LIVY CLEMENS

Quarry Farm Diary

June 28th Quarry Farm—Elmira N.Y.

On June 19th we arrived in Elmira, we went directly to Mothers spending a little more than a week with her. The six grand children had a delightful time together, and we elders all had a good visit. Yesterday morning we left Mothers and two loads of us drove up here, Charley bringing Ida, little Ida, Julia, Mr Clemens and me. The other load being Susy, Clara, Jervis, Elize (the nurse) and Jean. The load of children reached the farm first. At once after the second arrival the children all went out to see a new donkey that had been purchased in Kansas and sent to the farm for them. Jean’s first exclamation was “dear old fellow” as she advanced toward the “creature” with a little imbarassed air. The children all had a ride on the donken then Charley and Ida started down the hill with their little flock—and we began to get ourselves settled for our Summer’s stay here. Susy said “how good Aunt Sue is to let us come here and stay all Summer.” I most heartily echo that sentiment. The great interest with the children during these two days since we came has been the donkey. She seems a docile beast, the children have caught her in the field, bridled her and mounted her alone, but when they would ride their father went with them. We hope the donkey has no bad tricks that will in any way frighten or inconvenience the children. They have named her Patience Cadichon, pronouncing it, Kaditchin.

This morning Theodore, Sue, Susy and I went down to church, it was Anniversary Sunday, there was a very large number baptised, first infants, later in the service young people, and older people all excepting the infants professed their faith. It was an exceedingly interesting and touching service.

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July 2nd

Jean has commenced now regularly her lessons every day, that is learning to read. Every morning she comes into the dining room as we are about through breakfast, and says “I don’t want a German lesson this morning, need I?” I say “oh yes”—we go into the bay window, sit on the sofa in the beloved “Farm” parlor and have a lesson, the plan is to have a half hour lesson but Jean is so interested after she has put in her one protest, that she always desires a longer lesson than the appointed time. Today Jean achieved a moral victory over herself. The older children had to go to the dentist I went with them—When Jean knew we were all to go she desired very much to go too, but when she was told she could not she gave it up very uncomplainingly. As we were seated in the carriage she came running and saying “I ’ant (want) to kiss you goo’ bye Mamma”—she was lifted up for the kiss and she kept saying “goo’ bye Mamma”—her little lips trembling, she did not like to be left behind, but she did not allow the tears to come. I hated to leave the dear little face so but I was compelled to.

Susy is reading aloud to me Schillers “Yungfrau von Orleans”—she reads it very well and it is delightful to read it with her. Tonight I was reading to Susy and Clara from a book “Life and her Children” a very interesting book on the lower forms of Animal Life. I came to something about Carbonic Acid—and as we spoke a little about it Clara said, I always like to talk aloud to myself when I am alone in the woods, because I like to give the trees Carbonic Acid. The blessed child it was so sweetly and innocently said.

July 12th

[ . . . ] Susy is reading Scott’s “Betrothal,” tonight she said to me Scott has a cool way of writing—even when the event is exciting he writes of it coolly. Today as we were reading in the Bible together I took Clara’s Bible from her to look at something and a poor uneven little piece of paper fell out, written closely on both sides, I saw at a glance that it was of interest to me, that some of the childs thoughts were on it, she picked it up and evidently did not want it seen—but I insisted until she gave it to me—Susy saying too “Why Clara it is real sweet I saw it in your Bible the other day.” I read it and later when Clara steped out of the room Susy said “that little piece of paper made me know Clara better than I ever did before” This is what was on the paper—exactly except that I can not copy the dear little irregularities of the childish hand.

Clara with her calf Jumbo, 1884.

“Be good to Susy, be not rude, overbearing, cross or pick her up, Be considerate of Eliza (the nurse), and put yourself in her place. Be as sweet and generous to Jean as Susy is and even more so, and be not selfish with the donkey but think how much you like to ride her and Jean enjoys it just about as much. Be sweet to Mamma and when you see that she is tired you ought to ask her as few questions as you can not to bother her. Be not cross and unmannerly to Julie even if you do think her queer, perhaps she thinks you queer. Be good always”

There were places where she was troubled with the 3rd person form, would at first use the 1st person and then write over it. It is a precious little document and I wish that I could keep it but evidently it is a help to the child she asked for it tonight, I told her I would give it to her tomorrow, but I do hate to have it lost. It has to me a real à Kempis ring about it.

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July 26th

Jean birthday. Soon after a nine o’clock breakfast we made ready Jean’s table of gifts in the parlor—we had it in the parlor instead of the little arbor where we have generally had it because Clara has a sore throat and it did not seem best for her to go to the arbor as it was windy. The dear little five-year-old maiden had a very happy time, with her various little articles. The only article of any value was a heavy silver spoon from Mother, but she had a number of little playthings that interested her. Her father was in New York, he telegraphed her wishing her sixty five returns, where shall we all be at that time. 1950. Jean saw the little birds picking up seeds and worms at all sorts of irregular times and she said to Aunt Sue “doesn’t it hurt the birds to eat between meals.”

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Sept 8th 1885

I began yesterday to show Jean something about insects—we went out and got a grasshopper, but it jumped about so in the glass where we put it that she could not see it very well. I did not want her to kill it, because I cannot get away from the feeling that it must greatly blunt a childs sensitivity to allow it to kill the little creatures. We were able to examine a lady bug after a fashion without hurting it. Last night I got one or two insects that killed themselves in the light of the lamp. Today I was showing her their different parts—she said she had a dead fly up in her room, so she brought it to me. I told her we would find what dead insects we could today and examine them tomorrow.

While we were eating our dinner, Jean came into the dining room, came up to my side and laid down on the table cloth by the side of my plate a handful of dead flies—saying triumphantly, “Mamma I found all those dead creatures in the kitchen” Of course there was nothing to do but praise the dear little midge for her success in finding “dead creatures,” but one would have prefered to have her keep them until one had finished eating. However I put them on a plate and told her to take them into the parlor, She started but at the door met the cat Sour Mash, and as Sour Mash was very anxious to have the contents of the plate, Jean gave her the flies saying “Mamma Sour Mash wants them so much I think she can have them and I can get more.” However she ow[n]ed afterward that she did not know where she could get any more, because she had gotten all there were in the kitchen.

Sept 14th

We start for New York tomorrow the 15th leaving this beloved Quarry Farm. We expect to spend a few days in New York and then on to Hartford.

This afternoon as I lay on the bed feeling rather depressed at the thought of leaving Mother and Sue and the friends here and a little tired from the packing & Susy came to my bed side bringing a little bag that she had filled with articles to amuse Jean on the journey. It was delightful to see the arrangements that she had made—there were paper dolls cut out ready for Jean to make the faces on them, a piece of silk with a needle and pieces of thread for her to sew—a crochet neadle with worsted for her to “heckel,” buttons for her to sew on, a paper book which Susy had made for her, cutting out pictures and pasting them in the book, then writing storries about them—all this and more to amuse Jean on the journey to New York tomorrow. While I lay on the bed mourning she was doing something for the pleasure of some one else, the blessed child. Probably the next time I write in this book will be in Hartford, if we are spared to arrive there safely.