Dear Clara,

This is the first letter I have written to you directly since I usually write to your mother Roxana. The summer will soon be fading and Peacham will once again see its vibrant fall colors. My thoughts however are in April 1881 when upon reading the sad news of the death of your brother Isaac, you wrote a letter to your sister Alice expressing your sorrow. You wrote in your letter that you felt it before you had even read the news that Isaac was already “sleeping in that little silent city”. He is “sleeping” at the top of the hill in the Peacham Cemetery surrounded by his family. I often take walks there stopping to say hello to your mother and visit the other family members sleeping there as well. I touch the headstones and think about each of your lives, wishing I could be that presence looking in and watching each of you in your daily life. I wish I could see Peacham back then and experience the daily comings and goings of life in the village. It seems so far removed from that now.

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.