Augusta County: A. (?.) Gilkeson to Gilkeson's
brother (probably Hugh Gilkeson), September 21, 1858
Summary:
Gilkeson writes at length about his mother's death. He also tells of plans to
start a new hardware business in Staunton; and he offers his brother advice
about buying a slave.
September 21st/58
Brookfield
My Dear Brother
We received your letter on yesterday. I would have written to you a week or two
since, if I had known you would have expected another so soon. But I suppose
that David has given you the full particulars of our dear Mother's sickness and
death; and that you would not expect another letter from us before you would
write. David says he thought he had had been particular to state all the
circumstances; but there are many things which might occur to your mind which
would not occur to him, especially when writing at that particular time. I will
attempt the mournful task of giving you the full particulars. Some time in the
day on Tuesday, the 24th of August, I came down here and
found Mother in bed quite complaining. David said that she had retired the night
previous as well as usual, but [added: in the
morning] awoke quite unwell. I think she dressed herself that day, but laid
on the lounge all day. She retired to bed on Tuesday night and never left it
again. We wished to send for the Doctor the first day,
but she would not agree to it. On the following morning we sent for him,
notwithstanding she still objected. He pronounced her very sick, and said he
thought it was pneumonia. He visited her daily after that, and [added: I] think he still adhered to his first opinion as to the
nature of her disease. When she was first taken she threw [added: up] some blood and once or twice afterwards, but the
quantity at each time was inconsiderable. I think she gradually declined from
the first. I had very little hopes of her recovery after the first day; and, I
think, she was impressed with the belief from the
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first that she
would not recover, as she several times remarked to us that it was useless to
give her medicine. She suffered no severe pain during her sickness. The first
day or two she complained of pain in her breast and on side, but afterwards
always told us that she had no pain. There was evidently a constant uneasiness
in her chest, as she would often put her hand on her breast, even at the time
she was saying that she had no pain. We thought that we could see that she was
growing worse every day from the first. She did not rest well at night, yet it
was not deemed necessary to sit up with her, although someone laid on the lounge at her side for several nights previous to her
death. On Saturday we concluded that it would then be necessary to sit up with
[added: her] throughout the night, and on that
day Emma and I came down to stay until there would be a change. Doctor Watson (who you know has been practicing in partnership with Doctor Shelton for several years past) came to see her on Saturday
evening, and told us when he left, that if she continued to be so restless and
seemed as if she would not sleep that we must about 10 O'clock give her a few
drops of the elixir of opium. David sat up with her the first part of the night,
and I retired about 9 O'clock. At 10 she appeared so restless and uneasy that
David administered the opium according to directions. She soon fell into a sound
sleep. When I came down about 1 O'clock I found her sleeping very soundly; and I
felt fearful from that time that she would never again open her eyes in this
world. And, My Dear brother, my heart bleeds to say that my worst fears were
realized. At early dawn father and I made use of every effort that affection
could suggest or judgment could dictate to [unclear: arouse] her, but
our efforts were unavailing. After breakfast we sent for one of the Doctors: Shelton came, and, after inquiring what means we
had used and making
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some more efforts himself, told us that human
skill could avail nothing. She slept on in this way, without changing her
position, until about half past four in the afternoon, when she calmly and
sweetly passed from this world to, as we hope and trust, a better and a happier
one. I am sorry I cannot tell you her last words. A short time before I retired
on Saturday night I was sitting by her side, when she asked me if it was Emma
who was coughing: she had, I think, heard someone
coughing in the adjoining room. These are the last words I remember to have
heard her utter. I think she made some remark to David about taking the opium;
and if so, they were her last words. I do not know know that she said anything during her sickness in reference to her
approaching end. But I do not wonder at that, as her mind has been very much of
a wreck ever since the severe spell of sickness she had three years ago. And, as
a matter of course, when she became sick her mind sympathized with her body, and
was proportionally weaker. Yet, I do not think her mind was as much affected by
her last sickness as by her sickness in 1855. Mother has never indeed been
herself since [deleted: the] the severe spell of sickness she had in
the beginning of the year 1850. We buried her by the side of your little
daughter, leaving room enough between the graves for another grave; thinking
that the ground would not be as likely to be occupied as if it had been left on
the other side of Mother's grave. You are mistaken in supposing Mother to have
been a few months older than Father. She was just one month younger. Father was
born on the 21st of February 1785, and Mother on the 20th of March of the same year. I can scarcely realize even
yet, that our dear Mother is no more. Mother, Dear Mother! Thou art gone: may
all thy family be re-united to thee in another and a better world. The thought
is truly distressing that the opium we administered for her relief should have,
in all likelihood,
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hastened her death. But, there is some relief in
the thought that it, very likely, saved her some hours severe bodily suffering.
