Sunday Evening Dec. 30, 1855.

Beloved Mary

I said a little too much in my other letter to you concerning not looking for you. I could not help looking down the road of an evening to see if any one was coming in a buggy drawn by a white horse. But I have not thought it probable that you would come the weather being so very unfavorable. Indeed I think it would be imprudent for you to come while it is so cold. I would, you know, be very glad to have you here. It seems that New-year will find us separated as we were last new year. I hope not, however. I should like for you to be here as I bought some pork and the lard is not cooked. But there is no danger of its spoiling while the weather remains so cold. It is frozen hard now. That last cold spell froze our apples and potatoes too, I fear, so that they will soon rot. I am sorry but can blame no one but myself. I hope that if we do not have potatoes and apples we will have something else that we can subsist upon.

We (I mean the people) have been wonderfully blest, providentially, in the year that is closing as we have had not only the necessaries of life but also the luxuries. We should endeavor to be thankful for these blessings considering them as a bounty, and not, therefore, sepine if we should not always have these luxuries.

Since writing the above I attended the bible class. I have now gone the round of Sunday exercises, Sunday school in the morning afterward the church meeting and Bible class in the evening. It is better for me to be thus engaged, particularly, as you are gone otherwise I would be lonely. The clouds are vanishing and the sun is shining out this evening very beautifully. I think the weather will probably admit of you coming home soon. It will be too cold to-morrow.

I have been interrupted here, to eat a few potatoes which I had put in the fire. While I was eating I remembered the narrative of "Gen. Marion feasting the English officer on sweet potatoes". How the officer would have ridiculed the idea of classing sweet potatoes with luxuries, as I intimated above. I still contend that they are a luxury to me at least.

I regret that I cannot relieve you from your "state of suspense". I have not had any word from Summer. I suppose that matter is settled. I expect we can do no better than to stay here. That is what I expect to do from existing circumstances. I cannot tell what may present itself. I suppose every thing will come right in the end. Be patient and hope. 

I have not heard from my relatives since Friday; they were all doing very well except Sanderson's little son. His neck had risen, swollen, to an enormous size, then began bleeding, and continued until he had almost bled to death. His neck broke inside. Evaline Anderson (the widow) was married last thursday night to a Mr. Reagan, of Fentress County. He is of a good family, but has not given evidence of being much himself. He is young, however, being only 20 years of age. He came down about a couple of weeks ago to Mr. Denton's, who is his uncle, on foot with but few clothes and no money. Evaline gave him money, to buy his wedding clothes, and they were married without the knowledge of his friends. This shows recklessness on his part. I fear the consequences. Not much wonder though Evaline is so captivating.

Tell Amanda that I can defend myself for not sending Mr. Farriss. I sent Mr. Mitchell thinking that she prefered him from the run of her conversation after coming from the party down here. There has been a succession of parties here. Mr. Young says they have run it into the ground. Tell Amanda to come down with you again and we will try to marry her off before Christmas is entirely gone.

I have not been to see whether the buggy was done or not since thursday. It was not quite finished then. Glover seems to be pressed for something to eat. He came to me last week and said he had no money nor credit and no bread for dinner and wanted me to tell Jo. Snodgrass to let him have a hundred pounds of flour on Fathers credit which I did. 

I will quit writing at present hoping that you may be able to deprive me of the privilege addressing you in this troublesome manner any more soon. I want to see Edwin's pig very badly. Love to all and especially to you and Eddie.

Your husband

W.J. Hill


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Transcription used with permission of Charles Massey.

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Transcription by Charles Massey.
Image by G. Anne Sloan