You expressed the goodness in Isaac. As so many of you left, Isaac was the one that remained. He was, as you put it, “so useful to others”. Until he left for the war, which as I’m sure you know was against his father's wishes, he had always been the dutiful son by his father’s side helping with the farm.
As you expressed your sorrow, I could feel the longing and sadness in your words as you wrote “only Augustus left of the five boys who belonged to our family, I can scarcely realize that they are all gone.” And sadly not long after this letter, Augustus departed this earth as well. It would be the women, like yourself who would endure.
You asked the question, “will our old home where so many have been born, and so many breathed their last, pass into stranger’s hands?”. Sadly yes. The farm sold not long after the death of your brother Daniel Augustus but remains standing, or at least a section of it, today. I had the opportunity and pleasure to see the old homestead, and I was so touched by the presence I felt as I walked into the original 1790 portion of the house. It was as though I could feel you all next to the fireplace, together as a family. Most of your original house was lost but the small cape was lovingly restored and a beautiful addition added. I wonder what you would think of it now, or for that matter what would you think of Peacham now? Would you find it much changed? The remainder of your letter is general happenings of your life in California, you even mention how you “were all awakened last night by a sharp earthquake shock which seemed to last sometime”. In fact an earthquake did occur on April 10th, 1881 between 2:00 and 2:15 am in the morning.
As they say, life goes on, even after death and as you close your letter you talk of writing letters to other family members, remembering you to family, and being her most affectionate sister.
So as I close this letter, I remain your most affectionate great, great, great granddaughter.