After death she wore the calmest and sweetest expression I ever saw. I have
thought for years that she could not be with us long; but O! I did not think
that I could feel her loss so much. Father bore up at first very well, but I
think, within the last few days, he seems to feel his loss more sensibly. He is
truly one of the best of men Oh! may he be spared to us yet a long time, with
his physical and mental facilities unimpaired. His health is very good at
present. He was at the springs when Mother was first taken sick, but returned
the next day. That was the time appointed for his return when he left home. He
has been troubled some this summer with the eruption in his face, but it has not
yet been near so bad as it has been at this season for several years past. His
eyesight is very much improved: can read with the assistance of spectacles
nearly as well as he ever could. You asked in a former letter what the Doctor charged for the operation: his charge was $500. We paid him $200, with the understanding that we
would pay him another hundred at a future day if [unclear: we] might see
[unclear: proper]. This was the compromise I don't think I could ever see [unclear: proper], for I consider
him amply paid already. You will probably be surprised to learn that I have
changed my business. Mr Woods (who married cousin [unclear: Lucy]
Gilkeson) [added: and I] have bought out a hardware
store in Staunton. Mr Woods has been engaged in the shoe business there since
last spring. He sold out his shoe store, or rather put it in as part pay for the
hardware. We will move to Staunton in the course of two or three weeks: expect
to board for the present. We would have bought land but could not do so without
going in debt several thousand dollars, and were afraid to rent[illeg.]
for fear of the effect upon Father. You doubtless remember how uneasy he was
after purchasing the [illeg.] farm, & [unclear:
though
] yearly payments there were not half as heavy as they would have been
if we had purchased now. And it was necessary that we should make some change,
as there were too many of us here to think. There is another hardware store in
Staunton. It is generally thought that we will do well. The stock cost a little
over $5000, and we will make an addition of another thousand soon.
You ask our opinion about selling some land and taking a mortgage on a negro woman. We do not know what advice to give. I did not know that you had any more land than you want. If you should take a mortgage on the woman, what would be your situation if the woman were to die? or would you take a lien [deleted: ] the land besides? Another thing, I do not believe, as a general thing, that it is desirable to own both husband and wife. I, however, do not pretend to offer any advice, but just throw out these hints for what they are worth. Mr [unclear: Mogers] and wife are here today. He will start for home in the morning. I will send this letter by him, as you will no doubt get it earlier than by mail. Do write as soon as you receive it. Can't you come to Virginia & spend the winter with us? We would be so glad to see you. David & wife, I think, have declined going to Georgia this winter. Come if you can, I think it would cheer Father up very much. And you know he [continued on top of first page] is now getting quite old, & if you do not get to see him soon you may never see him. It has now been a lonely time since you were here, hence, we would all be delighted to see [added: you] and your children if you could bring them.
All desire to be affectionaly remembered to you and your dear little ones.
Do write soon and often. You know not how glad we are always to receive a letter
from you.
I am as ever your sincerely attached Brother
A. [illeg.]. Gilkeson
