Letters and Manuscripts — Volume 3 (1876 - 1882)

Lt 8, 1878

White, W. C.

Oakland, California

February 13, 1878

Previously unpublished.

Dear Willie:

I was much pained to learn that Charlie Chittenden had written to Father in regard to the two thousand dollars. Father told him he had not the slightest recollection of what was done with the money. I know he had it, but where he applied it I do not know, neither does he; but of course you are not responsible for this money. The office here has been terribly cramped. Money could not be obtained. We have had to hire money. The office let Charlie have five hundred, and he had to wait for the remainder, for it could not be had. Edson has tried his uttermost to get means by obtaining a loan on the church, but every effort was useless. Father has been compelled to mortgage the Morrison house and then could obtain only three thousand on the place. Brother Church drew out fifteen hundred, and we have had to have some means. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 1

But, Willie, we had no idea that Charlie would write to you. We are so much out of means we thought we had, and the call comes for it in a poor time. Edson was provoked enough with Charlie for writing to you as he did. He does not let Father know anything about it. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 2

Father is decidedly improving. We hope for the best in his case. He is sustained in every effort he makes to the point of health. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 3

While you are struggling along for means, we are doing the same here. I had felt anxious to be at Battle Creek to bear my testimony there, but I thought perhaps it would not be advisable for Father to be there. But he has settled that matter. He says, “Where my wife goes, I shall go. If she goes East, I shall go. If she stays in California, I shall stay.” I could endure all the taxation of camp meeting, but I cannot feel that I can endure to have the care of my husband, even improved as he now is. No Sister Ings to help me, or Mary Clough, or Sister Hall. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 4

I am praying much to know my duty. The same difficulty will exist here, and worse in some respects. If I travel with him, it will be among strangers. If he has a poor night’s rest, or if there is any difficulty, then he is down and appears as though the sentence of death was upon him: the bed was not right, the food was not right. Do not think that Father complains. He is very patient; but still he tries to hunt up a cause for all his ills. He is, and has been, sleeping splendidly ever since he has been here this time. He has no belching up of wind, and he holds his flesh. He is remarkably cheerful and happy. But should care come upon him, he will become nervous and the blood rushes to his head. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 5

What think you? Should we not remain here the coming summer and I not attend the camp meetings at all? Is not this best? Father knows he needs me, and he takes all I say to him in line of improvement kindly. I think he dare not trust himself. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 6

When warm weather comes I can write much of my time. This may be my duty. We have a pleasant place of retreat. The most splendid chance to write is the summer season. I want to make right decisions. Just as I decide, it will be. I see much to do, but God has one thing for us to do at a time, and He is never in a hurry. May God bless you, my dear children. I am of good courage, so do not think I am down. Gratitude to God is bubbling up in my heart constantly for His merciful kindness to us. Let us praise God at all times. 3LtMs, Lt 8, 1878, par. 7

Mother.