wit and bright
intellect, her loving sympathy, and her wonderful patience through the years of
suffering, will always be an inspiration.
For her -- "The Journey is done, and the summit attained, and the barriers fall."
