.OTA3.MTQ3OA

This document has not been verified by Special Collections Research Center Staff. Please also consult images of the document.

Charlotte C. H. Virginia, April 14, 1863:

My dear Mrs. Coleman,

I have just learned from a young lady,

a grand daughter of the late Col. Thomas M. Bayly of Accomac, that you were

in Richmond, and I hasten to address you. When I saw the announce

ment of the death of your sweet daughter Sarah Augustine, my first

impulse was to assure you of my cordial sympathy with you

in so great a bereavement, and how much I felt personally on

the subject. Had she lived, and my son also been spared to attain

mature age, they might have ratified that engagement which we

were willing to make for them. Stranger things have happened;

and I confess my heart yearned toward your sweet and beautiful

child. But she is gone:-- and it may be, long before maturity, my boy

may leave us too; and our children may live and love each

other in a brighter sphere.

Will you tell me of her illness? for I know nothing but

what was contained in the short obituary notice. How little did

we dream, as we looked together upon your precious child, playing

in the parlour of your Williamsburg home, and playfully cast

the horoscope of her future, that she would be so soon taken

from us, and that in so short a season all that would remain

of her would be the memory of her lovely form and of those

graces which already reminded me of her to whom she owed

her being! Why such should be taken from the earth, is one

of those mysteries which human perspicacity cannot fathom,

and our only consolation must be that He who gave and He who

hath taken away is one and the same, and that He acted on his own

wise and merciful purposes, which, in his own good time, may be

cleared up, if not in this vale of tears, in a realm into which tears

will never intrude. Sometimes, when my Mary Blair, not yet three

years old, is prattling on my knee, and I see in the depths of her heart

a purity and a sweetness untainted to human eye; and reflect that

in a few swift years, should a kind Providence spare her to us,

that heart now so pure will be vexed with the cares and passions

from which alas! no mortal bosom was ever wholly free, and

that her severest trials will probably take place when her

mother's head and mine are low, I say to myself, would

it not be better that our darling child should be rescued

from those terrible ordeals, and pass in all her sweetness and

innocence from us, and join Him who loved little children

on earth, and who promised the joys of Heaven only to those

who resembled them? And, although, upon full reflection,

this is not the proper spirit which the responsibility of

children should inspire into the minds of parents, yet, when

those dear pledges of affection are taken from us, it affords

the only true balm to the fearful wound inflicted by their

loss.

But in your case affliction has been tempered with

mercy. The same Providence, which has taken your daughter

to a better world, has given you a son, who will live, I hope, under

the wise guidance of his parents, to be to you a comfort and

a staff in future years, and an ornament and a

blessing to his country. That he may flourish and prosper,

and add a new and most honorable illustration to his mother's

maiden name is my cordial wish.

Present me kindly to Dr. Coleman, and believe me, my dear

madam, to be deeply interested in all that affects your

happiness and welfare. Should your mother and sisters be

near you, present my regards to them. I have heard that two of

your brothers have been wounded in battle; but the details

have not reached me. Let me hear from you soon, and tell

me about your home and Williamsburg friends, their losses, etc. and

whether the College paintings are safe.

My wife joins with me in the spirit of this letter, and wishes

to be kindly remembered to you.

With the warmest regard and esteem, I am, as of old,

most truly your friend & servant,

Hugh B. Grigsby

Mrs. Cynthia B. T. Coleman

Richmond

 

I enclose a notice of Galt the sculptor, which

I wrote for the Richmond Enquirer.

P. S. Our poor College!