[Letter from Elizabeth Upshur Teackle to her sister, Ann Upshur Eyre, December 12, 1813]

Princess Anne Dec 12^th, 1813

My dearest sister

Your letter and supplement arriv’d this morning, and although Mr Post was so rude as to run up against my pot-metal pate and make me forget, in the delight of reading some of his cargo of verbosities, that I had any of them to answer; and for all this post has posted off long ago, I cannot forbear scribbling a little to you tonight. Now all my work is done, my scraps picked up and bundled away in my raggery and Elizabeth gone to bed. Sweet Tranquility! Ooh, delightful solitude, thought-breathing silence! How seldom are ye my well behaved companions, at my beck [to] assist me dear ones! There’s not a murmur and stir----oh I forgot! Now, how sorry I am I can’t bring in leaves! There’s not a tree in the room! Not so much as a sprig of geranium. Nothing at all, but one poor little starved hyacinth, of the kind, that the murmur cou’d stir, except myself, and I mortally hate murmurs in doors; so they cou’d move me; but I won’t do to come in to the apostrophe¹ in this place, and stirs---stirs----let me think—oh! Now I have it, not a murmur stirs the ashes! Yes, here’s plenty of ashes just under my toes in the fireplace; and very little fire, so that a breeze or a murmur might stir them very easily.

Not a murmur stirs the ashes, nor blow thro’ walls. Therefore, be not alarm’d. Do not fly sweet my companions! Peaceful inmates! This fine apostrophe puts me in mind of a heroic poem I wrote yesterday on Virginia cloth² # Betsy Dennis asked me the other day why I had given up writing poetry. I told her for want of subjects; for I had no ideas for any thing higher than picking wheat, weighing hogs, and Virginia cloth. Why, says she, I think you might write a dashing heroic on the last subject and so, I went to work Sunday morn, and forthwith spun the heroic. I assure you it is very good stuff, being of this bay fustian³, and wou’d do for a mad man’s jacket remarkably well, for it is strong of folly---particolour’d with various thoughts and altogether, interwoven with inconsistencies, so much for my poem. If you’ll buy my cloth, here’s a sample.

“The stripes awry, cross knotted and “cross-koppled”—good—excellent! A poem on a pig is nothing to it. Though for the matter of that, I had two days ago 19 of as capital hogs (which were weightier subjects you’ll allow) as any woman need to write on or to---or upon---nothing but spare ribs for dinner ever since; which I am in the humor to spare after this date, or grow spare upon them. I am sick of sausage meat

#This is a young lady much in the Ton here. She is in every body’s mouth, [text wraps to next page image] indeed so much stir does she make, almost upon every body's back. She is one people worship as some heathens do the devil, not for love, so much as willy nilly.

and tales of pigs. “What will you please to have for dinner Ma’am” says Nancy. “Here’s a couple of nice spare ribs.” “Very well Nancy. Two spare ribs and a potatoe—that’ll do.” “Maybe you’d like a pretty little tail bone with some turnups. “No, No, if you’ll give me the bone without the tail, for tail bone, is a tale, not bone, for my eating. “What have you done with your stew’d peaches?” (the only thing like a preserve I have in the world). “Why Nancy, I’ve supp’d up all the syrup and thank God I have no farther use for them.” “Why Ma’am, I’m sure they’re mighty good for a dessert prune a bit o’ nice hot johnny kin.” So this is the way I live now I’m alone. Sometimes I almost forget to give out my dinner at all. Poor Elizabeth is in great dread of starving. “What Ma, nothing but spare ribs for dinner?” I doubt if I shou’d get her to go with me to your house even if she thought there was a spare rib in your family, and from your letter one might be led to fear you had two sets of them in your own proper person. I am glad that pleasure has, to you, so desirable an effect on you. For my part I shou’d certainly never laugh again if I thought it was to make me thinner. What is the reason I never meet with your Wing fields when I go down? I believe you order it so for very selfishness. Eliza Teackle has

written to you, she informed me and I rather think you'll get the letter by the next mail. They were very well. Do you think you will accomplish your wish of going with us in the spring to P-a? It wou'd add greatly to my pleasure you well know. Beside we talk of lengthening our trip to Balstown. This is not without a plan for additional pleasure. I go, or rather accede to going merely with a hope that by drinking I may finally obtain so much flesh and health as is necessary to my comfort. That trip of ours to York was of infinite service to me, for I have been gradually getting into better health ever since, and thank God. Am now possess'd of as much strength as I have had to boast for many years. No Hercules or Thalestris yet, I have had, too, better'd points of late than usual. I am greatly in hopes our affairs are mending, and Mr. T. seems to have turn'd his thoughts more to making money here than he has done for some time past. I love Somerset, with good cause, my friends have rather increased in their kindness than fallen off and I shou'd be truly ungrateful not to love them, and the place where I have been so well treated.

