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."