This letter was addressed to Miss Edith King Peck, Norfolk, Connecticut, dated Sept, 25, 1891. Stationary of Yale University.

Sep. 25, 1891

My dear Edith:

I want to "christen" my entrance into the whirlpool of life in this town by writing my very first letter to you. You can easily see that it will be a huge honor to be able to say (about 1920) that "the emininent and most worshipped Hon. Judge Swain wrote me his first college letter-"

I think it is beastly to have to be famous anyway: but I've got to be - everybody says so, so it must be (?)

We arrived here with the usual lack of excitement - so far as I remember, not even a baby squalled or an old woman lost her ticket: and had the first of these events occurred, I know I could not forget it.

Once only I awoke from my doze at some town where a young man on the platform flirted so violently with Minnie that she drew the curtain - if not "the line."

Strange to say our baggage all came the same evening - and we wade about knee deep in brushes, clothes, dishes, lunch and nameless articles.

I presume you can imagine how it all seems in New Haven. They say this years inflow of college boys is the largest on record. Streets are full of young men in light pants, eye glasses and long pipes.

The streets are also full of young girls in very gay colors, (both as to clothers and faces), and they are always looking out for an invitation to join in a glass of beer. - It was ever thus at least so far back as I can remember.

The opera houses are running pretty freely, and things are gradually getting into shape for the Winter gaiety.

Benjamin Cobbstill casts his eye on all passers, with regard to gents neckwear.

Rob was waiting at the house, fearful lest I was not coming. I wish I could tell you his latest history - you would laugh. Just now he rejoices in an increase of salary.

As for me - well I have commenced. The recitation rooms are up two flights in City Hall. Everything is nice, and so far professors are good.natured souls - in fact I quite love old Judge Loomis already, who is one of the lecturers.

You should see the enormous pile of books I have - found in full - "legal calf" - costing the hair-raising sum of about $ 30 so far. And this is but a commencement: I guess I shall prove to be an expensive toy. There are, so far, 62 in my class - generally older than I - one is slightly grey, wears an embroidered vest, a diamond stud and long moustache. I know I shall like my studies first rate.

I am very anxious you shall get this letter before Sunday, so you can know I do not forget you a single hour: and besides I am afraid you will be lonesome this Sunday, as Mr. Smith is away, and your brothers may forget you in the evening.

I wish - my dear, that I could be with you - for the happiest evenings of my life have been spent in your little house - and I do not know as I shall ever be so contented any where else in this life. I often used to vex myself by trying to get in four nights a week and yet not come oftener than every other evening - an impossible task - for then I was foolish, and thought that it was I who received all the pleasure, and feared I would bother you. I did better, and saw wiser at the last, and it is my greatest pleasure that I have been able to help you a little. I cannot feel that I was a "good boy" either - as you often say - because it is small credit to one to do what they want to do. Is it?

I am anxious about you - and I do wish you would not work yourself to death - you own something to yourself.

God does not ask you to treat others better than yourself: yet there would be a "big row" if you were so careless of others as you are sometimes of Edith K. Peck.

Please try and not be too cast down, and I hope and pray that you may not have to live in West Norfolk, buried alive all Winter.

Try to be brave - don't ever think you are utterly alone, or that you are shut away from the world in your misery. As far as it is possible for any one else to appreciate what a dreadful burden you have to bear, I do: I never forget it, or fancy that you have: and as long as I live you have some one who always thinks far more of you than self

So I cannot help repeating, do be careful: you know as well as I do what some of your troubles mean unless you take more than ordinary care: and if you were gone - dear - it would simply turn the balance with me, and a certainty of long & prosperous life would be no pleasure: for I could never bear to live. Time and again this fear has arisen and each time I have tried to reason that I could remember you and live on: but I can't make it seem so at all.

Your carnation is lovely and all the family say it is the prettiest they ever saw.

Minnie says she is going to have a hot bed of English violets this Winter: if so I will steal some surely, and send you. Now I can only get city water, I am thirsty as ever; which is a ?.

Please write when you are not too tired.

Very aff.,

John

Letter transcribed by Vergie Barber DeAntonio June 30, 2000

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