I shall be with you as son as possible after Christmas. I have been bother'd and playing about getting my negroes cloth woven, which must be done before I go. Feeling

my health and spirits better, I have some spirit to feel as is natural to me, and I really want to go on a visit to you, because I hope I shall be able to enjoy myself with my friends. When I was with you last, I was sick in mind and body, and none of you knew how many pangs I felt when everyone else was asleep and comfortable.

As to that ridiculous story and my foolish letter (and I thought it was neither foolish nor ill-natured when I wrote it) your letter is sufficient to settle the business, and I hope Caleb will not make any fuss about it with any of the gentlemen in question. I am sure now I think of it, coolly, that C . intended no harm and I rather think the thing was exaggerated to Mr Wilson. Caleb never could have expected that you repeated it, in a large company and it don’t tell well. It arose on the side from mistaken zeal in the gentleman who inform’d Mr W. of it. and anyone’s words by being emphasized in a certain way may be perverted in the meaning. With sincere love to Mr Eyre and my other brother and sister, and a kiss for Virginia’s little white pegs. I am your sister with the warmest fraternal affection

E.U.T.

I forgot to say a word about green dye. I can get you Mrs. Murray’s receipt, if you will. but assure you it is very

expensive and troublesome, as you’ll have to send to foreign ports for the grievances in the first place. Lastly, I can tell you a very simple method which has been tried in my family for dying green. Viz. Put 1 lb. of yarn to one oz. indigo soaked in sufficient of animal fluid⁴ to cover the yarn. Boil your yarn and dye an half hour every day for 9 days, which will make it a good deep blue. The yarn shou’d remain in the dye all the time—scour as for blue dye. Then get hickory bark, and boil it in enough water to cover your yarn well: set it with allum so as for the yellow dye to be rough to the tongue. Put in your blue yarn after it has been well dyed and boil it 1 hour. This is a beautiful deep green. For pale green, just half an ounce of indigo only and 1 lb of yarn, (tried). This will stand fast with all the scouring in the world.
I enclose you a little green cotton, just tried for experiment by myself. I took no pains with it at all. It looks clouded because the blue was clouded at first. But for yarn, this receipt will make it a thousand times handsomer, as yarn or wool takes all kind of dyes better than cotton.

P.S. if you want your green to have a yellow cast, add more of the bark and boil it longer in the yellow dye.

I have got a loom large enough to weave 6/4 sheeting set up in my kitchen, warping bars and all. I shall have a [pul]ley and gears made 6/4 wide on purpose for sheets and if you ever want any weaving done, madam, of that width, I hope in the course of 6 months to be able and willing to have it done for you. We are all in the manufacturing mania here; but for my part I wish there was no necessity for it. Peace! Peace! Peace and plenty say I, and down with the looms!⁵ Then there is such a coil about sugar and coffee! And even down to butter, it can not be bought in B under 3/4 lbs by the firkin. We have too, another embargo against the coasting trade; however our state has re-elected governor Winder, and a federal council of course. We have a great fuss about a bank to be established in P.A. The petition is once more before the legislature. Tomorrow I shall hear how it goes on from Mr. T who is now in Annapolis. It wou’d be a great thing to those who hold property in this place and its vicinity.

I have just returned from Cousin Nelly’s. She and the family are pretty well, and so industrious that it is impossible to live near them and remain lazy. I told cousin N what you said of her in your letter. The old lady deserves the praise you have bestowed on her: for I think, talking her the year round, she is as useful a woman

as any in the world. For my part, I have lost all hope of ever arriving at the climax of glory as a housewife. I learn every day nothing but my own ignorance and incapacity. Everyone seems to know more than I do. As to my poetry and intellectual accomplishments they all go for now grit. And I am truly sorry that I do not live in the age of Aspasia⁶, whose wisdom cover’d a multitude of faults. I must be a housewife, There is no help for it. For to live in any place dead to fame, is to undergo a living death. So then if it were the fashion for ladies to ride pony and all; to shoot out of long bows for a hare, I wou’d be doing too. I will not be a cypher anywhere.

Your message to Major C comes in good time, as I shall spend my Christmas as amongst the gentles of that neighborhood. How ever I must be here on St. John’s Day to hear an oration to be spoken by the Major. And then I shall take the rounds. I have paid but one visit out of town since I saw you. I don’t love to ride you know, and a very little thing will prevent one from doing a thing that we love very little to do.

I am glad to hear that Ann is to stay with you ‘till her house is inhabitable. Her comfort is an interest near to my heart. I think I never wished to see any little thing

more than I do to see Virginia. God bless the little soul and her pegs.

With sincere love to Mr. Eyre and all of you my dear relations and friends

I am your sister
E.U.T.

P Anne M^d
Dec 20^th

Free L D Teackle
PM

John Eyre Esquire
Mail. Northampton Court House Virginia