Sunday night Sept. 4, 1859

My dearly loved Mary

I will write a few lines to induce you to write. You did not write to me this last mail. I suppose you thought I would probably not be at home to get it. I am sorry that I am not so situated that I can leave. I have felt to-day like I could not do without you long. It has been raining all day, nearly. Erasmus and Mr. Howard have been with me but I could not but sigh for the one I love more than all others. I think about you all day and dream of you and the children at night. 

I will have several hands to pull fodder to-morrow. I wish you were here to help me fix for their dinners. I have engaged 9 or ten hands. I will have to take them dinners and I need your ingenuity to devise the best way of fixing it up, but you are not here and we will have to do the best we can.

Mr. Rogers is on his way to Nashville to-night. He will return in about a week. Erasmus is looking out himself a millseat. He has ascertained that the Pankey place cannot be bought since the minors have an interest. He is much disappointed. He intends to explore the river in search of some other seat. I wish he may find a place suitable as he seems to desire it so much. He talks of seeing whether he cannot make arrangements to put up a steam mill if he can't find water power to suit him. 

My hogs still have the cholera. My pigs are all dead but two. Lu's and Eddie's. I think they will live perhaps till they get home. Tell them they may feed them when they come home. Tell them that Pa has raised them some pop-corn. It has yielded finely, that is, what Mr. Rogers' calf left. 

I don't know what else to write to you. The burden of my letter is that I am very anxious to see you and the children. I am almost in hope that you will shortly write for me to come after you anyhow so that I may have an excuse to quit business. I would make arrangements somehow to have you come soon if it was not for father. He seems anxious that you should stay awhile. For his sake you ought to stay awhile anyhow. O, I hate not to get a letter from you. A kiss for the children and two for you paid when I see you.

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