March 30

What a dreadfully dull month we have had!  In terms of amusement and engagements,  I have never faced a more disagreeable time.  Though the Doctor is less than ten miles from us, we hardly see anything of him, and no other company is to be had!  The General and Mrs. Jackson spend so much time away from home; I have quite given up on having them in ours.  Though with the occupation of the General, I cannot blame them too much.  The Smiths, at Rock Castle, have too much to keep them on their own property as well.  I am in a desperate way for new company! 

I suppose, then, that is why I have been shipped off to the north, to Wickland Mansion, home of Charles Wickliffe.  Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Hegwood assumed I would find more diverting company here, but alas, it is more of the same, though instead of just bored, I am faced with also having to seem amused and polite around new people.  Thankfully for me, the weekend has also included a small festival, traders and people from all around have been using Mr. Wickliffe’s extensive grounds to set up shops and to sell and trade their wares.  Unfortunately, the weather must not have been in communication, for it is cold, overcast, and has rained.  I have not had any opportunity to explore any of the shops, and to peruse the people coming and going and to see if anyone I may know has arrived.  By now, it being nearly midnight, many of those people have gone.  I have nothing in which to say to shop-keeps, other than a query on price or product.

I have been in communication with my dear friend Ms. Bosworth, of Albany, New York, as constantly as the distance can allow, and I am excitedly anticipating her arrival in the Nashville area for the picnic and enjoyment of the spring-time weather we shall have next weekend.  The Doctor, anticipating the cobwebs and insanity that the long winter encourages, has taken all the work upon himself to set up a wonderful gathering.  I feel as though I have not seen any of my circle of acquaintance and friends in a life age, and if anything can put me into a better humor, it is them.  

To the south, back at the plantation, the weather has been so fine, perfect to my tastes.  Quite warm with mild evenings and little rain.  I have spent the majority of my time out of doors, practicing my archery when I am able, spending some time amongst the horses (much to the chagrin of Mrs. Hegwood and against the pointed advice of Mr. Hegwood), and walking the property that is fit to explore.  I have had to take care to not tread among too much tall grass, for ticks are to be found in abundance.  I live in dread of the Doctor being called to remove the engorged beasts from mortifying locations.  Should I live to be lucky enough for him to have his hands upon me in places not already touched by dancing, I would wish it to be the subsequent aftermath of marriage, not because I was careless of my surroundings.  I shall certainly have nightmares of it tonight.  

I have discovered a very overgrown path in the south pastures; it weaves about a small thicket nearby to a stream.  I walk the length of it I feel safe doing so at least once a day, and ponder what it leads to and who created it.  Mr. Hegwood suggests it is a deer path, since it is next to water, but I think he has not imagination enough.  I feel as though whenever I am upon it alone, dozens of eyes watch my progressions.  I feel no fear when I am there; however, for very near at hand is the overseer’s cabin, and should I cry for help, someone would certainly hear me.   

Tomorrow, if the weather is suitable, I shall explore the Wickland grounds, and spend some of my money.  Nothing cheers me up quite like new things.
Beautiful photo by Mark Selter


  1. You look simply lovely in your spencer! You're work is such an inspiration.

  2. Dear Miss Waterman,

    Thank goodness that the boredom of early spring is about to forsake you for the joys of the company of friends and dear ones. Despite mild weather this year, there is something so *lengthy* about these months, as if one must sit and twiddle one's fingers for years on end before anything actually happened.

    Here where I sit, unaccustomed warmth and sunshine brought us April in March. Such a sudden show of color and scent, and the spring meet still weeks away! Thankfully the azaleas bloom at least for the races, which have started at last. Your love for horses should draw you here sometime in the future, for there are few occasions as stirring as cheering on the Thoroughbreds.

    Warm regards from Kentucky,

    Mrs. Ferguson