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Mary Searls' Letter

Nevada Oct. 27th '54

My Beloved Mother

        What can I say—where can I begin—to tell you of all that has taken place within our little house the last two weeks. I wish I had written by the last steamer, as I might just as well have done for I was quite well, and busy sewing, but I could not bear to write again till I could tell you all. I was tired of keeping anything back in my letters. But the time has come at last when I need keep nothing from you any longer. I am sitting in my large rocking chair in the parlor by the stove, and on the sofa beside me lies the sweetest, tiniest little boy that ever you saw, and every little while I go and uncover his little face and try to realize that it is indeed my little one,—mine and Niles's—What a world of thought as well as love rushes over my heart while I look upon him.

        You know my dear mother far better than I can tell you—with what feelings I clasp my first born to my heart. A mother only can sympathize with a mother. There seems to be a new tie now to bind me to you—and indeed all our family—a new fountain of love is opened, and it seems to replenish all the old tendernesses and give new ardor to every affection.

—It is the fashion among the Pikes [Missourians] here to run the first day to see a new baby, and they take it as quite an unheard of thing to be refused admittance to the mother, but I took the liberty to refuse all company for one day and offended all whom I refused.

Mary


Courtesy of the Fred Searls Library