A letter written on the back of an old ledger in a labored, messy hand, rife with misspellings and poor penmanship. The ink smudges in places, and the author's hand becomes illegible, especially in a few spots that seem to have once been wet.
Dere Catelin,
Sorry we havent written you in so long, sis. Things hav þeen hectic as of late—Fords gone and Elly and me are §tille trying to figoure out what to do. But I had to writ this thing all on my own [A few words have been crossed out in frustration].
Ford’s gone. Ford Hornbranch. Can you beleeve it? I always thot he’d be a constant part of are lives, but hefen, he wandered off for som reasun I hardly understand. Scolar ship, I suppose. He didn’t write.
It’s like losing a brother, but a trewe won. You know what were lice. I loved him, Cait, and I thovt becus o that love he’d never leave. We were his familie, and now that he’s gone [illegible] we’re all alone.
Well, Ellee’s here. I seen her writing in a dieary, which is a new chanje. But I don’t want to bother her to write for me, so sorry for the misspellings. I alredy feel half a man being so daft as I already am. It’s time too, with Ford not around I figure that I best become more of the man in the house. [A half-dozen attempts at the name Ellinor are crossed out] Ellinor Statler’s man.
We’re betrothed, Ellie and I. It"s a strange ſeeling. She’s everything I ever dremt of come true. When i think of it--of her, my hart is all aflutter. But its celebracyon is hard to stomac when so many of the memorys we have feture the all of us, Ford included.
Remember when you last came to visit? And how Ford made supper with us and it was like we wer all familie. (Well, we twa are alredey family, arn’t we?) We were lafſing and singing gayly and oh heavens I misse it. I miss him. If you euer see him when you come down through Bree-town, let us know. My heart is awful sore.
How are things up north? We heer horrid things about Tresslebrigge--I hope you’re saſe.
With love,
Yor brother Hudde Forrester
PS I do not kno when we wille be wed, but when we are, pleese cum down to meete us. I misse you
Dear Caitlin,
Sorry we haven’t written you in so long, Sis. Things have been hectic as of late; Ford’s gone and Ellie and me are still trying to figure out what to do. But I had to write this thing all on my own [A few words have been crossed out in frustration].
Ford’s gone. Ford Hornbranch. Can you believe it? I always thought he’d be a constant part of our lives, but heaven, he’s wandered off for some reason I hardly understand. Scholarship, I suppose. He didn’t write.
It’s like losing a brother, but a true one. You know what we’re like. I loved him, Cait, and I thought because of that love he’d never leave. We were his family, and now that he’s gone [illegible] we’re all alone.
Well, Ellie’s here. I seen her writing in a diary, which is a new change. But I don’t want to bother her to write for me, so sorry for the misspellings. I already feel half a man being so daft as I already am. It’s time to; with Ford not around I figure that I best become more of the man in the house. Ellinor Statler’s man.
We’re betrothed, Ellie and I. It’s a strange feeling. She’s everything I ever dreamt of come true. When i think of it--of her, my heart is all aflutter. But its celebration is hard to stomach when so many of the memories we have feature the all of us, Ford included.
Remember when you last came to visit? And how Ford made dinner with us and it was like we were all family. (Well, we two are already family, aren’t we?) We were laughing and singing gaily and oh heavens I miss it. I miss him. If you ever see him when you come down through Bree-town, let us know. My heart is awful sore.
How are things up north? We hear horrid things about Trestlebridge--I hope you’re safe.
With love,
Your brother Hudd Forester
P.S. I do not know when we will be wed, but when we are, please come down to meet us. I miss you.