Ellen Axson Wilson to Woodrow Wilson

It is a beautiful morning; I have been strolling about the garden and will now write to you before settling down to sew. I am having as I predicted quite a lull in “business”; everybody is at work; even the masons have begun on our chimneys this morning, and Mr. Thompson must be away for I have not seen or heard of him for some three days. Yesterday Mary and I spent a quiet afternoon out of doors, she reading aloud, I sewing and we will probably do the same today– unless we “go trollying”! I am perfectly well, Father is all right and there is no news at all;—It is a good time to tell you about a matter that is making me very sick at heart,– has given me several sleepless nights in the last two weeks. I will not have to write the whole story because the enclosed letter from Mamie Erwin will tell it. You saw her first letter did you not? — telling me of little Hamilton's death? When I answered I begged her to write me all about the family, speaking of how I had begged in vain for letters before, and how it had distressed me to be so helplessly ignorant of them all. This came in reply,— this miserable story of a broken household. Isn't it terrible? I always knew that everything depended on Beth, but even I did not expect such a complete demonstration of that fact. Think of three of the children dead, and the rest scattered;— and, worst of all, none of them getting any education and sinking down even in the social scale. It is Ellie, of course, that I am chiefly distressed about because owing to her age (fifteen) and sex, her needs are most pressing. — I was interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Will Hoyt to spend the rest of the day and night. Have had no chance to go on with my letter today. Tomorrow we all leave together on the 9.05; I to New York. That adorable love letter this morning, dearest, made me happy beyond words. Ah how I love you!