A Letter from Alexis L. Johnson
Granddaughter Elvira Frederica Johnson
Contributed by Carol Saylor
Schuyler, June 10, 1870
A beautiful bright and hot day.
My grand daughter Elvira comes to me with this paper and asks me to make some pictures for her.
But I am no picture maker. So I will write a letter for her to read at some day when she is older and I perhaps may be laid in the silent grave. She is now nine years old and when as many more years have rolled away who can tell what changes will have taken place. How many voices will then be silent that are now light and joyous, and feet that are now gamboling o'er the green sward will then be quiet and still.
Elvira will have arrived at woman hood and innocent childhood will only left in memory. Memory, that in after years will be precious.
Where then will be your companions that now help beguile the time of recess at School, some departed and others in distant lands. There is cousin Clara, Ida Durst and Alle Durst, and Libbie Lints and Amy Lints and Lilly and Rhoda Cramer and Ida Sheale who are older among the girls. I had almost forgotten Mary and Cora Miller with whom you now spent many happy hours at play.
Also among the lads are Oscar Ogun, Charlie Durst, Simon Lints, Willie Lints, Addison Cramer, Seymore Jackson and Pat Keane all going to school to learn from Selena Sheef the rudiments of knowledge.
All these will soon be men and women, destined to take a more or less active part in coming duties of life. Let us hope they will all be useful and an honor to the society in which their lot may be cast.
Now we play at the sports of children - "poison", at "Bleecher Man's a Coming", "ball" and "heelee over", "thread the needle". Nine year later little feet will still patter and play over the same ground, the same plays and games will be played and we shall be lookers on perhaps.
We hope they will have a new and nicer school house in the coming years, though we think they cannot have happier hours than we have.
We are now in the midst of the strawberry time. They are red and sweet and seem to invite our fingers. Well, they are good. And we have the Sabbath School every Sabbath morn under the management of Willard Young. Well, my paper is out, so now good bye.
Alexis L. Johnson